#megmichael

casey you're fucking adorable

Meg chews on her lower lip, barely holding herself back from drawing blood. If she does, they'll have to leave the party earlier than she wants. Michael knows the smell of her blood better than anyone else's. He says it's sweet the way nightshade berries are right before they stop a person's heart.

Turning her had been an accident, but neither of them regret it. She had invited him in, listened to him slaughter her whole family, then looked him right in the eye as he came for her. There had been so much blood dripping down his chin and neck. His kiss tasted more like her brothers and sisters than it had his own mouth.

Most of the other celestial dragons call her ugly when they think she can't hear. Michael knows most would care, but Meg isn't most. She's decided what she is and no one matters outside that. Her scales aren't smooth, they're torn and jagged and sharp and she has no horns like they do. She is considerably smaller due to her lineage, but Michael almost finds that appealing. Her size is an advantage. Others look at her and think she'll be easier to fend off because she's small. No, not Meg.

Michael has seen her climb an enemy's body and claw their bellies open, then breathe fire into the gaping wound. Meg is nothing to be trifled with. After all, there's a reason she's survived so long in a land that considers her an abomination. She is strong in so many ways, cunning and intelligent. Michael wants her, wants to see an egg sitting in a ring of fire that he can tend to every day.

He wants to see an egg nestled in the coals of a fire that they both tend. Above all Michael wants to know what their offspring would look like, a mixture of their blood and he doesn't care that this makes him a traitor. Meg is beauty and daring. She is fire and earth, she has become his everything and he will do absolutely everything within his power to show her just that.

Meg doesn’t know why the blessèd son bothers with her. She knows how his kind feels about her, that his entire social standing would be ruined if anything did happen. Any attempts to warn him off fail. He doesn’t truly push, he isn’t Infernal, but he makes it known that unless she declares him unworthy to mate, he isn’t giving up. Meg should. She knows this. But she can’t. Michael is power, pure and unrestrained. His blood isn’t diluted like hers is. 

His scales are smooth silver and reflect the color of the sky when he’s flying. The horns that twist out of his head in spires can gore right through any other dragon’s hearts, killing them so easily. Even his fire is pure. Meg’s fire is orange and cold. Michael’s though, his is white and blue and violent. He could even burn her, if he so chose. He doesn’t, though. Instead he chooses to lay her out gently. 

Michael licks her with a dragon’s tongue, squirming it inside until she comes and cries out for him. He doesn’t fuck her, he holds her and joins with her. It’s both of them together, her legs around his waist and his cock being taken into her body so willingly. She hisses and purrs in their native tongue, cooing when he growls back. Meg knows she’s fertile, that she’ll lay an egg within weeks and that they’ll have to run off to keep their child safe. 

This isn’t the first time Meg has run off, though. She knows Michael can and will keep her and their child safe. So when the time comes and they do eventually leave, a bit shocked by the help they receive from Michael’s young cousins Sam and Dean, Meg has no regrets. They find a mountain with caves and forests and make it their own.

When their baby hatches his scales are silver like Michael, but rough and jagged like his mother’s. His eyes aren’t white and blue like his father’s—they don’t glow. Instead, they’re black as pitch. Michael cries over how perfect the small creature is and marvels when his first fire twists in orange and blue-violet.

They name him Lucifer.