"I really don't know anything about magic," he admits, watching his husband
stroke himself as he props himself up on his elbows. It's quite the
intoxicating sight. Francis really is something else.
He quite likes this form. The face, the body. It hasn't changed much in a long time and he's grown attached. Maybe that's why it hasn't changed much. Hm. Food for thought.
Another moment and Francis comes back in, laying over Ethan and nosing into his neck. He kisses there and works his way down. All the way back down. Tracing lines and scraping his teeth over nipple and rib and hip.
Until he gets back down to Ethan's cock to swallow down.
And that's a very, very good tongue he's got. Ethan is hard as a rock again by the time Francis works his way back down, a moan ripped from him when Francis swallows him down.
"Oh fuck," he breathes, gently gripping his hair, hips tipping up a smidge. "Gid you're good-"
There comes a pleased purr in response, throat vibrating as he takes him to the root and comes back.
He really, really does know what he's doing. And he will take Ethan right the the razor's edge with his tongue and throat, fingers slick with spit playing at his hole. Make absolutely sure that he's ready whilst creating maximum bliss in the process.
"Thank you, fuck, thank you," he gasps, groping for him, wanting to touch
him, wrap his arms around him, feel him. He could love you so easily
- he's always been a hopeless romantic, forming attachments so quickly, so
deeply.
"It feels like it," he says, legs wrapping around his waist and easing him deeper. It feels incredible, he hasn't done this in years and it feels like perfection. Not hard, not too soft...vanilla and sweet.
Just incredible. The bed is warm, their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, their minds rosy with drink and beautiful words.
Forget fucking, he wants to make love. Find what makes Ethan tick and unravel him like a silk ribbon. Strike him just right and bring them both off. Fill him full, pheromones so very thick in the air. In his come- all he can take tight to the brim. Bliss in every direction, inside and out.
That’s all he wants, Francis to make love to him. It’s been so long since he connected so deeply, since it felt like this. Eons, it seems, though in comparison to Francis it may seem paltry.
Still, it feels wonderful, that cock inside of him, completing the puzzle that had been missing its piece. The sound of skin slapping skin, of Francis’ breathy gasps, of his own whimpers and moans - it’s what he’s craves, what he wanted from this, but dared not hope.
Here Francis is, giving him blessed hope and dreams.
“I’m close,” he groans, hands dropping to grip Francis’ ass to bring him deeper, a little harder. He’s hitting Ethan just right, and it’s short circuiting the vampires brain.
Francis smiles, rolling his hips deep again. Striking him just right.
It's been a while for him, too, and even longer since he felt connection in the act. Not just baseless sex for sex's sake.
He's close as well, simmering in Ethan's scent. The tremble in his voice. The need and want. The arch of his back and the way his fingers dig into the dragon's skin just right.
"Come for me," soft in his ear. There's magic all around them. Old ancient stuff that runs through their very cores, connecting them and the planet and everyone and everything else in wide, golden hoops.
It sends Francis off the edge, just behind him, moaning low and deep as he shivers. He fills Ethan to the brim, a coat of seed and magic inside of him that stretches and reverberates the aftershock, extending the pleasure considerably.
In a way not dissimilar to the venom in Ethan's own teeth and seed.
"And I'm yours," as he pants, head swimming. Coming nice and close up against him. Sticky belly to sticky. Swollen belly.
Yes, Francis thinks, he will do nicely. Very, very nicely.
He can't pull out for a moment, enjoying the sensation too much. But when he does it is slow and gentle to lay and then gather Ethan up into his arms. He's a little emotional, actually.
Sleep well, beautiful. It's nearly dawn. Sleep through the day. Francis stays close by, knowing this it's week is vital to bond. He reads and works in bed, only getting up if he really needs to.
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"I really don't know anything about magic," he admits, watching his husband stroke himself as he props himself up on his elbows. It's quite the intoxicating sight. Francis really is something else.
"I just know I want you to make love to me."
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"With wild abandon"
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At least the body Francis has is pretty normal for a human. No tentacles, no porn star cock, just...normal. He's sexy. He's gorgeous.
One wonders what he would see if he were able to be the way he wanted to be, as opposed to what his lovers see.
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He quite likes this form. The face, the body. It hasn't changed much in a long time and he's grown attached. Maybe that's why it hasn't changed much. Hm. Food for thought.
Another moment and Francis comes back in, laying over Ethan and nosing into his neck. He kisses there and works his way down. All the way back down. Tracing lines and scraping his teeth over nipple and rib and hip.
Until he gets back down to Ethan's cock to swallow down.
He's going to edge you again.
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And that's a very, very good tongue he's got. Ethan is hard as a rock again by the time Francis works his way back down, a moan ripped from him when Francis swallows him down.
"Oh fuck," he breathes, gently gripping his hair, hips tipping up a smidge. "Gid you're good-"
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He really, really does know what he's doing. And he will take Ethan right the the razor's edge with his tongue and throat, fingers slick with spit playing at his hole. Make absolutely sure that he's ready whilst creating maximum bliss in the process.
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"Francis, Francis please -- I need you, I can't take it-"
God just fuck him already-
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"I've got you, beautiful."
Give him a moment to come back down before grabbing Ethan up and sinking in. A perfect fit.
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"Thank you, fuck, thank you," he gasps, groping for him, wanting to touch him, wrap his arms around him, feel him. He could love you so easily - he's always been a hopeless romantic, forming attachments so quickly, so deeply.
"You feel so perfect."
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Soft and sweet as they get acquainted. Enjoying every second it as that rhythm intensifies.
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"You feel perfect."
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Just incredible. The bed is warm, their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, their minds rosy with drink and beautiful words.
Forget fucking, he wants to make love. Find what makes Ethan tick and unravel him like a silk ribbon. Strike him just right and bring them both off. Fill him full, pheromones so very thick in the air. In his come- all he can take tight to the brim. Bliss in every direction, inside and out.
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That’s all he wants, Francis to make love to him. It’s been so long since he connected so deeply, since it felt like this. Eons, it seems, though in comparison to Francis it may seem paltry.
Still, it feels wonderful, that cock inside of him, completing the puzzle that had been missing its piece. The sound of skin slapping skin, of Francis’ breathy gasps, of his own whimpers and moans - it’s what he’s craves, what he wanted from this, but dared not hope.
Here Francis is, giving him blessed hope and dreams.
“I’m close,” he groans, hands dropping to grip Francis’ ass to bring him deeper, a little harder. He’s hitting Ethan just right, and it’s short circuiting the vampires brain.
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“Course I do,” he whines. Are you kidding.
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It's been a while for him, too, and even longer since he felt connection in the act. Not just baseless sex for sex's sake.
He's close as well, simmering in Ethan's scent. The tremble in his voice. The need and want. The arch of his back and the way his fingers dig into the dragon's skin just right.
"Come for me," soft in his ear. There's magic all around them. Old
ancient stuff that runs through their very cores, connecting them and the planet and everyone and everything else in wide, golden hoops.
"You're mine. I vow."
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He shivers, digging his fingers into that gorgeous ass as he arches up. Ethan is gonna come so hard he sees stars, shaking in the wake of it.
“Yours,” he gasps, clutching at Francis. “I’m yours.”
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In a way not dissimilar to the venom in Ethan's own teeth and seed.
"And I'm yours," as he pants, head swimming. Coming nice and close up against him. Sticky belly to sticky. Swollen belly.
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Goddamn. He’s never come that hard and intense and long in his entire fucking life, and he is a little shook.
Ethan weakly smooths a hand down his back, eyes closed, his belly swollen a little between them. He hasn’t really noticed, doesn’t really care.
But oh, he makes a pretty sight swollen like this, buried in Francis’ bed.
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Yes, Francis thinks, he will do nicely. Very, very nicely.
He can't pull out for a moment, enjoying the sensation too much. But when he does it is slow and gentle to lay and then gather Ethan up into his arms. He's a little emotional, actually.
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So is he, honestly. Francis feels so good wrapped around him, inside of him.
Ethan wraps his arms around his husband and holds him close, gently, like the treasure he is.
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"Yeah," he breathes, spent, sticky, swollen, a hand on Francis and smoothing over his skin. "Yeah, I think we are."
God, it sure looks that way, anyway. And he is tired after all that - the talk, the drink, the sex. He's exhausted and he's gonna pass the fuck out.
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There when Ethan wakes up.
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He'll wake up warm and cozy, buried in all those sheets and blankets, though he'll jolt initially when he realizes he isn't home. The fuck--
Oh. Right. He...got married, and he got laid.
Slowly, carefully, he'll peek out from under his nest, eyes falling to rest on his new husband.
Holy shit.
"Um. Good morning." He thinks. The fuck time is it, anywhere.
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