#cherrytober2024

Years of living with Hiccup and now Toothless finds a problem. They’ve been living on the Edge for a good few months now, Dagur seeks to redeem himself to his sister and find their father, Viggo is dead in the recently stabilized volcano and mating season is right around the corner. That last part, in and of itself, shouldn’t be a problem. Toothless simply has no need for it, his mind isn’t on finding himself a mate just yet. Hiccup is the only family he needs.

Or that was the case with previous years. This time, the upcoming season sends him itching for something he has never desired before and the thing is, he doesn’t even want to search for it. Whenever he thinks of the mate he wants, his mind immediately jumps to his human and just being near him is enough to scratch that itch.

So he makes no advances, nothing in their relationship changes except for one thing; Either he sleeps on Hiccup’s bed or Hiccup sleeps on his. They never talked about it, he’s not sure what it is that he did that tipped Hiccup off, one night he simply crawled up on his stone slab with him and Toothless eagerly curled up around him. Ever since then, without a word spoken, they’ve shared the same bed for days.

Then one morning, that’s when the problem rears its ugly head. Toothless is awoken before the sun even rises, not by a nightmare, not by a sound or anything Hiccup does in his sleep, but by a scent.

He’ll never admit to it, but his nose is far from as strong as Stormfly’s. Much better than a human’s, but far below a Nadder’s. Still, a new scent fills his nostrils.

Strangely enough, it’s one he’s familiar with and he knows exactly who it’s coming from. Hiccup smells this way every month for a few days before he bleeds, he has always thought it ridiculous that humans needed to deal with such an evolutionary kick to the groin.

He knows exactly what it means, has always known it, and yet it never affected him the way it does now. He never smelled it as strong either and he can only think of one reason why. Mating season is around the corner and he’s grown up enough to care.

He’s starting to itch in a very peculiar way. Opening his eyes, he quickly finds his Rider, who is still fast asleep. He lies within his forelegs, head rest on the same one his arms are wrapped around like a pillow, lower body barely facing away from his nose. All he wears is a nightshirt and some underwear. Their close proximity makes this worse.

His mouth begins to water, lying here on the stone slab is suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, especially down below. He desires something that he couldn’t possibly ask for when Hiccup is too asleep to even consider it. He’s not even certain the human can take him, which is why he was perfectly content if their bond never changed from what it currently is. He doesn’t need it to change, but mating season falling perfectly in line with Hiccup’s lunar cycle is throwing him for a loop.

The dragon fidgets, trying to return to his slumber and yet unable to lie still. The scent is so distracting, so all consuming. It fills his head with thoughts he shouldn’t have and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

A small part of him whispers that it’s okay to at least smell him, his body is just reacting to what comes natural to all dragons, even if his bond with Hiccup is anything but. It’s not like Meatlug and Fishlegs have this problem.

He should take a deep whiff, his scent is far from bad. It’s alluring, drawing him in, inviting him to smell and he should take his body up on its offer. To smell, of course, and nothing else. Toothless can’t help the whine that leaves him, his self-control slipping. He knows he should get up and just remove himself from this situation, but that is already beyond him. He thinks about it, but his body won’t move.

Before he realizes it, his nose is closer to its mark, the scent impossibly strong. And then suddenly, Hiccup has been rolled onto his back and his dragon’s nose is between his legs, indulging himself with the scent. Now that growing voice in his head is telling him something much, much different and he can’t help the soft, but possessive, growl. He presses his nose further into his Rider’s groin, accidentally stimulating something incredibly sensitive and a certain someone represses a strangled moan, legs trembling at the attention.

Barely removing himself, Toothless’s big eyes look over and finds Hiccup very much awake and staring at him. His arms are wrapped around his foreleg still, but they’ve squeezed him tighter and his cheeks are bright red. He didn’t think he would wake up to this, but he has and Toothless isn’t sure what he must be thinking now. A rarity.

He’s almost mortified enough to pull away, almost. That scent still draws him in.

Than Hiccup does something he wasn’t expecting; he spreads his legs apart, giving him plenty of room to work with. He’s allowing him access, giving him permission to follow that scent and that voice to wherever they want him to go. Through his osft linen nightwear, the dragon can feel his heart racing below his sternum. His own heart beats faster, too.

Gale would never forget the first time he caught her scent on the breeze.

Seraphil was locked in combat, focused on raining fire down on a group of goblins. One of them nearly blindsided her, their spear aimed to strike her hip. With the agility of a jungle cat, she spun, kicking the creature away before it could land the blow. In that quick breath, the wind shifted, and the unmistakable fragrance of lavender flooded his senses. Though he stood meters away, it was as if he were right beside her, face buried in her hair. A flash of pain jolted him back— his orb had cracked against his chest, nearly breaking his concentration as his mind drifted dangerously close to her.

Those days had been a waking nightmare. The orb’s relentless grip had caged his thoughts, keeping him from even the smallest fantasy of her, leaving his desires to fester and ache with every passing moment. It was the cruelest form of torment Gale had ever known— being so close, yet so utterly deprived. But now, with its power under his control, he was free from the orb's suppression. Free to indulge every thought, to savor every whim that had long been denied him. And he fully intended to do so.

The trek from the Shadow Cursed Lands to the Gate had stretched into its sixth long day, and as dusk settled over the camp, Gale still found it hard to believe— Seraphil was his. No longer were they separated by distant thoughts and longing; now, they shared a tent, a bed, their hearts and bodies. Earlier, she had laid her belongings at his feet with that graceful, quiet assurance he adored, before heading off to hunt with Halsin and Jaheira. Gale welcomed the task of setting up their tent. With a casual flick of his wrist and a quiet command, an Unseen Servant appeared, freeing him to focus on crafting a hearty meal that would warm the group’s spirits after another grueling day.

The fire crackled as grease snapped and hissed from the roasting meat by the time the druids returned. Halsin, still in his massive bear form, lumbered into the clearing, a buck draped over his shoulders. Behind him, Jaheira and Seraphil followed, their hands full with fish and a rabbit— a clear sign of a successful hunt. Out of the corner of his eye, Gale noticed Karlach and Lae'zel moving to help with the game, but his focus was unshakable. Sera set her catches down onto the butcher's table, then looked up, meeting his eyes across the dimming camp.

Seraphil's presence was usually a balm, her gaze filled with warmth and tenderness. But now, as she stood before him, the firelight turned her eyes into molten embers, burning with a predatory intensity that sent a chill to Gale's stomach. Blood streaked her lips, dripping down her throat and chest in dark rivulets. His heart lurched, his breath faltering as the primal urge to flee clawed at the edges of his mind. But then the wind turned, carrying her scent to him, and he was frozen in place.

Her scent hit him with a force, rich and overwhelming. The musk of her sweat mingled with the lavender oil in her hair, while the blood on her skin added a sharp, metallic note that sent his pulse racing. It was raw, wild, and impossibly seductive. From across the clearing, he saw her breathe him in, and a sudden thought seized him— could she sense him just as strongly? The answer came in the form of a feral smile, her lips curling as she stalked toward him with a predatory grace. Gale’s muscles coiled tight, his heart pounding in rhythm with the anxious heat pooling in his gut. His breath hitched, his cock straining with a need he couldn’t hold back as she closed the distance. He barely registered her barking out an order for someone else to finish dinner, every part of him focused on her presence as she reached him.

Though she was significantly shorter, Sera now loomed over him as he sat, radiating a commanding presence that sent a shiver down Gale's spine. Her fingers dug into his jaw, forcing him to look up into her piercing gaze. Her fingernails seemed sharper than he remembered, and he swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her intent settle over him. “I have slain a deer,” she declared with unyielding confidence, her voice stripped of its usual sweetness. “I require grooming from my mate. Are you ready?”

Gale barely managed a nod before Seraphil yanked him toward their tent, practically tossing him inside as she demanded he fetch her bathing supplies. His hands trembled as he rushed to gather what they needed: soap, hair oil, lotion, and a towel for them both. With the basket full, he stepped out of the tent, only for Sera to hook her arm through his, pulling him down the path toward the nearby creek. Once they were hidden from the others, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, biting into his pounding jugular as she lapped at his skin, smearing it with the deer blood in her mouth. Gale fought to maintain his balance, every nerve ending ignited by the sensations of her teeth trailing along him. It was a dizzying feeling that washed over him, intoxicating and raw, and he felt an overwhelming need to surrender to her wild abandon.

Every bit of Gale’s resolve was tested in order to reach the creek, and Seraphil showed no hesitation once they did. With a swift motion, she pushed him back into the water, her movements resembling a predator closing in on its prey. The chilly water clung to their skin, soaking their clothes and sending shivers through him as it crept up to their shoulders. Instinctively, he stepped back, but she followed with an assertive, stalking gait. Her laughter rang out as she revealed her blood-stained teeth to him, making him shudder with both thrill and terror. “Are you running from me?” she hissed, her fingers curling around his shirt collar, her intense gaze and firm grip holding him in place.

Gale found himself at a loss for how to act. He was usually the one in control, but Seraphil's commanding presence left him feeling uncertain. All he knew was that she wanted him to groom her, so he resolved to follow through. "No, my love," he replied, his voice betraying a shaky anxiety that surprised him. "I just want to help you get nice and clean. Let's take these clothes off." He reached out to begin, but Seraphil again took the lead. Without hesitation, she ripped her shirt off, the linen tearing with a sharp sound before she threw it carelessly to the shore. He didn't have much more than a heartbeat to appreciate the perfect swell of her breasts before she was pressing into him, tearing open his shirt as his buttons plopped into the water. Her hands landed on his pectorals once he was free of the garment, her fingernails digging into his chest, sending a jolt of searing heat through him.

"My mate," she growled, her voice dripping with wanton desire as she sank her teeth into the thick part of his breast, causing him to quiver and gasp. The combination of her words and the bite sent a thrill of excitement straight to his cock, reminding him of the barrier of their trousers. Hooking his fingers under her waistband, he tugged sharply, pulling her leggings and undergarments down in one swift motion, and tossed them to the shore. Seraphil mirrored his urgency, deftly unbuckling his belt and loosening the ties of his pants, her free hand wrapping around his hardness, stroking him beneath the water. Waves of pleasure coursed through him, drowning out everything but the heat of her touch and the intoxicating scent of lavender that enveloped him as the oil separated from her wet hair.

As her hand continued to lavish attention on his cock, Gale began to scrub at her bloodied neck and décolletage, her skin quickly transforming into a sudsy canvas of vanilla soap and red bubbles. Her eyes rolled back in bliss as he worked his nails into her skin in languid circles, her lips parting in a sigh of relaxation. "That's my good girl," he murmured in a deep tenor, his voice laced with warmth and affection. He shifted his focus to her hair, eager to ensure every bit of her was free of the day's remnants. "Can't have your pretty skin smelling of deer."

Sera's eyes snapped open, revealing the wildness that danced within them, her primal energy shining through. Her grip tightened around his manhood, a tug filled with hungry fervor that made him grit his teeth in pleasure and restraint. "Mate with me," she demanded, her voice low and throaty as she wrapped her legs around his hips, hoisting herself into his arms with an urgency that took his breath away. "I want to smell of you. I want your scent to cling to me, so everyone knows I am yours."

His hands instinctively found her plump ass, squeezing her soft tissue as his feet dug into the sand of the creek bed, grounding himself to hold her steady. Normally, he would overindulge her cunt with his mouth, teasing her until she came on his tongue, and stretch her open with his fingers to ensure she was ready for him. But this was clearly not the time to argue with her desires. He groaned as she angled her hips just right, the tip of his cock brushing through her soaking folds, making him twitch in anticipation. "Gods, Seraphil," he panted, fingers digging into her flesh while his lips found her neck, nipping gently at her skin. "You're so beautiful.”

“Must you always be so sweet?" she snarled, fisting her hand in his hair before slamming her lips against his with a hunger that left him breathless. Her tongue slipped recklessly against his, her teeth grazing his lower lip as she devoured him. There was a raw, untamed energy in the way she kissed him, in the way her body arched and aligned so perfectly with his. She sank down on his cock, taking him in a single, intoxicating stroke. Gale groaned into her mouth as her tight cunt fluttered around him, her walls spasming as he stretched her open. The sensation was overwhelming, her body pulling him in until he was buried to the hilt, and all he could think was how perfectly they fit together, like the Gods had crafted them to be one. Every pulse, every clench of her pussy wrapped him in a bliss so profound, it was as if time had stopped and only their bodies existed in that moment.

Gale hardly took a breath before Seraphil was bouncing on his length with an intensity that left him clinging to her for dear life. His fingers dug into the supple flesh of her ass, struggling to hold her as she moved like a wild animal against him. Her forehead slammed against his shoulder with each desperate buck of her hips, her breath coming out in harsh, ragged gasps that tickled his neck. Every bit of him burned with the heat of her body, the relentless rhythm sending shocks of pleasure through him. "Fuck yes," she growled, her voice breaking between panting breaths. "Give me that fucking cock.”

Gale's mind spun as Seraphil's rough command echoed in his mind. She wanted more than tender words; she wanted to be mated, claimed with primal intensity. But the way they stood now left him restrained, unable to take her as fiercely as she needed. His gaze swept across the moonlit surface of the creek, the silvery light catching on a flat rock jutting out near the shore. Perfect.

"Oh, I'll give it to you alright," Gale rasped, wrenching her from his cock and tossing her over his shoulder with a possessive grip. The feel of her squirming against him and biting at his back only fueled the fire burning in his gut. As he waded through the water, her sweet, intoxicating scent filled his lungs, and he couldn't resist. He thrust his fingers into her slick heat, curling them to stroke her tender spot within, his thumb pressing into her swollen bud with the same rhythm. Her keening moan shot through him, making his chest swell with pride. "That's it," he breathed, his voice low and rough. "You like that, don't you? Like to have your pussy spoiled?”

Sera nodded against him, her breath warm against his skin as he softly laid her onto the cool, smooth rock. With a slow, deliberate motion, he slid his fingers from her soaked cunt and brought them to his mouth, locking eyes with her as he licked them clean. Her stare burned into him, and he groaned low in his throat, savoring her honeyed taste. He then dipped down to capture her lips with a fierce kiss, his tongue urging hers to taste herself. She did so with a hungry eagerness, and her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, trying to draw him back into her. Gale pulled back with a teasing shake of his head, holding her hips in place as she squirmed beneath him. "Oh no," he tutted. "You said you wanted to be mated, remember? A ferocious beast like you needs something a bit more…special.”

With all the gentleness he could muster, Gale turned Seraphil onto her stomach, pulling her hips toward him with a swift, commanding tug that elicited a deep, throaty groan from her. It struck him that he had never taken her like this before, and he silently cursed himself for the missed opportunity. From this angle, she was a vision– her plump ass and voluptuous hips curving so perfectly into the small of her back. His breath caught as he guided her knees against the rock, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh with reverence. Slowly, he spread her apart, marveling at the sight of her glistening cunt. "Gods, look at you," he breathed, his thumb sliding through her wet folds. "So wet, so eager. Are you ready for this cock, my lovely little beast?”

“Fucking give it to me already,” Seraphil demanded, again taking him by surprise with her uncharacteristic gravely voice. 

Gale huffed out a laugh, his grip tightening on her ass as he guided the head of his cock to her waiting cunt. With agonizing slowness, he dragged his tip through her lips, swirling it lazily around her clit. Her sharp cry of need only made his grin widen. "Now, now," he scolded, his voice low and teasing as he gave her ass a soft, playful smack. She tried to buck back against him, but his fingers dug deeper into her flesh, holding her firmly in place. "Is that how we speak to our mate? Don't you think you should say please?" A spark of mischief flickered in his chest, surprising him. He hadn't expected to enjoy this side of himself so much, but the way she responded to his control– the way she seemed to crave it– was completely enthralling.

"Please," Seraphil hissed the word, her voice full of reluctant submission as her hips bucked back against him. Gale didn't stop her this time. Instead, he allowed just his tip to slip inside, his gaze locked on the place where their bodies joined. It was mesmerizing– the way her folds stretched to take him in, as if her body was devouring him. With painstaking slowness, he pushed deeper, a low groan rumbling from his chest as her heat gripped him tight. He took in a sharp inhale as he bottomed out, his entranced eyes still glued to the sight. He has to fight to keep control, staying perfectly still once his hips pressed flush against her soft, yielding curves.

"Gale, please," Sera whimpered, her voice trembling with need, pulling him back from the edge of his trance. His fingers were digging into her hips, hard enough to bruise, and she was writhing beneath him, trying to move. Guilt flooded him, and he quickly loosened his hold, one hand slipping around her leg to circle her clit, the other sliding up her back in soft, soothing strokes. His hips began to move, shallow thrusts at first, as he watched her melt into his touch. Her moans became more desperate, more needy. "Fuck me hard, deep," she gasped, and at that moment, the regret dissolved, replaced by the fierce need to give her everything she wanted.

Gale quickened his pace, the sound of their bodies meeting echoing through the night as he thrust deep, pulling back only to fill her again. His gaze locked onto their coupling, mesmerized by the way her pussy clung to him, her juices smearing over their thighs. He could sense her climax building, the telltale shivers that rippled through her body driving him wild, her moans transforming into desperate cries. "F-fuck," she gasped, her voice breaking, each breath in sync with his relentless rhythm. "Please. Gale. My hair. Pull it." 

Her plea sent a surge of primal dominance through Gale, electrifying his every nerve. He tangled his fingers tightly in her hair, pulling her head back until her neck was exposed, her face angled up to the stars. His other hand found her clit, stroking it between his fingers as her scream ripped through the air, her grip on the rock tightening. Each of his thrusts drew another shudder from her, her body yielding completely to him. Leaning in, he bit down on her shoulder, his lips grazing her ear as he growled, "Are you going to come for me, my little beast? Going to soak my cock with that sweet pussy?”

"Yes, yes," she panted, her eyes squeezing shut as her small frame trembled under the surge of pleasure. The sight made Gale's need burn hotter, her surrender feeding his own desire.

In an instant, he stilled. His hand moved from her hair to her shoulder, gripping her tightly as he froze his hips and stopped the motion of his fingers on her clit. Her body quivered at the sudden pause, leaving her teetering on the brink of euphoria. "Say please," he hissed, his breath hot against her ear as he dragged his tongue along the delicate point of her helix, smirking when it twitched wildly beneath him.

"Gale, please!" Sera cried out, her fingers digging into his forearm as she tried to force him back into motion. "Make me come! I need to. Please!"

A low growl escaped him, her plea shattering the last of his restraint. Overcome with need, he wrapped his arm around her chest, hauling her body tight against his. His fingers returned to her clit, flicking over the sensitive bud with ruthless precision. Sera's nails dug into his arm as her moans broke into frantic, breathless cries, her body trembling as he thrust into her harder, faster. "That's it, my beautiful beast," he rasped, his voice thick with desire. “Come for me. Make a mess for me." His muscles in his abdomen tightened as he held back his own release, knowing he’d be done for as soon as she peaked.

Seraphil's scent shifted the moment she came. What had been a needy, aroused perfume during their coupling transformed into something utterly divine, something Gale could lose himself in forever. As her body tensed and her juices splattered over his lap, her scream of his name sounded distant, eons away compared to the blood rushing through his ears. Her tight cunt clenched around his cock, pulling him deeper into her, and his arm instinctively tightened around her chest as his own release followed. A deep groan rumbled from his throat as he spilled inside her, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of her neck. Coming with her was the most divine experience he’d ever had, the closest to heaven he’d ever been. As her shuddering slowed, so did his thrusts, his grip softening into a tender hold as she relaxed into his arms, their bodies still entangled in the afterglow.

He slipped out of her with care once their breathing and hearts started to calm, guiding them both back into the water. Kneeling in the soft riverbed, he caressed her skin with a gentle reverence, holding her close to him in a comforting embrace. Sera leaned back into his chest to meet his gaze. The predator’s fire in her eyes had vanished, replaced by the soft, angelic glow he knew so well. Her sparkling eyes lifted to his, a tender smile playing on her lips. “Thank you for indulging me,” she whispered, her fingers combing through his beard, her voice once again a melody of softness.

Sand sinks beneath his soles while the warmth of her hand soaks right through his palm. The bare light of the dregs of dawn watches them as Soul almost turns to look behind him, stopping when he meets the bright, shining green eyes of his partner, telling him that it's okay, they don't need to look back. He can envision it in his mind's eye, the city they once called home towering like its own kingdom, now shrunken in the distance they've both walked and still waiting for them to fall completely out of sight.

Maka's fingers deepen their grip between his and she gives him just the most gentle smile in the world, just for him now that it's all they have aside from the few possessions and the cloaking garments on their backs. A faint silhouette of the edges of his teeth poke out from the slight laugh he reflects from the surreal little feeling still following him, maybe them both, before she nods and takes his other hand. He then lets the flow of light consume him as she holds him in her gloves.

The narrow dark-red of Soul's glare squints back at him from the glass, fangs bared before his eyes inevitably drop back down to the marred line of stitches across his chest. Harsh bathroom light crosses through each line over his skin but does nothing against the faint red glow sitting inside all of it. He flicks the light off, seeing both his eyes and the glow of his soul pierce through the dark of the mirror, until it softens again when the switch flips back on.

A huff clenches his hand against the sink into a fist, the other gripped tightly around the little journal that he's barely opened, probably intended to stay that way while he slams the light off, stomps out, and paces in no particular direction through his side of the motel room. Intended until he pauses, stares at his eyelids towards the ceiling, and finally yanks the pen out, rushing back to the bathroom, light practically punched on, before he tears the small book open to a random page and forces everything out of his head all at once.

His shoulders tense through his teeth as the soaked fabric peels away from his skin, the careful hands of his partner stopping when he grips them, eyes unable to escape hers this time. Even from the reverberation of her wavelength, Soul can feel the fear echoing back at him, taunting him, replaying that haze of fangs and flesh he woke up screaming from over and over and over again. Until Maka actually grabs his hand back, grinding his breaths to halt as a different echo ripples through him like a fish circling around him. Breathe. Breathe. I'm here.

Slowly he lets her lift the rest of his shirt away, no longer clinging to his skin in a chill of rust and horror, just tremble in the sweat of a vivid nightmare and the apprehension of the faint red glow still beating beneath his skin. He's still shivering, still meek as a kitten when she lightly reaches for it and the heat of her fingertips traces around the embers sitting just below the surface. Maka sighs softly, much like her palm pressing against it, watching him again even before he hesitantly fits one of his hands over her fingers.

Blankets shuffle in the dark, quieting, and then shift to the side as Maka sits up. Across the room in this hotel, she can see almost clear as day the red glow coming from his heart and his eyes while he's staring directly at her, not even a wink of sleep blinking back. With a sigh, she steadily scoots off of the bed and trails the blanket around her, subdued waves of panic bundling up the tight knot of anxiety in the corner strumming silently for her to stay away, away, away.

Her hand gently leans down to tap the side of Soul's arm, sighing again when the anxious warnings only grow louder, poorly masked by a grunt trying to point her back to the bed. A huff plops Maka down right by his side, huddling up close to the cloak he swaddled himself in and making herself a nuisance that so adamantly insists she will not budge if he doesn't. In the quiet that follows, his wavelength plucks softer this time, ushering them up from the corner of the room with him clinging to her side.

Soul's chest spews out an exhale, fighting with the shower curtain before quickly turning back to Maka, her arms crossed and eyebrow raised until it wavers with a hearty chuckle despite the circumstance. He rolls his eyes, hoping the urgency of their situation tugs hard enough through their connection and screeching to a halt when she walks up close, waving it away with a return thrum of what must be done, or it won't be at all. A rough swallow immediately moves him aside as Maka goes about undoing her top, letting Soul focus on taking off his shirt to stare at the glow beneath his scar while he hears her fully undress, him likewise the same.

The water feels startling cold before it eventually warms up, falling from the showerhead in earnest once the temperature is comfortable enough for her. For him, his face feels a bit too warm. Just make it quick, that was the goal; A shared goal he agreed upon, she allowed, and they're both going through before they're on the run again. Little comforts like this were sometimes few and far between, and between him and her... well he's getting used to it. He thinks.

Soul doesn't say anything when he agrees to let her help clean his back, same with him for Maka's. The way their souls bounce back and forth feels both like a familiarity he can ease into and a distraction.

Maka chews more eagerly as the yolk starts to spill out, making Soul unable to help the smile taking over while it makes cramming his sandwich into his mouth a little tougher. There's a delight, the kind that comes from the small things in life, fluttering in his chest at the way her legs kick over the edge of the library's roof, and he has to admit that part of it's from how good this tastes since the last time he's had eggs. True to form, his hand cups under his chin as it's his yolk's turn to try and escape its tasty fate, much to the I told you so nudge he gets from her elbow.

Admittedly, for as hot as it was already this time of morning, the city below looked beautiful with the way the sun washed over it like a painting. Even better, it's the small things in their life together like the way she smiles and the food dripping from the corners of her cheeks and the shimmer in her eyes as she scoffs at how much he managed to get on his face too. It pulls him away again, though, the edges of the second set of teeth beneath his tongue and the hunger for something else even before his sandwich has run out. And true to form, he looks up to Maka again when her shoulder lightly bumps him, head tilting to meet his eyes and the wavelength he's holding back with loose fingers.

She can hear his arms slide further over his knees but not a peep more. After another deep breath of hesitation, Maka flips past the cover, starts grazing through each page of scrawled handwriting and messy doodles and repeated nightmares on loop, like a record stuck beneath its needle. Dreams and thoughts of axolotls and souls, and fires burning him up, and teeth grinning from the darkness that turn into his, and the suffocating reality as the writing gets harder to decipher as the pages continue on, sketches of sharp fangs starting to take up more space. Something in her heart feels heavy and brittle when all the little drawings she recognizes as herself are all surrounded by the deafening silence he smothered over his suffering.

Quietly, she shuts his journal. Soul hasn't moved in the slightest when she turns back to him. Doesn't even lift a glance for a moment until he hears the sniffle, guilt and something fiercely vulnerable glowing from the embers of his soul. A slow, steady breath in, and a weighted exhale out before he nods, letting Maka sit up to him, holding her arm around him as another stifled sob starts to break out. Bringing him in as close as possible when a shudder chokes out from his head leaning deeper into the crook of her neck.

A sigh as soft as silken sand brings him back to the gentle gaze of her smile, the tilt of her throat outlined by waves of her dull blonde hair, undone and flowing down to her collar, and earnest muscle of her arm, hardworking and strong even on the run. The skin of her palm feels rough beneath his thumbs, the back feeling deceptively soft for how toned it is. His breath remains steady as the scent of her flesh and blood presses ever so lightly up to his lips.

Soul's eyes close, soaking it in, wanting to memorize each note of the pulse beneath as hers, her song and life and soul literally in his hands as her wavelength waits like a gentle shore on a pleasant day in his memories. Very, very slowly, he brings his mouth over the space between her thumb and index finger, letting the sharp, sharp edges of all his teeth sit right against the skin he could easily pierce within seconds. But he doesn't. Her hand rests delicately between his jaws while his eyes steadily reunite with Maka, his partner, his greatest friend, and the absolute faith shining back at him that pricks at the corners of his sockets.

He brushes his tongue where the saliva pooled as he detaches, pausing at the thrum of contentment he either wasn't paying full attention to or had just begun to ripple from the interwoven threads of their connection. Soul then runs said tongue awkwardly over his mouth at how Maka leans to expose more of her neck, knitting her hand through his fingers, pulling them in with tugs of trust. Blowing a long breath through his mouth, almost in a whistle, he lets himself carry that feeling towards himself too, scooting up closer and closer until her breath tickles against the lulls of his smile.

Maka's fingers gently fit into the back of his hair before he reaches his head around to the side of her throat, hesitating, swallowing, then resting his lips against the pulse running through the calm and reassuring breaths of life sitting just beneath. Breath that holds as he loosens his mouth over them, fangs gaping right against the surface until he sucks in a little, a hand of his keeping steady over the other side while the scent, the trust, the strength she always gives him settles along the taste of her skin across his tongue. Dare he say he could actually feel comfortable with himself and the other set of teeth no longer a threat to her, until the way her fingertips swirl through his hair and the coarse sigh purring through her wavelength at the rough of his taste buds starts to stir up a different kind of hunger, one that... he hasn't allowed himself to think about, even before all this......

Hastily he licks away where he'd probably overstayed his welcome, however when Soul pulls away to assess her stare, a... calling? Something more gentle than a tug but more urgent than the usual prodding moves Maka's hand from around his head to slide over the warmth of his cheek, captivating all of his attention by just the simple motion of her thumb resting over the corner of his mouth, wanting to see his smile again. Leaving him in a trance when she sits back a little to slowly lie down, never pulling her gaze away even as she takes his other hand and fits it over her heart.

I'm not afraid of you. So don't be afraid of yourself.

It's just like her, so daring just to remind him that she's his partner no matter what as if he hadn't already literally followed her to the ends of the Earth. To trust himself, though...

The fingers over her heart interlock as Soul admires the way the light of their souls together paints her, maybe like an angel, but definitely like the strong, fearless person he always knows she is even if not a meister by name, even if he's still her weapon all the same; not a beast, not a demon, not any of that crap except for probably the most hopeless fool that just can't keep himself from grinning while he drapes his hair over Maka's forehead, pressing nose to nose.

I'm not afraid. And I don't want to be afraid of the way I feel about you anymore, if that's okay?

Oh he recognized the smell, alright: Meisters and weapons, at arms to hunt another witch, another monster, demon, Kishin. But he sure as hell didn't like it. Hated the way they all pointed their claws and bared their fangs at his partner, snarling at her as if they had the right to speak to her to begin with. Well he didn't have to like it, and he snarled right back – Bared his fangs, sharpened his claws, felt the burning, seething hatred ignite in his chest and stoke that glow into a full-blown beacon, coursing that pure, hot iron through the war drums of his veins just under his skin. And he let it all out.

Maka's heels remain firmly planted into the ground even as a raging burst of magic, like feathers, explodes out from Soul, the force of nature whirling around her until it quickly takes the form of a giant salamander floating above her, talons outstretched and several rows of sharp teeth hissing out at the frightened meisters who soon try to take aim at him. All too fast, the wind hurls him forward like an unyielding storm to blow them all away with just the end of his tail, giving them no time to recover from the distance gained as he flutters his feathery whiskers at Maka and swoops down to let her jump onto his mane, the gales then lifting them up to swiftly carry her away to the sky.

Onwards, under the cover of dusk, where the lingering sunset casts crimson embers throughout the fur of his slithering flight.

Pure exhaustion keeps his body sunken onto the floor of this abandoned train car, the chill starting to seep into his skin as it slowly reshapes back into the form of a person, the heavy lids of his eyes and hoarse, overworked breaths soon met by the frantic heat of fingers, her palms reaching for his chest, his face. He's okay, Maka reassures, and he believes it for as tired as he's turned now. It takes everything he has to try to sit up, and he's given everything in return with the immediate embrace that lifts him up into her arms where his ear rests against the still-racing adrenaline of her heart.

Soul likes the sound. It's okay if it goes a little slower.

A light laugh shakes him a bit, a sense of calm starting to find him again in the hum of something sweet easing up his wavelength and the stroke of fingernails running back and forth through his hair. It empowers him into sitting up on his own, even just a little, just to see her face again while the warmth of her palms holds his head upright, resting against his skin down from the glowing green eyes of an angel watching over him. No... the eyes of Maka, by no other name than the one he would and has followed to the ends of the Earth, even if they never find home.

Peter growled lowly as he picked up the pace, thrusting harder and sharper into Stiles. All Stiles could muster was a broken whine. They'd been fucking for two hours now, every time Peter was close, he'd pause and instead of finishing the job, he'd spend some time leaving another hickey on pale skin. Once he was calmed down a little, he'd start fucking Stiles again. And all of that after the damn wolf had spent another hour lazily opening Stiles up with his fingers, with his tongue, until Stiles was a moaning, begging mess, pleading for more.

"Ple—ease," Stiles' voice broke, too rough from all the begging he'd already done.

"Mh?" Peter nosed his neck curiously. "If you're still capable of speech, I'm not doing enough."

And oh no. Stiles whined, a hopeless little noise, fingers helplessly tugging on the bonds that tied him to the bed-frame. Peter lifted his head off Stiles' neck to offer his mate a wicked smile, all fangs and red glowing eyes and Stiles' cock jerked desperately at it. He readily bared his throat to his Alpha, needing, needing. Peter's chest rumbled pleased by that.

"So good for me, darling," Peter whispered, attaching himself to the bared neck again.

He thrust even harder, hitting Stiles' prostate mercilessly until Stiles could feel tears of despair gathering in his eyes, sobs spilling from his lips. It was just all too much, too much stimulation for too long, too little friction, no release. When the first tear spilled from his eyes did Peter finally wrap his fingers around Stiles' cock and Stiles nearly came from the touch alone.

"Ah, ah, ah," Peter growled, nipping Stiles' jawline. "You only come on my knot, understood?"

"Yes, Alpha," Stiles forced the words out, knowing he wouldn't get to come at all if he didn't.

Peter's smile was sharp and pleased as he forced his slowly forming knot into his mate. He rocked back and forth while his knot fully formed, stretching Stiles so much, so much, so good, and when the knot fully caught, Stiles came hard, arching his back off the bed.

"So good," Peter's voice gentled, soft kisses peppering Stiles' face. "So good for me, my sweetheart, you did so good, sh, it's okay, you're okay, love, you were perfect."

He kissed away the tears, his hands undoing the bindings and gently massaging Stiles' sore wrists. Peter brought the wrists up to his mouth to kiss them just as softly. He sat back, carefully adjusting Stiles without dislodging his knot so the two of them could lay side by side.

"Hey," Peter carefully cupped Stiles' face. "Does anything hurt, love?"

Stiles shook his head, eyes half-lid, just to earn a stern look from his mate. "No. Just sore. Very."

He coughed a little and the next moment, Peter was holding a water bottle against his lips, letting him take slow sips. Stiles smiled up at his mate before snuggling into the soft pillows. He absentmindedly thought how nice it was to get dirty in sheets they wouldn't have to think about washing. Perks of hotel rooms, someone else would have to clean up the mess.

"Good," Peter smiled and pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek.

Stiles' eyes closed and he gave himself to the feeling of Peter's knot tying them together and the soft, expensive sheets against his skin. A wet towel started gently petting him down. Stiles wiggled his nose at how cold the water had gone, but then it had been hours.

"What's wrong, darling?" Peter asked concerned, pausing.

"S cold," Stiles complained, waving a hand.

"I'm afraid I'm a little… tied down at the moment and can't get warmer water, I'm sorry."

The cute thing was that Peter genuinely sounded sorry. Straight up offended with the water for not being to Stiles' liking. With a lazy smile did Stiles let some sparks dance around his hand and a second later, the water warmed up. Peter chuckled at him, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I can't have exhausted you that much if you still got enough energy to perform magic."

Stiles cracked one eye open, watching how his Alpha cleaned him up, amused. They both knew that it'd take many more hours to get Stiles exhausted enough not to perform at least minor magic. He was far too powerful for that. Stiles loved that look of pure adoration and admiration on Peter's face that showed him just how aware the wolf was of this fact. Of the fact that Stiles was incredibly powerful but chose to submit to him, chose to give up his power to the Alpha. Peter never forgot that, prided himself on that, and always made sure that Stiles would not regret that trust.

"You were wonderful, my love," Peter smiled gently while cleaning Stiles up.

He traced every bruise carefully, a mixture of pride upon having marked his mate as his and concern at making sure he hadn't gone too fast, pressed too hard. It was cute, because Stiles knew his wolf could control himself – at least when it came to Stiles. He'd never seriously hurt Stiles, not even on accident, he couldn't hurt his mate. Still, Peter always worried after. Even though Stiles loved the bruises, loved being covered in his mate's marks, loved it rough, begged for it.

"Are you hungry?" Peter asked, trailing his hands over Stiles' sides.

"No, I just want you, Peter," Stiles sighed, reaching out for the Alpha. "C'mere."

The Alpha smiled amused and obeyed, laying down with his mate and pulling Stiles close, his arms around the Spark to hold him tight. Stiles sighed again, content this time. This, this was his favorite side of Peter's. The gentle and caring one, the one that made sure Stiles was uninjured, happy and taken care off. The one who took care of Stiles. The only one Stiles trusted to take care of him.

"I love you," Stiles mumbled, pressing a kiss to Peter's jaw. "Happy anniversary."

"Happy anniversary, my love," Peter smiled and kissed Stiles properly.

It was their fifth anniversary and Peter had booked this expensive, amazing vacation, for the whole pack, but they left Derek in charge of wrangling the betas while the Alpha Mates enjoyed themselves and it was perfect, every bit about it was absolutely perfect and Stiles loved it.