[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. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.]
no subject
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). ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]