#mighty feathers

The knob turned and the door opened silently, and soon after, a head peeked through. Careful. Slow. Vibrant green, vigilant as they mapped out the room, sensing for another presence other than the one she desired. 

When Aurora finds none, she slips inside with a last quick look over her shoulder, closing the door just as silently behind her as she opened it. 

She zones in on the bed and exhales giddily, the wet patch on her panties growing at the sight—her mouth-watering. 

There he is. 

And he looks perfect. Doused in dim candlelight, pink lips parted enticingly. His face so sweet and soft it makes her ache. An arm stuck under the pillow, highlighting the tattoos on his bicep and a strong thigh angled outward, with his briefs and scrub pants he didn’t manage to get all the way off before falling asleep still stuck on one calf. It’s such a photo-worthy impression of the innocence of sleep, of him being oblivious to her presence, it races a delicious shudder down her spine. 

She congratulates herself for waiting until today when he’s sleeping off a drinking game with Mountain’s mead, and not letting her impatience and frustration of him denying her get the best of her.

Her eyes travel further, her tongue darting out to wet her lips when Aether’s position gives her a perfect view of his soft cock, long and thick, and the jewelry adorning it, laying against the smooth roundness of his belly.  

A delicious synergy that has her fingers curl and uncurl, resisting the urge to touch herself at the sight. Why would she when she finally can have something so much more satisfying?   

With a practiced tug of her tail, her panties slide down her legs as she tiptoes her way over to the bed, her babydoll nightgown following with a quick lift of her arms over her head, both carelessly discarded on the floor, now only focused on getting to the ghoul in front of her. 

The bed barely dips when she climbs in, yet Aether scrunches up his nose in his sleep and lifts his head. Aurora freezes mid-movement with bated breath, her heart racing.  Aether smacks his lips, starts humming, and then smiles before he changes arms, burying his nose under it. 

Under other circumstances, if she wasn’t so single-minded, it wouldn’t feel like an eternity until he settled again. She’d find it adorable, and watch him with growing heart eyes.  

But as things are….

With a stuttering exhale, she crawls the rest of the way up to him.

Slight disbelief lets her hesitate but soon enough, her palm glides lovingly over Aether’s strong thighs, up to his cock. Tracing the protruding veins running along the length with the tips of her fingers, awed, each of the metal bars beneath the skin, around the snug fit of the barbels on the side, follows the ladder all the way down to his sac where it tapers off into rings that could fit on her fingers. In a bold move she tugs on one, featherlight, and watches in delight as the skin tightens under her touch and Aether’s cock jumps, starting to fill out even more, the piercings standing out more prominently than before. 

Aurora's whole cunt throbs in anticipation at the sight, spurring her into action. She’s on borrowed time after all. 

She swings her leg gracefully over his hips and spreads herself open with nimble fingers, slick dripping freely down on Aether’s cock as she lowers herself. Nearly shouting at the first hot wet slide through her folds, the covered metal dragging deliciously over her swollen clit and catching at her fluttering hole.  Helpless keens spill in tandem with the languid rolls of her hips out of her mouth, her attempts to stay silent failing. 

She can barely keep her eyes open to check if Aether‘s waking up, nothing else existing than this. The feeling of the increasing strain in her thighs from being forced so wide apart. The promising thrill of her cunt barely covering the girth of his cock. In this moment it’s everything. 

 “Feel how wet I am for you?” she asks, as if she expects a response, barely getting the words out. „I’m being so good. Feels so…“

Aether moans before she can finish her sentence, his hips rolling upwards just so while hers stutter to a halt, equally thrilled and afraid at the prospect of being found out. Slowly her eyes open, trailing from the ring in his belly button up to Aether‘s face. She expects to meet the gaze of two purple irises, her thighs trembling with the effort to keep herself motionless, but all she sees is a flutter of eyelids, a flash of his gold fang before he stills again. 

False alarm. 

Aether’s knot starts to swell beneath her, making her gasp at the sudden stretch when it breaches her, giving her a small taste of what she could have if he‘d drop the damn gentleman act, just fuck her and make her the prettiest accessoire of his cock.  

Another moan reaches her ears, along with fragments of sentences that cause a self-satisfied smile to grace her lips.

“Doing so well for me…Take a little more…”

“That’s it, sweet thing. So tight…”

“Who you‘re dreaming of, hm?,” she whispers and drags her fingers lazily through the pre pooling in Aether’s navel. She brings them up to her lips, swirling her tongue around them, savoring it. 

 “Dewdrop? Phantom? Breeding them full?” 

She drops her hand to cover the lower part of her belly, imagining the feeling of the outline of Aether’s cock beneath, his cum, locked in tight by his knot.  

She sighs, wistful. “That’s okay, I’ll make them even sweeter for you” 

Keeping her hand in place, her palm presses in with every swivel of her hips as she’s fucking herself on the knot, tightening around what she’s able to fit in until it hurts. She wants to feel it later. She wants to bathe in Aether‘s attention once he notices her supposed discomfort whenever she moves tomorrow. None the wiser of what happened.

“Just like that. Right…. right there” she whimpers, high and needy when she swears she can actually feel a bulge in her belly moving right beneath her palm and comes with a choked-off moan of his name all over his cock. Her knees tighten at each side at the intensity of it, riding it out while her release drips in rivulets through down the insides of Aether’s thighs, down to his balls and the sheets.

She finally slows down to a mere twitching, tipping her head back to pant towards the ceiling. She decides to allow herself another moment or two to bask in the afterglow and take everything in once more, her plans to hit and run - so to speak - waving at her as they pass by. 

When she’s finally ready to part with him, strings of slick still connecting them when she raises herself on shaky knees, a hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her surprised shriek. She‘s shoved back down and forward with a firm hand between her shoulder blades and another one gripping the base of her tail, barely giving her time to catch the fall before baring her to the room. 

Warm breath fans across her sweaty skin when her captor finally speaks.  

“Where are your manners, princess?”

Dewdrop. Fuck. 

“You’re far from done with him.” 

New droplets of slick slide down her legs at his words and she can‘t hold herself back from following the warmth of the body behind her, nodding mindlessly. 

She hears a zipper. Then the rustling of fabric.

“And I’m tired of watching” 

Mountain made this necessity a whole little ritual for himself.

Born in a season where not enough bumblebees were awake yet to ensure a consistently sustainable harvest outside the greenhouse. An individual celebration of the bond he had been gifted with. 

The straps of his overall are already dangling by his legs, his long sleeve on the floor behind him, step by step moving down the rows surrounded by green and yellow, the vibrations of the vibe dusting some of it down his arm, sprinklings of various colors in the fuzzy hair, as the stimulated anthers release their pollen.

The sight of the tip shallowly touching the inside of the small delicate row of petals reminds him of the pictures Aether showed him during the afterglow last night. Surprisingly sharp shots of the head of Aether’s cock nudged inside his and Dew's barely prepped holes just so and he feels himself clench around nothing, then twitch inside his loose pant leg. And with it the first drop of pre sliding down his thigh. Mountain takes a deep breath, the scent of soil, plants and faint arousal filling his nose. He lowers his hand to prevent any accidental damage to the flowers and…. 

He resists.  

Resists the growing impulse to abandon his task for instant gratification. There’s something reverent in slowly losing the rest of his clothes along the way and baring himself as he helps his plants to future fruition and he won’t ruin it. 

The distance between each garment on the trail he leaves behind is proof of it. 

And today, Mountain allows his other hand to drift here and there, his large palm giving the length of his cock a couple of strokes, paying special attention to the head every time he carefully inserts the tip of the vibrator into the flower. The last row almost breaks him,  steadily dripping a trail of pre and sweat on the floor. He has to pause to squeeze the base to starve off his release and keep his hand raised to aid the task.

He’s trembling too hard at this point to do it one-handed. 

By the time the last flower is done, he’s panting and arching into the touch of his hands, ungracefully stumbling to his knees before his back finally hits the dirt; rubbing the vibrator, laden with pollen residue, along his hard cock. His bare toes curl and uncurl deep into the wet soil beneath him as he keeps whining into the flesh of his arm. Gasping in the scents surrounding him

Relishing in the feeling of the thick pollen and cum fusion, he uses it to finger himself open, writhing needy and desperate down against them. He blindly pats around for his discarded overall, pulls out his phone, barely managing to send a bee emoji to the group chat. 

Booty calls (He sure hopes it does)

1.

It‘s cathartic. Being alone and singing his heart out, that is. Letting himself sink into someone else's happiness without having personal ties to them. It’s something he needs more than he cares to admit. To himself and even less to the pack. He thrives on being social and being connected so deeply, don‘t get him wrong, but it‘s draining. Feeling other beings alongside his own all the time. The many unfortunate souls that seek shelter here. Chewed up and spit out by a society that produces loneliness en masse. Crushed souls and shattered minds hopeful for a new beginning and….

He sings even louder, over the dark cloud threatening to form in his mind, and shimmies with a pile of clothes in his arms through the room. His tail swishing and bopping, used as a makeshift microphone when he gets carried away by the vibes.

He bends over to stuff the washing machine full, ass still wriggling to the tune on the radio, when a pair of hands still his swaying hips and warm lips burn right through the layers of fabric, pulling a startled chuckle out of Aether. First on the patch, following its invitation to kiss it, then right on the seam between his cheeks. Further down on the banana, followed by a bite that has his breath hitching in anticipation. He knows what the sight of him doing so mundane, so humanly domestic things like laundry does to Dewdrop. 

He feels the same when Dewdrop is in his element, showing his magic in the kitchen. A natural in combining flavors and textures and bringing Aether to his knees for a taste.

„It says kiss it not eat me alive“

He feels, more than he hears, Dewdrop's low laugh when the water pump signals the starting washing cycle. The old thing’s too loud when it gets going but the vibrations do wonderful things to him, as Dewdrop hooks his fingers into and drags the waistband down to bare Aether to his hungry gaze.

 „Let me kiss it properly then“ is all he hears before Dewdrop spreads his cheeks and seals his lips over his hole, making out with it until Aether’s knees buckle and he has to grip the edge of the machine to keep himself upright. 

 Aether doesn‘t get around to folding the dry laundry waiting for him.

2.

After breakfast, Aurora and Sunshine make it a game to follow him around making loud obnoxious kissing noises when he turns his back to them. Aether pretends to ignore them until, in one careless second, they get too close and he gets his hands on them. He contemplates just sitting on them until they cry for mercy but decides to dump them unceremoniously into the lake and let the water ghoul conference deal with those brats.

3.

Around midday, he helps Ivy maintain his namesake on the Ghoul Wing walls. He’s standing on a stepstool, sweating as the sun beats down on him, gently removing some stray vines from the wooden window frames and hooking them into the growth support on the walls. It’s necessary work, otherwise they’ll infiltrate the whole building.  A gaggle of siblings has been hiding behind the columns for a while now, dissolving into helpless giggles every time he looks over at them, talking to each other in hushed, excited voices. 

„I can‘t just go up to him and….“ 

Aether can practically hear the wild hand gesturing.

„it‘s obviously an invitation!“ 

“But…”

“What what in the B…”

Someone snickers. A smacking sound follows. 

“He’s so big, just imagine….”

He laughs to himself at that, amused. He can smell the faint arousal mixed with a dash of fear. Can feel it in the aura surrounding them. Some of them are new and haven’t had the time to experience what a ghoul can and would do to them. Just dared to let their minds wander. Most of them think the masks are infused with a containment spell, making them harmless servants of the church. And, in Aether’s opinion, that’s half of the fun of the whole cat-and-mouse game. 

One sibling, clearly more shy than the others from what he’s observed today, finally breaks away from the group and leaves their hideout behind the stones. They walk straight, seemingly confident. A closer look reveals that their hands are shaking and that the fine line their lips are forming doesn’t stem from determination. 

They stop behind him, eyes firmly trained on the patch on his ass. A minute ticks by and just in time, he turns his head to see them raise their hand to their mouth. An exaggerated smooching sound follows and two fingertips press firmly against the patch. Aether wriggles his ass a little and cheers erupt behind him. 

They finally look up at him and he sends a wink their way.

“I appreciate someone that can follow instructions like that”

They smile in response before their eyes widen in realization and they almost fall over their own feet to run back to their friends. 

Yet, they linger. When Ivy makes him take a break it‘s the patch stuffed into their mouth, muffling the pleasured chants of his name.

4. 

During a nap on the couch in the common room, it‘s Swiss that follows his patch‘s invitation. Lips firm, nose pressed so far into the swell of his butt that Aether could swear he can feel his teeth. Swiss does it once, twice. A third time. Aether smiles sleepily, about to comment if it wasn’t on for the fourth,  where Swiss just keeps his face buried there and starts snoring. He ruffles the other Ghoul's hair affectionately before he closes his eyes and follows Swiss back into dreamland.  

He wakes to Swiss’ sliding the hard ridge of his cock against the letters on his ass, forcing Aether‘s hips into the couch over and over until they both come. 

„Messy kisses are the best“  Swiss smirks as he watches his cum seep in. 

5. In the evening, Aether goes to fetch some firewood from behind the greenhouse. 

Mountain steps in front of him when he’s about to leave.

„Road toll. You shall not pass without paying up“ 

The look on Mountain‘s face is almost unbearably cheesy and Aether can‘t help but play along. 

„And what, dear sir, can I offer you to let me through?“

Now, Mountain's eyes start to glint mischievously and he takes the wood from Aether, dropping it unceremoniously on the ground next to them. Then he steps closer and draws Aether up against himself with a firm grip on his ass, fingers digging deep into the patch on the inside of Aether’s thigh. It forces the Quint onto his tiptoes.  

“I have a craving for banana and cream”.

+1

When Aether faceplants into his nest after his shift in the infirmary the next morning, only clad in boxer shorts, it doesn’t take long for Dewdrop to crawl between his legs and drop another kiss onto his ass where the patch had been sitting for too long in his opinion; giving Aether’s body freely away. It feels like a nod to the events in the laundry room yesterday when he was sending him off as he’s now welcomed back. 

“I missed you, starlight”  The words come sometime in between bouts of scenting him. In a narrow time frame when he pauses and starts anew. More of a breath than a sentence.

“Missed you too, firefly” 

Aether says and sinks into the feeling, lets the emotions that well up thrum through their bond, and accepts Dew’s in return. It’s easy when it’s him. A being so deeply interwoven with his own for so long.  A part of him wishes it would never end, the other wishes Dew would let him roll over and reciprocate sooner than later.  

Finally, after giving himself a moment to playfully nip into Aether’s thighs where Mountain left his mark earlier, he nuzzles and kisses his way up Aether‘s back. Aether inhales -  sharply -  then exhales - slowly -  with a laugh and reaches behind him blindly to tangle his fingers in Dew’s hair, craving more contact.

“Easy, easy. I’m here. All yours again”

Dew settles around him like warm summer rain. Calming, warm. The need to reclaim swinging along like an afterthought. 

“Want to mark you inside. Let me?” 

Querencia: The place where one's strength is drawn from; where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

Aeon slips into Aether’s office while he’s making his ward round. He knows the basics by now. Had watched longingly how Dewdrop knelt at Aether’s feet. And Aether, ever the observant one, had taken him under his wing with a loving but firm hand while Aeon had hung onto every word, every touch like the air he needed to breathe. 

Take off your clothes. Fold them neatly and put them on the chair. On your knees. Head bowed. Hands on thighs, unless other instructions are given.  Be seen but not be heard. 

He had felt like he had found another purpose in Aether’s pride. 

It’s still difficult for him to stay quiet and unmoving so unlike his nature. To not react without prompting to how Aether looks at him from time to time over the rim of his glasses, appraising. Promising. Sometimes telling him to stretch out his legs or get his pillow with a gentle nudge of quintessence. 

The way people come and go. Either treating him like he isn't right there, naked, rock hard, and leaking a puddle on the floor, only stealing looks at him. Or partaking if Aether allows it. 

Like Swiss dropping by to discuss plans with Aether, his hands casually wandering over Aeon’s upper body with teasing caresses over his neck and tweaking his nipples as he talks. Or Dew nudging the tip of his boot under his balls, making Aeon’s sensitive cock slide over the leather just so as he leans over the desk to pull Aether into a heated kiss. Tempting him to seek friction at the display in front of him and testing his obedience. No doubt hoping he’ll fail as Dew enjoys seeing him punished as much as he enjoys being part of the aftercare. 

He hopes he’ll be spared by visitors today. He selfishly wants Aether for himself, wants to be good only for him. 

The door opens and Aether finally returns. If he‘s surprised to find Aeon here again so soon he doesn‘t let it show. The spade of his tail drags fleetingly over Aeon's spine as he passes to get to his desk, making him arch up, and ends with a playful slap on his ass. That’s his greeting, his acceptance of Aeon‘s servitude. 

Aeon breathes the air with Aether’s renewed scent in deeply, then curls his tail around himself and waits. Let’s himself thrive in the simple but meaningful act of kneeling in Aether‘s presence, for Aether, ready to dedicate his body to him to ease his stress level and make the crease between his eyebrows vanish. The thought makes him glance at Aether‘s cock, laying against his thigh under the loose scrubs, moving enticingly when he shifts his leg. The things he would give to have that long thickness filling him already.  Stretching him impossibly wide, the ache, the taste… 

They both need each other, Aeon‘s sure of it. 

When Aether finally beckons him over, his body excitedly rises upwards, one alredy foot on the floor, about to push him upwards and he instantly knows he fucked up. He bites back a frustrated whine and lowers himself back down. Apologizing and hoping Aether won’t punish him for it. 

Aether just sighs with a hint of disappointment.

“Go on. Try again”.

Relieved that Aether feels gracious today, his voice having that certain cloying tone, Aeon rises again, properly only onto his stiff knees this time, and crawls over to Aether. His cock bobs in front of him, dripping all over the floor as he moves, giving Aether a good view of him. He wants to preen under his gaze.   

Aether’s large hands greet him when he settles again, stroking Aeon’s beaming face as he smiles down at him. The smaller ghoul nuzzles into the touch, kisses Aether’s rings reverently. Tries to wriggle his tongue under them to taste his sweat, and licks at the pad of his fingers where the ink has stained them. His eyes never leave Aether’s face, looking at him like he’s one of the seven princes of hell himself. 

„Such a sweet boy. Kneeling so prettily for me. You wanna help me relax, don‘t you? ” 

Aeon shivers at the praise before he nods fervently, eyes wide and glassy, whispering a “yes, sir. Please” and letting his mouth drop open and his tongue roll out in invitation, eager to be of use. Aether strokes his cock leisurely, pleased with the way Aeon offers himself and follows his every movement. Every word. Attention fully on him. Like it should be.

“Hands behind your back, grip your wrists. If you let go, I’ll stop. Understand?” 

Aeon nods again, shifting to do as he is told. Curling his fingers around his wrists as tight as he’d want his cuffs to be, digging into the finger-shaped bruises already on his skin. The feeling forces him to take a deep breath. 

It's a slow and intentional thing when Aether squeezes his cock from root to tip, forcing pre to pool in the slit. He shifts forward and drags the head of his cock over the smaller Quint's tongue with a small moan, Aeon's eyes rolling into the back of his head when the taste hits, a reedy whimper escaping his throat. A high-strung please is pressed into Aether’s mind along with it. 

Fingers fisted in Aeon's hair, Aether uses his grip to feed the little ghoul his cock, slides in until there’s no more for Aeon to take and then just holds him there.  Lets the tip rest at the back of his throat, groaning approvingly when he feels Aeon swallow around him, body going slack at the weight, at the way he can feel every single bar of his Jacobs ladder sitting on his tongue, how it fills his whole mouth and stretches his lips wide. His mind goes pleasantly hazy, everything narrowing down to Aether and pleasing him. Helping him destress. Being useful. Nothing else. 

Aether pulls him off, only to instantly push him back down and press in deep again, not letting him draw a full breath. Saliva drips messily over Aeon's chin and onto his chest as Aether uses him, fucks Aeon’s mouth in deep strokes, his sounds of pleasure washing over Aeon like warm summer rain. The small Quint’s hungry little whines and moans fill the room, slender hips hump the empty air in a desperate search of friction he’s not allowed. Drawing quick little breaths whenever Aether pulls his cock out just enough that air can flow and flushing hotly at the loud wet squelching noises he’s sure everyone can hear every time Aether pushes back in.   

„Lucifer, your pretty mouth. Made to be ruined”

The praise has Aeon tonguing at the metal adorning Aether’s cock, doing his best with the little room he has. He just wants to give Aether more and show how grateful he is.  

“That’s good. Really fucking good. Such a sweet boy for me,” Aether breathes, head tipping back. His fingers tighten in Aeon’s hair, his thrusts get a little sloppier, just that little harder. Aeon keens, long and high, too far gone to notice that Dew’s name falls from Aether’s lips in the throes of pleasure, in between his praises.  It almost overwhelms him, his ruddy cock kicking hard between his legs. His tail curls around Aether‘s ankle, needing something to ground himself before he loses it.

Then Aether slides in deep again and comes, momentarily depriving him of the taste where he wants it the most, staying there until his cock’s done twitching.

It's wonderful.

Aether drags his cock out oh so slowly and leans back in his chair, breathing labored. He graciously lets Aeon follow and keep mouthing at him, catching what he couldn’t swallow with his tongue, watching the blissful face of the little ghoul as he enjoys his extra treat. He ponders how good Aeon’s mouth would feel struggling on his knot and his cock twitches, causing a delighted noise from the ghoul beneath him. 

Maybe later today. 

His fingers in Aeon’s hair loosen and his hand just rests affectionately at the back of his head, twirling the short strands around his fingers until he starts to soften and overstimulation sets in.

“That’s enough, little star”.

Aeon takes the cue and when Aether’s all clean and tucked back into his pants, Aeon rests his head on his thigh, gazing adoringly up at him with a hoarse sounding purr, still happily working his mouth around the ache in his jaw, the cum still swirling around in his mouth. His face is a mess of fluids, lips swollen and Aether makes a mental note to snap a photo for his collection

„Please, sir. Would you…“ Aeon sounds wrecked, his voice cracking then giving out. He swallows. 

“Hmm?” A Cheshire cat-like grin appears on Aether's face as he tips Aeon’s face up and offers his water bottle to him. Encouraging him to take a sip.  He knows exactly what’s coming. Or rather, what isn’t. 

“M..may I come, sir?” 

Aether makes a considering sound, reaches down to drag a fingertip over the length of Aeon's sensitive cock, then sucks it into his mouth. Aeon’s eyes widen, and a wounded sound that shows how close he is to coming leaves him, hips jerking forward in minuscule motions even after Aether’s touch is gone. He pants as his cock keeps throbbing and pre-cum drips in rivulets down the sides. 

“I think I’ll keep you like this for a while longer,” Aether says, then folds his hands behind his head and smirks. 

Swiss knows the moment Aether looms over him on stage, jerking the fretboard of his guitar over him, what he really needs. What he has been missing. Why he’s lying here on the stage floor, letting himself writhe under the fleeting burn of the sparks hitting his body. The thought alone has him press the tail end of his Hagstrom into his hardening cock for a moment longer, imagination running wild, before he pulls himself to his feet like nothing happened, turning on his heels to see which side of the stage Aether went to.

 Mind made up. Plan already forming, knowing he has to act fast. Or Dewdrop gets him first.

He can’t let him have it. It’s his. 

He follows Aether with quick steps once he spots him, cuts into his path, and ushers him into the nearest empty room with a determined look that betrays his true intentions. Muttering under his breath that it wasn’t fair to tease him like this and then just walk away. That Aether should know. Ignoring the questioning noises Aether makes in response.

Swiss wastes no time to get on his knees and cup Aether’s full, heavy balls through the sweat-wet fabric of his stage pants, massaging them roughly. His mouth already dropping open at the feeling, a pleased shudder going through him. Anticipating the taste. The smell. How he’ll positively reek of Aether. He whines. 

„Aeth….“

A low, breathy chuckle comes from above him, Aether’s words reaching his ears in the same quality. “That’s how it is? Need me to match your outside with your filthy inside so bad?”

Swiss blinks, slow. His way of stopping himself from looking away. He won‘t get it if he looks away. He has to follow the rules. Then he nods.

“Please” he chokes out, unable to keep the desperation cursing through him out of his tone.  

Aether moves to brush a loc out of Swiss face, thinks about making him wait until they’re back at the hotel when Swiss turns his head just slightly and kisses Aether‘s palm so hopeful, so desperate, eyelashes already uncharacteristically damp and….He just widens his stance. He can’t. Not tonight. 

 „Take what you need, sweetheart”

And Swiss does. His hands fly to the fastenings of Aether’s pants, yanking him closer as he still holds Aether’s heated gaze. Doesn't even look away once when he finally gets them open and drags them down around his thighs, stretching his lips over the tip of that thick cock, tonguing the fat veins at the sides as he feels it fills out in his mouth. Encouraged by Aether’s groans, the hand cupping his cheek

Swiss whimpers when the taste hits, gets stronger with every drop of pre leaking steadily into his mouth. He holds him there, relishes in it, in the stretch, before he fumbles with the golden hooks of his vest,  lets it fall open, and haphazardly rips at the button tab of his dress shirt right after when it takes him too long to get them undone. Impatient and already too single-minded to care. 

He slowly lets Aether’s cock slip from his mouth, keeps jacking him, messy fingers rubbing and pressing into that sweet spot behind his balls while he inches forward until his knees find their place between Aether’s feet, close enough that any pre drips messily onto his belly. His thighs. Nothing shall be wasted.

And Swiss gets lost in the feeling, in the way Aether matches his hand’s rhythm, how he rocks forcefully down against his fingers. Intense. Generous. Giving him what he needs. What he craves. 

Feeling Aether’s balls draw up, he tips his head back and has Aether’s release spill over his chest. His hips jerk forward in abortive little thrusts as white ribbons decorate his warm brown skin. Instantly he frees one hand to smear it around, up to his collarbones and his throat. Gets it pooling on his fingertips to rub it behind his ears. Shiny stray droplets run down his belly, catching in his hair there before he reaches down to spread them with a happy sigh as well.

Aether can only watch as Swiss’ hands roam over his glistening body, eyes closed and mouth gaping, saliva spilling over the corners. Face blissfully slack, with sweet high-pitched sounds accompanying every move as he coats his skin with Aether, a sense of calm washing over him. 

Aether finally lowers himself down in front of Swiss with an elated laugh, his hand coming up to thumb a drop Swiss somehow missed over his nipple, dragging it all the way down until he reaches the waistband of Swiss pants and pops the button out of the hole.

The sight that greets Aether when he finally returns to the ghoul common room after a too-long shift melts his heart and momentarily drowns out his bone-deep exhaustion. The pulsing pain.  It’s balm for his lonely soul. He wants it painted, framed, and hung over the fireplace. 

He stops rolling his tense shoulders, stops stretching his limbs to keep the burning in muscles of his body at bay, and simply stands in the door frame, taking his time to take it all in and commit it to memory. 

There’s Dew, on the brink of falling asleep. His eyelids fluttering closed, upper body tipping over just so only to snap open as his instincts shock him back awake. The process repeats itself a few moments later.  And it‘s all for Aether. Or well, because of him. As warm and fuzzy, and admittedly a little horny, as it makes him feel that Dew waits up for him and that he doesn’t have to come back to a quiet, empty den and can instead spend some precious moments with Dew, it never fails to make Aether feel guilty as well. There are just so many better, healthier, more enjoyable things he could do with his time instead of waiting for good ol’ Aether.

But that’s not all of it. What truly gets to him is how individually Dew runs his fingers through the hair of the two ghouls with their heads propped up in his lap. One side treated carefully and focused on the top, the other firm, with his fingers running deep through the strands of hair.  An adjustment to his glasses reveals Ifrit and Phantom. Conked out and slightly drooling.

The urge to join is immediate and so is the feeling of envy. Aether would be lying if he denied it, knowing how good Dew’s warm fingers felt running over his scalp and temples and how long Phantom and Ifrit were able to enjoy it while he was stuck somewhere else. How just one touch would ease his ailments so fast. But Aether won’t ask. Not when he can see how stiff the movement of Dew’s fingers still is, remembering this morning when he couldn‘t even get them to bend.

But for a moment Aether only aches for him and his touch and a cooing sound leaves him before he can stop himself.

Dew blinks sleepily in his direction at the sound before, once it falls on Aether,  his gaze turns razor-sharp, a smile lighting up his face, fangs flashing. 

It’s a hello and finally you’re back in one and the pull of it has Aether moving before he’s aware of it. 

“Look at you, taking care of the kids,” Aether quips, as he leans over the back of the couch and brushes his lips first to the back of Dew’s neck, behind his ear, and lastly on his cheek. He lingers there and closes his eyes. Just that little contact, to only breathe Dewdrop’s scent in,  feels like his quintessence is channeled back to him with renewed energy. It makes the pain from bending over that shoots down his spine and into his legs and has him freezing up for a good few seconds more than worth it.

Damn the frazzled nerves from too much quintessence use without enough breaks in between and his aging vessel. Not to mention damn himself for sitting outside with Mountain for way too long last night. Dew‘s palm rests on his cheek a second later, holding his face as if he can hear the inner monologue Aether’s hiding from him and wants to tell him it’s okay.  

Aether could fall asleep like that. He just might. Who’s going to stop him? 

“My husband, he has finally returned from war”

There’s tired laughter in Dew’s mind voice and again, that pang of guilt that sits in Aether‘s chest grows again. That Dew’s choosing to communicate this way says a lot and he presses even closer, smushing his nose into Dewdrop‘s cheek like it can stop that little black hole from growing further. 

„He has indeed. Where is his leg poppin' welcome kiss?“

„I‘ll pop something else for him,“ Dew grins, earning him a nip in the jaw but he just leans into it, so he nips at Dew again until he turns his head and rests their foreheads together. Their own little bubble.

Aether sighs dramatically, ramping up the fakeness of it all.  „Maybe I wanted to be the one doing the popping, ever thought of that? That it was my lifelong dream? Now my leg will forever be tragically unpopped.“  

Ifrit stirs before Dew can unleash his undoubtedly snarky reply to him, and they both look down as he insistently nudges Dew‘s free hand back into petting motions with his nose. Phantom, follows suit, smacks his lips, and rolls over, belly up.

 Aether and Dew share a look before a chuckle bubbles out of them. 

“Idiots tried to stay up for you with me. Failed pretty hard,” Dew explains, so much fondness in his words that it has Aether wanting to know about the undoubtedly interesting events that took place. 

„They fell asleep for a noble cause. Just have to figure out how we get them up and into bed.“ He grasps Dew’s hand, rubbing his thumbs gently over the swelling. He‘d love to use his quintessence to pull all of Dew‘s discomfort into himself but can‘t. He feels the refusal of his being to deplete his energy completely.

“Maybe…”

Mountain's head appears at the kitchen door, followed by the rest of his body after an oddly long moment, holding a jar of chocolate spread in one hand and one of peanut butter in the other. The munchies have struck again it seems.   

“I’ll help carry those fools to bed if you wanna?”

Aether opens his mouth to answer, undoubtedly about to decline the offer for some dumb reason, but the look on Dew’s face sends him a clear message. Aether needs to let Mountain help or else. Even in his tired state, it’s no less threatening. So Aether relents. Reluctantly. 

“We wanna. We definitely wanna”

Mountain gives them a thumbs up and once he has his hands free, he scoops Ifrit into his arms, while Aether does the same to Phantom. “Fresh, hot fire ghoul delivery goes where?” 

“Aether’s room. I may or may not have to keep a promise”

Aether has many questions regarding that statement, the implications giving him the heebie jeebies, but he just nods for Mountain to follow Dewdrop, making him the tail end of their little caravan. Back there, Aether can freely grind his teeth through Phantom’s added weight, through the gritty sand-like feeling in his knees, especially when the smaller ghoul starts chasing something in his sleep, ‘running’ on all fours in the air. Under any other circumstance, Aether would find that hilarious, but as it is he has half a mind to drop Phantom and make it look like an accident. 

In the end, he makes it. 

They make it. 

Aether and Mountain navigate around each other to choose a nice fur for Phantom and Ifrit to curl into each other. Mountain gets the softest of kisses for his help that has the tips of his ears blushing and him stuttering a little as he bids them goodnight.    

Dew disappears into the bathroom and Aether hears the water start running as he makes a solid attempt to rid himself of his infirmary uniform, letting out small breaths with each movement after the pain eases again. He has to pause with his undershirt halfway up his torso for so long that he decides to give up.  A part of him wishes he was alone. It would take less effort to keep his composure and not worry about inconveniencing anyone else by having to worry about him. It would also mean he would have more space to roll around and ease the strain on himself.

The other part, which is arguably much stronger,  craves contact with his pack after being among humans the whole day. 

To Dewdrop. 

He moves to his nest to position the other two properly, making sure they won‘t roll onto the floor while he and Dew get ready to join them. Both being too wriggly for their own good. A pillow here, trapping the hem of the blanket under a foot there. Smoothing his hands over their frames to remove the creasing.  He manages a kiss on Ifrit’s forehead before a tail curls around his middle and two hot hands pull him gently toward the bathroom. 

„I wasn‘t done. They….“

The little protest dies on his lips, snuffed out by the spade of Dew’s tail. His words. They‘re neither firm nor demanding, just matter of fact. 

„Nope. It’s Firefly time now“ 

And what his Firefly wants, his Firefly gets.

Fresh herbs fill his nose, prominently, lemon grass, chamomile, and rosemary and he recognizes the mixture. Aether can see the little linen bag floating in the tub, infusing the water with swirls of color. Greens and Yellows. Browns that dissolve into faint reds and pinks. 

He remembers the complimenting tincture that sits on the tiled shelf next to the bathtub and lists the ingredients of both in his mind. Epsom salt, Lavender, peppermint, sage, and thyme. Something ghoulish Mountain adds, to increase the effect of pain reduction and anti-inflammation for them.  Somehow that particular one slips his mind right now. His head filled with too many human words. He only knows that Dew loves the smell of it. Especially on either of their skin. 

Dew works on getting Aether‘s shirt off and stretches it enough to be able to pull it over his arms without the other ghoul having to move them too much. Leans in to kiss his collarbones, his pecs and tucks his face into his neck to breathe him in while he loosens Aether’s pants enough to give them and his boxers a little shove to let them pool around the tall ghoul's feet to step out of easily. 

„You don‘t have to do this“ 

Aether mirrors the gesture in a strange counterpoint to his words and drags his nose up the side of Dewdrops’s throat with a sigh, the tips of his tongue coming out to play too. Dewdrop shivers and he wishes they had the energy for more. 

„I know“

„I‘m just saying, you‘re tired. You should sleep“. 

„I don’t want to sleep“ 

With that, he runs his hands over Aether’s arms, the swollen hot joints in Dewdrop's fingers feeling like hot stones on his skin. He badly wants to sag forward into Dewdrop's embrace and get lost in his touch. He just doesn’t think he deserves it when Dewdrop’s in pain too. He should be the one helping him, he should….

Yet he sways forward just as Dewdrop’s hands slide higher and steal Aether’s glasses off of his nose, smiling oh so softly up at him. 

“I want you”

Aether has to try one more time for his own peace of mind. 

„But you‘re…“

„I haven‘t touched you all day and I am starved for it, that‘s what I am. So shut up. I’m taking care of you.”

Before Aether can react to the blatant vulnerability, Dew’s clothes join Aether‘s on the floor and he’s in the tub, making himself comfortable

He wriggles his finger at Aether when crooking it fails. „C‘mere“

It‘s clear what he wants. It‘s just one of those moments where Aether‘s too aware of his size, even after all these years. While he can work it most of the time, precise and proud, it feels impossible right now. If he slips, he might not be able to catch himself, and….He decidedly does not finish that thought, the potential outcome already looming humiliatingly at the edge of his mind. Paralyzing in its nature.

„Starlight….Stop thinking and get the fuck in“

The fond exasperation in Dewdrop’s voice makes Aether smile despite himself. He knows he‘s too deep in his head, overthinking things. Most of his positive thoughts blanketed by layers of doubts and insecurities, increased by his exhaustion. His own weakness projected on Dewdrop when he knows, he knows!, Dewdrop is far from it. 

And he really would love to be the little spoon if he’s being honest.

Carefully, Aether climbs into the tub and gingerly lowers himself between slender thighs, and instantly the heels of Dewdrop's hands press into the hardened areas on Aether’s back, nimble fingers loosening the knots and a clever tongue showering him with praises and encouragement. Peeling the dark layers back to let Dewdrop‘s light in, quieting the nasty voices in Aether’s mind.  The hot, infused water takes care of the rest. Relaxes muscles and nerves. 

He wants to sob with how loved he feels.

Aether doesn’t know when he snoozed off but wakes to Dew guiding him to lay back against his chest and starting to work on his front with one of those spiky massage balls. He feels floaty, the previous pain only an echo in his body now.  He tilts his head up, kissing along Dew’s jaw, with mumbles of „Thank you. ‘m sorry for fallin’ asleep“ and promises he’ll take care of him now until Dew can’t help but seek his lips out, shushing him effectively. 

The kiss is slow at first, lazy. It’s them catching up on what they had to miss out on during the day.  A well well-timed flick of tongue tips it over into heated and deep, small appreciative moans bouncing off of the tiles. Dew’s hands splay over Aether’s belly with a hint of claws, a touch that feels simultaneously claiming and grounding and Aether can’t help but cover them with his own and keep them there just before the kiss tapers off into a gentle slide of lips and happy purrs. Until it’s simply them breathing each other's air.  Twins of a smitten smile gracing their faces.

Then Dewdrop shifts, directing their attention to a different, but in Dewdrop’s opinion no less important matter. Aether quirks an eyebrow, a teasing smile on his lips. 

 „Guess you told me you’d pop something else for me”

When Aether cracks an eye open the next morning because he’s repeatedly jostled by something, it’s just in time to watch Ifrit and Phantom roll by like a tumbleweed in the desert. Wrestling or making out, he can’t quite tell.  In times like these, he curses having a nest as big as this. Dew yawns next to him, his lips finding Aether‘s warm, sleep-scented skin, kissing up a trail to his face. 

“Your kits are awake” Aether sighs, letting his eye fall closed again. If they notice that they're awake too it's over. Dew dares to raise his head to peer over the hem of the duvet, hums speculatively, and then burrows himself further into his spot.  

You taught me the courage of stars before you left How light carries on endlessly, even after death With shortness of breath You explained the infinite And how rare and beautiful it is to even exist I couldn't help but ask for you to say it all again I tried to write it down, but I could never find a pen I'd give anything to hear you say it one more time That the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes - Saturn- Sleeping at last (or, Dewdrop reminiscing about Aether)

Plants behaving badly: murder and mayhem is playing on the TV. The still ongoing consequence of a shared joint, Mountain lamenting the lack of variety in his collection of carnivorous plants, and a turned too serious debate about which ghoul is the most alike to any of the aforementioned plants. Mountain can‘t let shit like this go. He has to be right and he’ll present proof. 

Therefore, sometimes things that happen in the greenhouse don’t stay in the greenhouse. They occupy the common room in the ghoul wing. 

Mountain has their enormous pack blanket wrapped around them both, Dew‘s head resting partly in his armpit and halfway on a pec, his legs across Mountain‘s thighs. Mountain’s hand is absentmindedly rubbing over a weirdly raised stitch on Dew‘s knee. Courtesy of Dew taking care of rubbed-through fabric himself.  It’s actually kind of nice to feel the thread pressing into his skin. 

Dew’s only half listening to Mountain explaining why this is his favorite documentary about carnivorous plants and how it‘ll show Dew why he‘s right.  His attention is a mess on a good day. If he's not holding his guitar or praying, his memory is even worse. Now the weed does the rest to scatter his mind all over the place. 

Mountain squeezes Dew a little too hard when the sundew finally makes an appearance. It’s uncomfortable. Even so, it helps Dew to fully focus on the right now. „See? That’s you!“

Dew narrows his eyes at the screen. He still doesn’t see his point. „And I repeat, the fuck? How?“

„With your pre. It‘s like, extra thick. Little pearls all over the red tip of your dick when you get all needy. Smells and tastes delicious. It’s a ghoul mouth trap“, Mountain emphasizes with a gesture at the screen, a dopey weed-induced grin on his face, barely managing to duck his head away when Dew half-heartedly swats at him. 

„You‘re a fly then, the way you always buzz around me despite the threat of certain death, begging for a taste.“ 

A faint blush appears on Mountain‘s cheeks and his eyes drop down between Dew‘s thighs, licking his lips. Intention clear. His nostrils flare to see if he can catch that sweet scent. If Dew‘s in the mood to indulge him. 

There is- nothing.  Not a hint of arousal.   Not even Dew’s natural smokey aroma. Yet, he’s not disappointed. The fact that Dew is here with him, willingly allows himself some mundane enjoyment, already feels like so much. 

Even more so when Mountain thinks about how often Rain had gone to the cathedral to check on him throughout the last months, how Mountain had found him earlier, sleeping surprisingly peacefully in the pew after missing yet another meal. His prayer beads wrapped so tightly around his hand that the indents were still faintly shimmering on his skin now. And Mountain had had enough. He had scooped him up and carried him into the greenhouse where this whole thing had started and now; it almost feels like a usual night before their world had been tipped upside down again. Almost. 

It’s a silver lining. 

„If anything, I‘m a bee. I only go for the tasty shit and sleep with the prettiest of flowers“, he counters, so confidently with his flat chest puffing out and everything, it‘s making Dew snort. That‘s truly his earth ghoul right here.  

“I can’t tell if you’re calling me pretty or just want to fuck your plants”, Dew teases with feigned thoughtfulness, flicking his fingers against the space between Mountain‘s eyebrows. It earns him a light pinch in the thigh and a mumbled: “fuck you”.

When the earth ghoul looks up again, he expects another snarky come back but Dew sends him a look that is not quite regretful but close to it. Dew’s hand moves up to pet Mountain’s hair, using it to pull him down to peck his lips. 

„Not tonight.'' 

Those words should sound like a raincheck. What Mountain hears is an apology when there shouldn’t be one. His love for Dew is not tied to conditions like Dew sharing his body with him. Now less than ever.  He wishes he had the means to let Dew know somehow without making a big deal out of it, for the fire ghouls sake, when he feels a small red rose bloom at the bottom of his horn, coming to his aid. He nods and leans in for another peck. Turns it into a proper kiss because he can and Dew lets him.  

„Another time,“ he agrees and plucks the rose with a small wince, tucking it safely behind Dew‘s ear, “my pretty flower”. 

The gesture makes Dew frown up at Mountain, and for a split second, it seems like the next swatting is imminent. Mountain would endure that and more. What matters is that Dew knows he is loved. But it doesn’t happen. Dew just settles into his side again with a huff. 

Then the narrator moves on to another plant and the moment is over. „That Butterwort is Cumulus,“ Mountain states, in a tone that indicates he expects Dew to disagree again. Instead, Dew nods, agreeably, and even adds, „Aurora too.“

As soon as the credits roll, Dew untangles himself from Mountain’s arm and the blanket and slips to his feet, brushing his lips affectionately over the earth ghoul’s hairline and the base of his horns. His smile is weary when their eyes meet again.  

„Gonna hit the hay. Night, Evergreen“.

Mountain gives him a bewildered look but eagerly meets him halfway just the same when Dew moves in for a hug. It has Mountain holding him tighter than he probably should, his face tucked into Dew’s neck. He just missed this more than he had let himself think about and it feels too soon to lose it again. 

“Night, Lilypad. Don‘t let the bed bugs bite.”

He watches Dew walk out of the common room until he‘s out of the door and almost swallowed by the shadows in the hallway, his mind still mulling Dew’s words over. No one has called him Evergreen since….

Clarity hits him like a well-aimed sobering punch in the gut. The almost overwhelming feeling of nausea follows suit. It‘s here. The moment he dreaded, they all dreaded, may happen. In hindsight, the signs were blatant.  Dew not even trying to bargain with him about leaving the cathedral, the overly sudden surge in willingness to be social for such a long period of time when Dew had been shying away from it. All that combined with the missing natural scent, the most obvious one of them all, is unmistakable. A sure sign that fire ghouls are on the verge of leaving the physical plane of existence. 

All right in front of him. The very last one left from his old pack. Eventually, he will accept it as the honor that it is. Right now, he‘s reeling. 

He gives himself a mental shove and manages to call an „I love you. Sleep well“ after Dew just before he’s out of his sight.

Then his eyes turn back to the screen. Stares at it until his vision blurs. Stricken. Chest so tight he can barely breathe. His claws pierce through the thick fabric of his self-assigned greenhouse overall he hasn’t bothered to change out of yet. It takes all of his willpower to keep himself sitting on the couch right there, to not let his selfishness win to try to stop the inevitable. It’s not his right to interfere, if he even could, as painful as it is. As it will be, for a long time.

So he just sits there, helpless in his decision. 

A weeping willow. 

Dew ghosts through the corridors of the ministry, on a whim taking the long route to pass through the Ghouls' living quarters. The urge to hear their voices before he retreats to his hideaway is stronger than usual tonight. To lock another piece of each and every one of them once more into the respective places in his heart. 

There’s a thud behind one of the closed doors, followed by Swiss’ cackling. Aeon and Aurora complain about being bullied. That exasperated yet fond sigh? Cirrus. 

Rain‘s room is quiet except for the sound of running water. It draws Dew in so he pauses, lays both palms on the wooden door, and listens for a breath, maybe two. Sends a wave of affection Rain’s way before continuing his path. 

He can still hear Sunshine’s laughter, after their caused chaos went either according to plan or wonderfully wrong, when he passes her abandoned room, as faded in his memories as it is. He gives her door a little salute, not trusting himself to linger there. Knows that Cumulus finds solace in sitting in there for a while during this hour, singing to her lost ray of light. 

Treasures, all of them. 

He takes all of them up the stone stairs into the attic with him, the soles of his shoes scruffing over the sandy surface as he recites another prayer under his breath. As if to absolve himself for his absence in the pews. The beads around his neck feel heavier with each word, making him briefly consider turning around and visiting the cathedral for a second time today but he has to admit to himself that he wouldn’t be able to get far tonight. It’s late and the call of the stars promises a little more comfort.

Rain would be thrilled at that amount of self-reflection. 

The old oil lamp he grabbed on the way flickers as he lights up an incense stick with a press of his fingerpads, setting both up on the floor in front of him. 

After, he settles comfortably into Aether‘s old armchair, right in front of the window. Hidden amongst Aether’s other belongings that he couldn’t squirrel away into his own room, the stars in the night sky welcoming him back through the glass. One brighter than the others, brighter than Sirius he likes to think, his very own guiding light. 

Watching over him. Waiting for him. 

As he recounts the constellations to himself in soothing murmurs, he traces the scar on his palm, swallowing heavily when he reaches the end before lacing his fingers together. A sad imitation of what used to be Aether’s hand engulfing his. His mind shifts to the moments he had been curled in Aether‘s lap in this very chair and played idly with his hands. Twisting his rings up and down his fingers. Tickling his palm. Relishing in their size difference, their thrumming bond, and Aether’s pleased chuffs. At times, simply lost in sharing their respective tribes’ folklore, awed at each other's way with words. At others, well…

He needs it more than ever now. That certain kind of warmth. That fullness, first and foremost in his heart. 

He yearns for it with every fiber of his infernal being. 

To be home.

Dew sinks further into the chair and a forgotten sense of calm washes over him. No longer is that sob stuck behind his sternum that burned as hot as the unshed tears in his eyes. No longer does he feel the urge to fight it when his eyes fall shut on their own accord. Slowly. Unhurried.

The strange coldness, coming from deep down inside him and radiating through his bones like an ache, starts to dissolve. Imperceptible, his charred skin lightens and his scarred gills heal from the fire damage.  A gift of appreciation by the Prince for his unwavering devotion. Not only to the seven but to his mate as well. 

Unbidden, he remembers the last time Aether prepared morning soup for him, is sure he can taste the perfection on the back of his tongue, and for once it doesn’t twist his insides into knots. 

He is too tired. So very tired and giving in feels so right like nothing has for too long. 

His star in the sky flares up fleetingly, and Dewdrop smiles softly to himself, the first real smile in what seems like an eternity, when he feels familiar, weightless hands rest lovingly on his shoulders. His head tilts instinctively towards the touch, dipping slightly into the sun-faded brocade of the chair cushion beside him. The merest hint of Aether‘s scent, and the salt of tears still lingering in the fabric, fill his nose. 

His prayers are granted at last.

Above the stars, below the flames; finally reunited. 

The affirmation of love Dew hasn‘t uttered out loud since, leaves him with a long, blissful sigh. 

„I belong to you, my starlight“

Akin to a kiss, barely there, floats a caress over Dew’s lips, making good on a promise. 

“Oh, my Firefly….I adore you”

With his mate’s awaited response, Dew’s chest falls peacefully for the last time. The last glowing ember turns gray. His soul follows Aether’s into the night.