#mountdew

Its a perfect late afternoon, Mountain thinks. He’d managed to finish his work in the greenhouse earlier than expected and he got to watch the start of the sunset as he was locking things up. On his way back to the ghoul wing, he got to watch some of the ministry children play in the courtyard– hopscotch is what they said when he had wandered over and asked. As he weaved through the hallways, a nice cool breeze followed and carried with it, the decadent smell of Aether’s workings in the kitchen. It was all peaceful, and it was some much needed calm.

But what really tops the cake for Mountain is what’s waiting for him just atop his nest. He cracks his door open to see the new water ghoul leaning against his pile of furs and cushions with a book in his hands. He recognizes it almost immediately– a hardbound edition of Metamorphoses by Ovid. Dew looks up at the earth ghoul and his face warms with a smile. 

The two had gotten very accustomed to each other in the months since Dew’s summoning. The way their elements entwined made things easier– they just both got each other. They knew how to coexist together in perfect harmony and neither could be happier. Where things changed was during one stormy night, a mere few weeks since Dew had come topside.

Mountain had peered into Dew’s room that night after he heard small whimpers. He saw Dew’s skin, slick with sweat and he felt so hot he was almost burning. When Dew moaned as Mountain’s fingers met his skin, Mountain knew what was happening. He helped him through that night, his first heat. He held him close to his chest as he buried himself deep. He listened closely to each moan and each high pitched whine whenever he prodded at that special spot that made Dew see stars. Everything from that night is burned so deeply into his mind– and he wants to give Dew more. He’d give Dew his heart if he could.

“Where are you at now?” Mountain asks as he rids himself of his work clothes, stripping down to his boxers and a white sleep shirt. 

“Im just about through Orpheus and Eurydice.” He watches Mountain pad over as he sets the book down on the bedside table. The earth ghoul continues his stride until he’s crawling towards Dew. He straddles a pair of spindly thighs and reaches forward to cradle Dew’s cheeks in his hands. He places a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“What do you think of it?” He brings their lips together, this time for a real kiss, not actually giving Dew any time to answer. His tongue slips in past Dew’s lips and he swallows the moan that rumbles from Dew’s chest. He pulls himself back from Dew to get a good look at his puffy lips and flushed cheeks. It takes Dew a second to remember that Mountain had asked him a question. 

“He really loves her,” He says, breathless. “Really, really loves her.” He knows that it sounds juvenile, hell it even feels that way too, but Dew can't find any other word to describe it. Orpheus loved Eurydice so much, enough to descend into the underworld for her. His love was so grand, so intense that it swayed gods. It was impossible for Dew to even describe a fraction of that with mortal words, they just wouldn't do it any justice. 

“Yeah he does droplet.” Mountain punctuates his words with carefully placed kisses right over Dew’s eyelids. Then his nose. Then the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He keeps going, doing his best to touch his lips to every atom that makes up his love. 

“Does he remind you of anyone?” There’s a joking tone to Mountain’s voice. Dew just gives him a nice hum. 

Of course he reminds me of someone Mount. He says the words to himself, lets them echo in his mind because he’s too nervous to speak them aloud. Instead, he crashes his lips back onto Mountain’s. He cant say it, but he’ll do his damn best to show it. He laps greedily against Mountain's mouth, pulling him impossibly closer. Dew drinks him down like he’s the first sip of water after 40 days and nights in the desert. 

There’s no retreat in his efforts, and soon enough Mountain feels like he’s actually stealing the breath from his lungs, unable to take a proper breath with the way Dew seems intent on consuming him. He taps Dew’s neck, and it's enough of a gesture that it seems to pull Dew back from the edge. 

Mountain takes in a few breaths to get his bearings before posing what should be some of the last coherent words of the evening. “Can I show you something?”

“Anything.” 

Mountain peels himself out of Dew’s lap and situates himself against the headboard. He watches the confused look plastered across Dew’s face as he pats his hand on his leg.

“C’mere.” Dew keeps the confused look but follows the request, facing Mountain and straddling his thigh. 

“You’ll tell me to stop if you don’t like it right?” In all of the moments they’ve shared like this, Mountain always asks.

“Always Mount. But what’re you talking about?” Dew knows that Mountain wouldn't do something to hurt him, but now knowing what awaits him has nerves twisting in his gut. 

“Just give it a sec hmm?” Mountain says as he cradles Dew’s face again, drifting his thumbs over the delicate skin. “I need you to drop your glamor for this love.” Dew obliges, releasing the hold he has on his magic, ridding himself of the near constant tension at the crown of his head. 

As he relaxes, the skin on his neck opens up to reveal his gills, glowing just like the bioluminescent swirls that paint the rest of his skin. His scales along his arms shimmer in the warm light of the sunset. The sight makes Mountain gasp. It's something truly special to witness Dew’s true form, and he savors it everytime. 

Dew watches as Mountain lets his hands drift to his waist and squeeze at them affectionately. He stares at how far his fingers reach– Mountain’s fingers could wrap around his whole body with no effort. But what really gets Dew going is the quickly growing tent in Mountain’s boxers. He grinds down against Mountain’s leg then, searching for some type of friction now that he has an idea of what’s in store for him. 

Mountain rocks Dew forward, making him lean flush to his chest. He brings a hand to the space between Dew’s bony shoulder blades and uses the grip to hold Dew close. His other hand laces itself into the soft, golden hair and tugs on it just enough to angle Dew’s face towards him. He gives one last kiss on the tip of Dew’s nose before tracing his finger down Dew’s spine. He feels each ridge and feels goosebumps form. He stops just above where a certain appendage juts out of their mortal vessels. 

“You ever touch yourself here droplet?” He asks as his large hand wraps around the base of Dew’s tail. Dew mumbles a quiet no, almost as if he was embarrassed. What a shame, he thinks, Dew should know every bodily delight, especially considering how sensitive these human bodies are. A twisted pride blooms in Mountain, another addition to his ego. Another first for Dew, at his own hands. 

“N– no,” Dew stutters, unable to pull in a full breath with the sudden fire coursing up his spine. “Fuck… that’s sensitive.”

“That it is bug.” This time, Mountain strokes it, starting at the base and gently tugging a few inches.  

“It turns out shoving hellbeast into human bodies lands us in some fun situations. Some wires get crossed when we drop our glamours, the body doesn't know what to do with our tails.” He speaks almost aimlessly as he continues to tug at Dew’s tail.

“I remember when Zephyr first had me like this, they were my first too.” This time, Mountain lets a finger drift to the underside of Dew’s tail, stroking at the space between it and his tight hole. That was Mountain’s own spot. Even the slightest touches sent him hurtling towards the edge. What’s the harm in trying it on Dew?

It turns out, there’s a lot of harm. Dew just about lights on fire as Mountain skims the rough pad of his finger against him. It's too much and not enough at the same time. His brain cries out for it to stop, but it begs for Mountain at even the slightest suggestion of him slowing down. 

“I was a little newer than you I think,” The gentle movement of his hand stills as he removes his finger and drags his thumb over the sensitive base instead. Dew feels like his face is about to melt off. He digs his head into Montain’s shoulder and exhales into the sturdy muscle. It doesn't work. He doesn't know how Mountain can stay this calm and collected as he falls apart in his lap. 

He tries to coach himself through the fog, tries to breathe through each slow brush of Mountain’s hand. It proves just as futile.

“That’s a good boy,” The praise doesn't really make sense to him, he isn't doing anything, or at least that's what he thinks. “Take what you need baby.”

He realizes he’s been unknowingly grinding his still clothed cunt over Mountain’s thigh, coating it in slick that he’s sure is making a wet spot on the bed below. Mountain has been able to feel each twitch of Dew’s cock against him and it's done nothing but spur him on. It's almost become a mission to him, to pick Dew apart until he’s a bumbling mess. 

“Mount, you gotta… wait. Fuck, hold on” Dew contests. He doesnt know how much longer he can last.

“Are you sure?” Dew knows how to make this stop, he knows exactly what word to say to get Mountain’s hands off of him. 

“-yes. N–no. I dont know.” Dew sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, but Mountain knows they’ll be good ones. “Can I cum Mounty? Please?” 

Mountain feels his heart bloom at the request. He weaves his free hand into the hair on the back of Dew’s head and runs his nails over his scalp, scratching at that spot that calms Dew down during thunderstorms and bad bus rides and turbulent flights. He comforts him, because what’s about to happen is going to hit him like a truck.

“Of course my love,” He thinks he’s more excited about this than Dew is, he’s always excited when he gets to make his siren feel good. 

Mountain holds him to his chest tight, and spurs on each roll of his hips with a stream of ‘good boy’ and ‘there you go’  whispered against his temple. 

“Get me nice and messy droplet, whenever you’re ready.” It doesnt take much more for Dew to tumble off the high cliff of his pleasure. One soft brush of Mountain’s finger against the underside of his tail has him cumming silently as he keeps rutting against Mountain’s thigh. To drive it home, Mountain wraps his hand around the base of his tail one last time and squeezes softly, just until he feels a wet gush against his leg. 

“So good for me Dew, you did so well.” He whispers his praise as he pries his hands away from the now sensitive muscle and brings it up to Dew’s lower back. He feels each twitch of the small body on him, each jerk as his body works through the earth shattering orgasm. Underneath it all, he can feel the gentle rumbling of Dew purring.

Dew doesn't know how to express himself after that, and even if he could, the words wouldn't come out how he wanted them to. 

“That… was. Mount, that–”

“I know.” Mountain says it so matter-of-factly that if he wasnt spreading gentle touches across Dew, he’d think that he was bored. 

“You?” Dew asks. ‘What about you?’ is what he means to ask, but the words get lost between his brain and his lips.

Mountain chuckles at the fact that the first thing Dew does is ask about him. He always wants to check on everyone else, he wants to make sure they’re taken care of. Even if it means that sometimes, he’s set on the backburner, letting himself be burned by the flames. 

“Im fine Dew.” Mountain insists, hoping its enough to convince Dew to relax for once. Stubborn as he is, the water ghoul doesnt let up. He musters up some strength, just enough to angle his head so that he’s almost face to face with Mountain. 

“Let me help Mount, you didnt….” The worry that drips from his words makes Mountain’s heart swell. The love they have for eachother knows no bounds. 

Mountain let out a thick cloud of smoke, placing the bong back on the table and sinking into the couch. Planet Earth playing on the TV in front of him, it’s the perfect Saturday. He finished his chores and is just killing time until he needs to pack for the upcoming tour. The plane ride will be long and boring but something exciting builds at the thought of playing in a new city every other night with his bandmates.

A knock on the door disrupts the calm aura surrounding him, and he gets up to answer it, spraying a light dusting of Febreze to mask the smell as he walks towards the door of his room.

“Hey man,” He greets the blond before him as Mountain gestures for him to enter. Dew walks in, dropping his jacket on the ground like he lives there before slumping onto the couch. In all honesty Dew could be a co-inhabitant of the room. Mountain’s room is usually his own personal sanctuary, but the amount of nights Dew’s spent here would make up for more than half the year. 

“I’m pretty sure I set fire to a priceless heirloom,” Dew says, packing some bud into the pipe and taking a deep inhale, only coughing slightly upon release. Mountain takes back his own seat and levels Dew with a glare.

“What do you mean you’re pretty sure?” Mountain pesters, taking the pipe from Dew, who shrugs in response. He’d spent the last few weeks of Dew’s previous punishment to help him with his temper. Mountain’s an emotion regulation enthusiast and thought he was making progress with the fire ghoul. They would sit for hours and go over how to gauge his feelings, and when to take a step back. Dew had a hard time voicing his feelings, but they’d had a breakthrough when Mountain had compared his anger level to that of a flame. Dull red was the base, the ideal so to speak. Dew lived around an orange; a simmering level of frustration nearly always present. They’d worked hard to decipher that if his rage reached a bright yellow then he needed to remove himself from the situation before it escalated further. 

“I blanked on what do when I hit yellow, I got distracted while we were practicing.” Dew mumbles, accepting the paper Mountain hands him and starts rolling a joint.

“What do you mean you got distracted? It was just us going over different scenarios and solutions.” Mountain chides, bumping Dew’s shoulder with his own. He reaches for the remote and turns the tv down a bit, so they can talk without shouting over David Attenborough’s narration. 

“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory then,” Dew says, licking a stripe along the paper to activate the adhesive. “You’re pretty hot when you’re explaining feelings while smoking a blunt.” 

Mountain blushes, recalling just how into the discussion he had gotten. It also happened to be unseasonably hot the last month or so and he’d shed his shirt like any normal ghoul. 

“Am I only hot when I talk about emotions?” Mountain questions as he accepts the lit joint, taking a deep breath in and showing off slightly by blowing some O’s on the exhale. Dew’s eyes track the movement of his lips and throat as he continues the smoke trick until there’s no smoke left in his lungs. 

“Definitely not.”

“Am I turning you on right now?” 

“Maybe.”

Mountain smiles ruefully at the fire ghoul, licking his lips as he takes another deep inhale. This time, instead, he grabs Dew by the back of the neck and pushes their heads together, letting out the smoke directly into his mouth while applying slight pressure with his lips. Dew swallows the smoke and deepens the kiss, tangling their tongues together teasingly. 

As he pulls away Dew empties the smoke from his lungs, and it’s like the light’s changed from red to green and suddenly they are all over each other.

The joint lays abandoned on the rim of the ashtray as they both pull off their t-shirts, reconnecting after with bruising kisses and added gnashing of teeth. The speed is zero to sixty, no testing the waters just diving right into a cool abyss of touch. 

“I like you,” Dew admits as he pulls away, hands fumbling with Mountain’s pants. Mountain takes a deep breath, blood going straight to his cock at the confession.

“I’ve been dropping hints the last few months,” Mountain says, taking the pants situation into his own hands and shucking them to the ground where they belong. “I thought you were taken or just weren’t interested so I stopped trying.”

Dew guffaws, jumping up to undo his jeans but somehow in the heat of passion, he manages to trip over his own feet. 

He lands on the edge of the table, Mountain barely having enough time to grab the bong before everything goes flying across the room, the pipe smashing into pieces and the joint landing on top of Dew. He calmly picks it up and takes another hit, coughing out what turns into full-on laughter.

Mountain can’t help himself, joining in.

And suddenly, what was becoming a hot and heavy moment turns into the funniest shit Mountain’s experienced in a while. They sit there, laughing for a solid ten minutes, ignoring the huge mess and chunks of broken glass in favour of the hilarity of the situation.

Dew crawls over to the couch and sits between Mountain’s legs, passing the joint back and forth between them until nothing’s left but a tiny roach. 

“I didn’t expect me telling you I loved you ending up like this,” Dew says after they’ve watched another episode of Planet Earth. “Sexier, for sure, and maybe a little more romantic.”

“Wait, are you saying you love me?” Mountain stops, choking on his toke of the bong. The comment catches him off guard and the smoke doesn’t help, sending him into a coughing fit. Dew reaches up, and helpfully pats him on the back to try and clear his lungs. 

“I thought it was obvious.” 

“Saying ‘I love you’ isn’t obvious, you asshole. It’s something you need to actually say out loud.”