[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.]
[ you know what— if he comes, he’ll work them both up again. there was no lie in the fact that he was going to break his bonded tonight. eren gives an insistent gnarl, fuck, that lovely ring of pressure that grips the base of his cock as mikleo drives right down on him.
fantastic, the burn and the friction created by such heated action was fantastic. he can feel stings drag across scales that prickle, lift enough to flare. as if leaving wings behind, his shoulder blades motion under his onyx and eventide coloring, something(s) protruding just a bit more from the line of his spine down to his lumbar. eren’s mouth lugs into mikleo’s shoulder, poking him with teeth but leaving the biting be (else he’d truly rip a chunk of him off). it felt like his body was twisting from the inside, and he accepts it because he has to. from every vertebrae sprouts a milder version of dorsal spikes. it should be uncomfortable and a tad bloody as he writhes to grab at the other’s torso and thighs with accentuated vigor, to keep himself distracted, his ass most of all to pin him deeper as he held his breath and let the extensions take their stations.
the cry of his name is still ringing there like drum rolls, and the heat does not subside after. breathless, certainly, he is for a moment, but more than that was the extra spark it gave to his impatient start to keep going, until their bodies begged to stop. he would not let them finish round one so soon anyway— and once his hands find mikleo’s bottom, he spreads them, lifting the seraph up from what could seem like the very top of his cock, before, surprisingly, bringing him down again slowly, the fine tune of a moan playing his throat and bloody lips like an instrument. again, he’d do it, preliminaries for when the shaking body settling on him could move on his own. ]
Like that, [ he sighs out, taking handfuls of the seraph’s pleasurable curves from both sides of him, and arching his hips to extend the deepness. ] fuck me like that.
[Mikleo catches the feeling of raised scales and what must be something else as he's adjusting, rubbing his hands all over for divine purchase. Eren feels incredible and it only gets better when he's grabbed. Mikleo moans thickly, drowns it in a whimper as he's spread and lifted.
If Eren wanted him to move, he could have just said that-- but a not-insignificant part of him enjoys being thrown around, rather likes the unapologetic claws against his soft skin. He shouts Eren's name in a voice that has already begun to grow hoarse but he doesn't mind-- if anything, the desperation just makes it better.
Slowly, gods, Eren lifting him like this is beautiful torture. His cries are drawn out, pulled from somewhere near his soul. All he can manage is a stammered affirmative as he clutches at Eren's horns with renewed enthusiasm.]
Anything-- anything you want.
[He takes over if Eren lets him, hips turning into the sweet heat of Eren's length as Mikleo rides him slow and hard. When the brunet is buried deep, he grinds down onto him even more and praises the vowels of Eren's name. This is it-- the sweet music, the transcendence of soul to soul-- the most timeless of bonding rituals.]
[ oh how much he’d allow it, taking the reigns from eren alone is sufficient enough to throw his head back, a groan too full and even crude for a place unguarded by the walls of a room. the most of eren’s help comes from the way he arches to meet mikleo’s slides, hands on his hips and at most offering momentum to boost his bounces— he won’t get exhausted too quickly, that way, and is given all the freedom we wanted to do what he well intended. his bonded would simply follow along, and adapt his aid to his shifts.
there is something tremendously different when eren has less control. it messes with his senses and levels his pleasure. perhaps it was not specifically the lack of control— it was seeing, feeling mikleo do what he wanted as well.
it was a duet, a chorus, the way eren forgets his words and only gives up the melody of sound, of emotion at a primal and easy language to decipher. hoarse moans, souls bound up tightly together. one was the other, for seconds, and every millisecond of the rise and fall of ecstacy’s build up was all the more savage.
eren’s hands go from mikleo’s hips to his ass eventually, the curves filling his palm and bouncing with the cadence his bonded choses. if it’s wet between them, its wetter when eren dribbles precum into him, unseen with their movement but felt searingly with every tight-ringed pump around his cock. eren almost hurled himself back, flattening his back against the ground and allowing their bodies to accustom naturally.
god fuck shit ride him to hell and back. ]
What you want—! [ he wants that, too. it drives him up walls and make him feel like he’s going to come (when it just adds to a climax yet to come, and a grand one). ]
[Eren is glorious. The needy noises, the fierce and desperate way he claws at Mikleo, the sweetness in his yielding as the seraph takes over. He very much likes that, likes feeling he's in control. He sets the pace at something just slow enough to savor every goddamn inch Eren gives him, and Mikleo takes him deep until he can feel scales against the apex of his thighs.
Every movement draws a cry of Eren's name, withering and rough. He bites back something low and unabashedly primal as he feels Eren's excitement, desiring much more of that. Harder, harder, he wants to ride Eren until he can't remember where he ends and Eren begins.
Mikleo's grip on Eren's horns is unmoving. His lavender eyes blaze red as he gazes into Eren's expression, so close they could breathe each other in.]
Eren--
[The seraph bites back a whimper. He's trembling from head to toe but he seizes the bliss instead of denying it, clenching so tight he sees stars. Mikleo arches into the brunet and shrieks his coming to the goddamn world. He spills but he keeps going, riding Eren relentlessly hard despite the medium pace.
With eyes like red slits, he gives one very simple command.]
Come inside me.
[He has a taste for it and one way or another he will get what he wants.]
[ he loves it, how he loves handing over power, watching choice unravel and seeing mikleo do what he pleased with his pleasure for him, taking what he wants and giving eren what he needs in both a punishing and delightful way (the only punishment here is that he’s being given too many good things). the scream of his bonded as he spills warmth against his belly has eren reaching between them to finalize the ecstasy ridden crest, leaving behind another mark of teeth to his collarbone and an amazing swirl of his to hue to seize the blood that follows.
eren angles to allow his hips to jounce into the seraph at a far quicker pace than before, smacking one after another and escalating his whimpers. whimpers becomes cracks, cracks become a shout that’s detached from anything that could be in their vicinity. it was for them, just for them. mikleo will know, in the way he fills and how his fluid slips down their legs once he shifts now, slowly to savor his climax, out and in.
even if his breathing is hoarse, eren searches for mikleo’s lips— intimacy seeks them, and how lazy it was. lazy, blissful and admiring. ]
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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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fantastic, the burn and the friction created by such heated action was fantastic. he can feel stings drag across scales that prickle, lift enough to flare. as if leaving wings behind, his shoulder blades motion under his onyx and eventide coloring, something(s) protruding just a bit more from the line of his spine down to his lumbar. eren’s mouth lugs into mikleo’s shoulder, poking him with teeth but leaving the biting be (else he’d truly rip a chunk of him off). it felt like his body was twisting from the inside, and he accepts it because he has to. from every vertebrae sprouts a milder version of dorsal spikes. it should be uncomfortable and a tad bloody as he writhes to grab at the other’s torso and thighs with accentuated vigor, to keep himself distracted, his ass most of all to pin him deeper as he held his breath and let the extensions take their stations.
the cry of his name is still ringing there like drum rolls, and the heat does not subside after. breathless, certainly, he is for a moment, but more than that was the extra spark it gave to his impatient start to keep going, until their bodies begged to stop. he would not let them finish round one so soon anyway— and once his hands find mikleo’s bottom, he spreads them, lifting the seraph up from what could seem like the very top of his cock, before, surprisingly, bringing him down again slowly, the fine tune of a moan playing his throat and bloody lips like an instrument. again, he’d do it, preliminaries for when the shaking body settling on him could move on his own. ]
Like that, [ he sighs out, taking handfuls of the seraph’s pleasurable curves from both sides of him, and arching his hips to extend the deepness. ] fuck me like that.
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If Eren wanted him to move, he could have just said that-- but a not-insignificant part of him enjoys being thrown around, rather likes the unapologetic claws against his soft skin. He shouts Eren's name in a voice that has already begun to grow hoarse but he doesn't mind-- if anything, the desperation just makes it better.
Slowly, gods, Eren lifting him like this is beautiful torture. His cries are drawn out, pulled from somewhere near his soul. All he can manage is a stammered affirmative as he clutches at Eren's horns with renewed enthusiasm.]
Anything-- anything you want.
[He takes over if Eren lets him, hips turning into the sweet heat of Eren's length as Mikleo rides him slow and hard. When the brunet is buried deep, he grinds down onto him even more and praises the vowels of Eren's name. This is it-- the sweet music, the transcendence of soul to soul-- the most timeless of bonding rituals.]
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there is something tremendously different when eren has less control. it messes with his senses and levels his pleasure. perhaps it was not specifically the lack of control— it was seeing, feeling mikleo do what he wanted as well.
it was a duet, a chorus, the way eren forgets his words and only gives up the melody of sound, of emotion at a primal and easy language to decipher. hoarse moans, souls bound up tightly together. one was the other, for seconds, and every millisecond of the rise and fall of ecstacy’s build up was all the more savage.
eren’s hands go from mikleo’s hips to his ass eventually, the curves filling his palm and bouncing with the cadence his bonded choses. if it’s wet between them, its wetter when eren dribbles precum into him, unseen with their movement but felt searingly with every tight-ringed pump around his cock. eren almost hurled himself back, flattening his back against the ground and allowing their bodies to accustom naturally.
god fuck shit ride him to hell and back. ]
What you want—! [ he wants that, too. it drives him up walls and make him feel like he’s going to come (when it just adds to a climax yet to come, and a grand one). ]
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Every movement draws a cry of Eren's name, withering and rough. He bites back something low and unabashedly primal as he feels Eren's excitement, desiring much more of that. Harder, harder, he wants to ride Eren until he can't remember where he ends and Eren begins.
Mikleo's grip on Eren's horns is unmoving. His lavender eyes blaze red as he gazes into Eren's expression, so close they could breathe each other in.]
Eren--
[The seraph bites back a whimper. He's trembling from head to toe but he seizes the bliss instead of denying it, clenching so tight he sees stars. Mikleo arches into the brunet and shrieks his coming to the goddamn world. He spills but he keeps going, riding Eren relentlessly hard despite the medium pace.
With eyes like red slits, he gives one very simple command.]
Come inside me.
[He has a taste for it and one way or another he will get what he wants.]
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eren angles to allow his hips to jounce into the seraph at a far quicker pace than before, smacking one after another and escalating his whimpers. whimpers becomes cracks, cracks become a shout that’s detached from anything that could be in their vicinity. it was for them, just for them. mikleo will know, in the way he fills and how his fluid slips down their legs once he shifts now, slowly to savor his climax, out and in.
even if his breathing is hoarse, eren searches for mikleo’s lips— intimacy seeks them, and how lazy it was. lazy, blissful and admiring. ]