Moth

The door creaked open on its old hinges, the sound breaking through the quiet of the little upstairs room. You stirred, head lifting from where it had rested on your folded arms against the mattress. You had been close to dozing off, drained from the events that had been occurring since dawn, body sinking into exhaustion despite your restless thoughts.

Your heart leapt into your throat. For a quick moment you thought it might've been one of the others checking in, and You scrambled up onto the bed, trying to look like You hadn't been on the floor crying yourself to sleep.

But it wasn't just any of them.

It was him.

Santana stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him with a low thud. The light from the bedside lamp caught on the fresh bandages around his waist, stark white against the olive tone of his skin. He looked worn, pallid, his movements heavy with fatigue. Yet the moment his eyes found you, that exhaustion seemed to ease, if only slightly.

Without hesitation, he crossed the small space, his steps silent, predatory by nature, but his presence was anything but threatening. He lowered himself down to his knees before the bed, his broad frame sinking to meet your gaze.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His eyes held yours, uncertain and searching for something. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low, gravelly, but softer than you had ever heard it.

" Did I... scare you?"

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Your lips parted, but the words caught in your throat. He kept going, the edge of shame tugging at his usually even tone.

" When I... changed. When you saw what I truly am. My face... my body... It is monstrous, I know it... and I know it frightened You."

His gaze dropped for the first time, not meeting yours as if the weight of the admission was too much. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers flexing faintly, the smallest tell of nervousness.

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came at first. Because yes, your heart had leapt into your throat when his features had twisted, when that monstrous side of him had surfaced in battle or in instinct.

But fear had not been the only thing that tangled inside your chest. It had been awe, intensity, something rawer and harder to name.

Santana, though, didn't know that. His eyes bore into yours with startling focus, waiting, heavy with the quiet plea he couldn't voice: tell me you don't hate me for what I am.

Your fingers twitched against your thighs. For a moment, you thought about staying quiet, letting the silence do the speaking for you... but the look in his eyes, that guarded uncertainty.. It was unbearable. You shifted on the mattress, inching closer to the edge of the bed where he knelt.

Your bandaged face brushed close to him as you reached out, cupping his jaw with both hands. His skin was warm beneath your palms, his hair falling loose around his face until you brushed it back, the movement steadied your own trembling hands more than it calmed him.

" Yeah..." You began, soft and gentle. " It did frighten me."

His gaze flickered, the faintest flinch pulling him away, but you didn't let go, thumbs tracing slow arcs along the edges of his cheekbones

" Not because of you. Never because of you. It's just... I didn't know you could even do that. I didn't understand.

Your words came quick now, desperate to undo the hurt you had seen cross his face. You leaned in, forehead touching his, voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

" ... There was more to it than fear."

His eyes narrowed slightly, questioning, but he didn't pull back. The room was so quiet that you could hear the rhythm of your heartbeat.

"...And.. I'd like to see you do it again. The thing with your face."

Santana didn't answer right away, but his eyes sharpened at the request, fixed on you with an intensity that made the air between you unbearable.

Your hands were still warm against his face, steady even when his thoughts were anything but. For a moment he let you hold him like that, and then, he drew back just enough to slip free of the touch.

The loss of contact stung your fingers, but before You could worry, he shifted lower, lowering his head until it rested on your lap. The movement was awkward and hesitant, like he wasn't entirely sure what he was doing, or if he was even allowed to do it, but once he settled, the weight of him there was grounding.

You blinked down at him, startled at first. Slowly you raised one hand and threaded your fingers into his hair, stroking it back from his forehead. His eyes slid half-shut, though the faintest crease lingered between his brows as if he were still turning your words over and over inside.

" You don't have to show me if you don't want to. I won't push." You started softly, fingers combing through his vermillion-gold hair, letting the silence stretch as you choose your next words with care.

" But Santana... there's still so much about you that I don't know. So much I want to see. Not just the parts you think are easy for me to accept."

He shifted faintly at that, his jaw tightening against your knee. You bent forward a little, speaking gently into his ear, voice almost a murmur.

" Earlier outside, When I told you I loved you,"

That got his attention. His eyes opened again, focusing on you.

" I meant it. Every word." Your fingers never stopped moving, stroking his hair with quiet devotion as you spoke.

" It doesn't matter how much of you I've seen, or how much I haven't yet. I don't love you because I only see the pieces that are easy, I love you for all of it, even the parts I don't understand yet."

Your throat tightened, but you pushed the words through anyway, voice trembling but firm.

" So if you're afraid of frightening me don't be. I'd rather see the truth of you than live with a mask. Always."

The room was still again after that. Santana remained quiet, his head still heavy in your lap, but his eyes didn't leave yours. And though his expression remained difficult to read, there was something soft there.

The silence stretched between the two of you, heavy. Your hand lingered in his hair as Santana remained still in your lap. For a while you thought he was simply going to stay like that, unmoving and shutting himself off from the weight of your words.

But then he stirred. Slowly, he sat upright again, his movements deliberate, his gaze fixed away as if he couldn't bear to look you in the eye. His shoulders rose and fell once, a quiet breath drawn in, and then it began.

It didn't come as fast as it did when he had been faced with Kars, this time the change was subtle at first, a faint ripple beneath his skin like a shadow moving under the surface. Then it deepened, the flesh of his body seemed to shrink against his skeleton, clinging unnaturally tight until every hollow, every ridge of bone stood out in harsh relief. The veins along his arms and neck bulged dark and thick beneath the stretched skin.

His mouth split wider at the corners, tearing upward in grotesquely until it reached his cheeks. New rows of teeth pushed through his gums, jagged and glistening, crowding alongside the ones already there. The sound of them forcing their way into place was a low, wet grind, and they curved outwards.

His horns extended as well, not dramatically, but enough that the curve of them sharpened, lengthened, twisting just slightly more back in a way that made them impossible to ignore.

It was monstrous, terrifying, and yet, Your hands never left him. Your chest tightened as you studied him in the dim light, but you didn't recoil, your good eye traced every change, pulse thundering not from dread, but from the sheer intensity of him.

The lamplight caught against his sharpened features, his eyes burning brighter now beneath the shadow of his altered face. Still, he didn't look at you, his head turned away as though bracing himself for the disgust, the fear, the rejection he'd learned to expect.

Your hands rose again, slow but steady, cupping his face just as you had before, thumb brushing lightly across the taut skin of his cheek, the touch tender even against the ridges of vein and bone.

" There you are,"

Your voice didn't tremble. If anything, it carried warmth, a thread of awe woven into the words.

Your lips brushed against his, soft and fleeting, careful between the rows of jagged fangs. It was careful at first, your mouth finding his between the sharp rows of fangs that jutted from his gums. The kiss was clumsy in its placement, awkward because of the sharpness of his teeth, but it was real. Warm.

Santana made a startled sound deep in his throat, more instinctive than conscious, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his head tilted slightly and he kissed you back, the pressure more confident than it was earlier, testing. He shifted on his knees, moving higher so he could meet you more comfortably, his hands moving to the flesh of your thighs, sharp nails kneading through your pants.

And then, he tried something. His mouth parted, the monstrous line of his lips stretching wider, and his tongue slipped past her lips. It curled and pressed against your own, and You jolted slightly at the intrusion, eyebrows drawing together as your hands clenched against his jaw. The sensation was unlike anything you had prepared yourself for. 

Yet... you didn't pull back. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your ears, but you leaned into him instead, determined not to let fear or inexperience rob you of this moment.

Your brow knit in concentration, lips clumsy but earnest as you tried to follow his lead. your fingers tightened in his hair, grounding yourself as he shifted closer, rising from his knees until your faces aligned more evenly. His presence loomed, heat radiating from him, the kiss both overwhelming and magnetic.

Your cheeks flamed, the flush crawling to the tips of your ears, your heart pounded so hard you thought it would split your ribs. You had kissed him before, that single tentative brush of lips that made your stomach flip.

You had no experience to guide you, no secret lessons whispered from friends, no practice stolen in shadowed corners. Your life until now had been sheltered, filled with teachers, mentors, and old warriors.

But You knew what you wanted.

Even if your body trembled with nerves, even if your kiss was awkward and uncertain, your intent was clear in every brush of lips, every daring attempt to match the strange rhythm of his tongue.

You wanted him.

When the two of you finally broke apart for breath, you leaned back on the bed, one hand going behind you to keep yourself up as your other hand stayed on the back of Santanas nape, fingers buried in his hair. 

You tried to speak, but the words tangled in your throat. Santana's gaze lingered on you before he leaned away a bit, seeming a bit shy himself, and he began to revert his face back into place--

" N-No, wait-" You began, voice cracking a little before you coughed a bit, stopping him.

" St-.. C-Can you stay like that?" You asked, embarrassed as your face got much too warm. " I-... I like it.." 

 Santana froze, crimson eyes flicking to hers, uncertain. The ridges along his cheeks quivered as if unsure whether to retreat back into human mimicry or remain exposed.

Your face burned, fingers trembling where they clutched him, but you continued. " I... I like it. This is you,  Your real face. I want to see you, not a mask."

His chest expanded slowly, a deep inhale that betrayed how your words unsettled him. He lowered his head, almost shy in a way that seemed so impossible for someone of his size and power.

The silence between you both stretched until You swallowed hard and said the thing that had been building inside you, pressing against your ribs and throat since that kiss.

" I want you," You confessed, voice raw, unflinching despite the tremor in your body.

Santana blinked, tilting his head slightly, your words confusing him. " Want... me?"

Your lips parted, but the shyness made you stumble. You reached for his hand on your thigh and have him a squeeze, his other hand moving to rest atop of yours as you forced yourself not to look away. 

" I mean... I want us to... to have sex."

Still, the words landed flatly in his ears, foreign and confusing. His brows furrowed, expression unreadable.

You realized quickly he didn't understand. Your pulse quickened, but instead of faltering, you  straightened your back, meeting his gaze with a surprising steel behind your blush. You took a breath and pressed the word that you knew he would understand.

" I want to mate with you."

That made him still completely, as if a thread inside him had just been pulled taut. His crimson eyes widened faintly, the pupils narrowing to sharp slits. Something ancient in him stirred at the word, something that reached deeper than language and struck at instinct.

Your hand, still on his, felt the subtle shift in him; the way his muscles tensed, the way his breath deepened, the way his body reacted without him even willing it.

Your cheeks were burning now, voice barely above a whisper. " I-I know I'm saying it weird... but I mean it. I want you, all of you."

Santana's mouth parted, his sharp teeth bared, though not in menace. His gaze dragged over your face, your good eye, the bandages wrapping the injured one, the earnestness carved into every line of your expression. He didn't immediately answer, didn't move, but the weight of his silence pressed against you like a storm.

You broke eye contact first, breath catching.

" I was raised in solitude, around monks, around silence. I never felt this, never wanted this... until you." A shameful smile flickered on her lips.

" I don't even know if I'm supposed to feel this. I was trained to control myself, to rise above attachment. But you..."

You looked back at him slowly.

" You bring me down to earth. You make me feel real. And sometimes... sometimes I think I like that more than I should."

Santana leaned in closer. Still quiet, still unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now, like he was trying to understand, trying to piece together the meaning not just of the words but the feeling behind them.

His gaze drifted from your eyes to your throat, to the bandages, to the trembling in your fingers.

And yet... he didn't move to touch you.

Not yet.

Because now he was the one afraid... afraid of doing something wrong. Of misreading you. Of hurting something fragile again.

You saw it.

And reached out first. Just your fingers, just barely brushing the side of his cheek, where the skin was still pulled tight around bone.

" You don't have to say anything," You said softly. " Just know that this isn't a trick. It's not a test. I'm telling you what I want, even if it scares me."

He leaned forward slowly, and brushed a strand of hair away from the clean bandage on her cheek with the tip of his claw. Gentle, almost reverent.

You thought again of that prayer, and how some gods weren't made in Heaven.

Some were born in stone, and blood, and silence.

And you loved one.

The distance between you both shrank again until your lips brushed his once more. Still clumsy because of his teeth, but it was still familiar, carrying all the fragile hope and fear tangled inside.

Santana responded, tilting his head and deepening the kiss, hands sliding gently up your thighs and to your waist. It wasn't urgent or wild. It was patient, like a promise.

When you pulled apart, Your breath caught, moving with trembling hands to the button of your pants, fumbling slightly as the reality of the moment settled over you. Your heart thundered with the fear of being discovered, the taboo of what you two were about to do.

Your eyes flicked nervously to the door before you slowly peeled her pants and underwear down your legs, careful not to make a sound.

You pushed your pants down, along with your underwear, and shifted on the bed so you could prop yourself back and open your legs, baring yourself to him as her thighs trembled slightly from tension.

Your hand, still trembling, found his again, and your other situated on his head, between his horns. You guided him, not upward, not into another kiss, but down. Down between your legs, fingers tangled in his hair, holding tight.

He looked up at you once before you nodded at him, biting your lip.

And Santana obeyed.

Santana's lips brushed softly against your inner thigh, his breath warm and steady. As he lowered his head, a subtle shift passed over his features, an almost imperceptible curl of his upper lip, a narrowing of his eyes.

The scent, he thought, sharp and sweet, earthy and complex. It's theirs... It draws me deeper.

His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled, a primal reflex to savor and analyze the rich tapestry of your scent. It was foreign to human senses, but to him, it unlocked a world of understanding.

Santana dipped back down without hesitation, his mouth pressing against you with renewed tenderness. For your sake, he retracted the large teeth back into his gums, the soft, wet warmth of his lips and tongue teasing and exploring, tracing the contours of your pussy with a slow, reverent hunger that made your shiver.

His eyes, half-lidded and dark, met yours briefly as he pulled away slightly. You trembled under his touch, fingers threading through his hair and grabbing onto the base of his horn closest to your hand. You swallowed hard, mouth dry.

Santana went back in, deeper this time, his movements slow and worshipful, learning every secret curve, every tremble, every whispered shiver. His tongue dragged slow and deliberate through your folds, tasting, learning. You whimpered, hand tightening around his horn, biting into the flesh of the other instinctively as your body arched slightly.

You glanced toward the door again, the fear of being heard mingling with the pulsing ache between your legs.

You had never done this.

Never even imagined doing this.

But he was here. Santana. Ancient, frightening, loyal Santana, worshiping you in silence like you were something holy.

Every motion of his mouth sent sparks through you, every flick of his tongue was a new kind of sin, and yet all you could do was tremble, gasp, and hold on to him like you would drown otherwise.

Your thighs tensed around his head, gritting your teeth as both your hands grab onto his horns tight. In return, Santana's hands gripped your thighs, firm but careful, his strength always restrained around you, even when instinct clawed at the edges of his control.

You let yourself fall backwards on the bed, spine curling as you shifted to give him better access. The position made you feel vulnerable and exposed, but under his hands, that vulnerability sparked with heat instead of fear.

" wha- hey-?!" You whimpered when Santana pulled away from you completely, watching as He followed your motions, standing up now and pulling your bottom half up with him, one of his knees bracing on the bed to steady himself, his arms wrapping around your hips to keep you in place, your legs bent over his broad shoulders.

For the briefest of moments he paused, eyes locking onto yours, and then he opened his already split mouth, revealing his tongue. It was long and serpentine, curling in the air like a weapon unsheathed. The sight alone made your stomach flip, a mix of terror and raw desire.

 He wanted you to see it, teasing you with it before he even went back to it, to make you understand what he intended.

Then he pressed it back to you, stroking deep and slow. The length of it gave him reach no human could ever match, tasting places inside you that had never been touched. You let out a strangled sound, hands flying to grip the sheets beside your head as you bucked against the overwhelming sensation. He held you steady, claws biting gently into your skin, determined to wring every sound from her throat.

You tried to quiet yourself, biting down on your lip hard, but your body betrayed you, hips trembling, chest heaving, your thighs instinctively trying to close around his head only for him to spread them wider. His tongue moved with a rhythm both practiced and alien, flicking, curling, and pressing until her vision blurred.

The climax ripped through you with sudden force. You cried out with a hand over your mouth, muffling your noises and stifling them down into just small whimpers, back arching sharply, fingers clenching around nothing as your body gave in. He didn't stop, not immediately, he drank in your release, tongue lapping up every drop, savoring it like a man starved. 

You let out a soft, breathless laugh between whimpers, squirming. " Okay--okay, that's-Santana, that's enough, I-- s-sensitive--"

He pulled back just enough to breathe, licking his lips, his tongue flicking out to taste what lingered on your skin. He licked her once more, slow and savoring, before finally letting your legs slide down from his shoulders.

Your skin tingled from the aftershocks as he rose over you, bracing himself on his hands as he hovered above. His breath was hot against her cheek, chest rising and falling with slow, grounded rhythm.

You looked up at him, eyes still glossy, heart still pounding, and she smiled, dazed and warm, one hand reaching up to brush his face, thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

His breath heavier now, his pupils wide. You could feel the heat radiating off him, but more than that, you felt him, hard and heavy against the inside of your thigh where his hips brushed her as he leaned close.

Your breath caught, the ache in your belly hadn't left. If anything, it had sharpened, grown heavier with the knowledge of what comes next. Your body was still trembling from release, but the desire hadn't cooled. Instead, it flared higher at the sensation of his length pressing insistently against you without even entering. 

The thought of him inside of you, filling you up completely, made your pulse race.