Berserk Fic 2 preview
Griffith pauses briefly as he turns into the cellar proper, noting that sword Guts calls ‘the Dragonslayer’ propped up against a bare wall. Griffith glares at the hunk of raw iron, thoughts going back to how eager Guts has been to train with it, rather than spending time with Griffith.
How is he to learn how to function at court with this needlessly large thing taking up his time? It wouldn’t be easy to dispose of now that Guts has given it some form of will, enabling it to cut through spirits as well as flesh, but perhaps-
“Oi, Griffith! C’mere a sec!”
Griffith jolts and turns to scold Guts for his bullheadedness, but his words die in his throat as Guts’ hands grip his lapels, tearing his shirt open as he stumbles forward in a drunken haze, sending the finely crafted wooden buttons clattering to the stones.
“Oh.”
The breathless gasp is all Griffith can utter as Guts buries his face in Griffith’s pecs, his hot breath ghosting over them, stiffening Griffith’s nipples as he nuzzles mindlessly, open mouthed.
Griffith feels Guts’ hands grip his shoulders, pushing them inwards to push his chest out, providing Guts more firm and pillowy muscle and fat to groan against.
Griffith’s eyes grow hazy, the border between the white and blue lessening until the flaming white of his pupils nearly swallows his irises whole.
Guts mouths against a pec, mumbling, “Mmmghh~ Boobs...”
Griffith shudders, feeling liquid gold heat flow like honey down his spine. His dazed grin must match Guts’ drunken smirk in mindlessness, as he runs a hand through short, spiky hair, grazing Guts’ scalp with his nails.
Guts chuffs, fingers digging into Griffith’s biceps as his nose brushes a rosy nipple, causing Griffith to take his plump lower lip between his teeth. This is… preferable, to reprimanding his most trusted blade.
Griffith shudders, murmuring, “Guts…”
Guts pauses, glancing up almost bashfully, lips brushing a perked nipple as Griffith continues scratching his scalp, as though petting a large wolf.
Griffith offers an unconscious pout, staring down at Guts with dilated pupils. “Don’t cling to me like this.”
Guts looks momentarily embarrassed, and almost pulls away.
But Griffith snatches the back of his head before he can complete the disastrous act. “Unless…” Griffith brings Guts’ mouth back to the bud atop his pec. “...you plan to take responsibility this time.”
Guts stares up at him with a confused expression, something warring in his eyes.
Griffith sighs, tugs his hair, and leans back halfheartedly. “Well, if you plan to leave me wanting again, I suppose I can see what Locus—!”
Guts latches onto the nipple with all the ferocity of a man starved for bread, sucking and nipping like a newborn seeking sustenance.
Griffith lets out a quiet cry, clutching the hair and scalp, burying Guts deeper into his chest, closer to his longing heart.
Look guys look aaa aaa
