[closed]

[silentsavant]

Who: Soren and Eren. Seren. a serenade.
When: See date listed on threads.
Where: Training grounds; various.
What: A semi-permanent log for breath training and other interactions between these two.
Warnings: This log is on fire. (literally, since dragons. will update warnings as they arise. some nsfw?! oops!)

Comments

[silentsavant]

[ eren's powerful tail snaps into him at the same second his celestial breath erupts into the sky, burning into the treetops and searing branches loose. soren crashes into a brittle, moss-covered log and shatters the decomposing wood with the force of his body shooting into it like a comet with a bright tail. it fizzles out soon after that.

momentarily, he's stunned. but his body moves without need of his spinning mind, eager to retaliate. the teeming moons exert their influence upon him, a gravity he can't deny, a fight he couldn't resist even if it were better to, can't miss out on the pleasure of. banished from his thoughts are inanimate targets, thoughts of learning and tutelage. eren is the only target his blood rushes for. the rest is a blur of bark and dying leaves.

he bursts from the hole into a gargoyle crouch atop the old fallen tree, pupiless eyes tracking his challenger through the wilde. once he spots him, with a swishing, aggressive flick of his tail, he tries to shoot him down. while he's good at predicting where he will be when his blast hits, that's a matter of eyes alone: in practice, his attack is less precise. ]

[usurpers]

[ he knows, he knows, he knows he’s being sent back and that’s not good. eren attempts to staple his distance at that, at maximum, moving from side to side, through the plantlife and even lower, but not backwards. he can’t risk losing the distance he’s gained.

it was time to step things up another notch. in a general way, eren had wanted to win, of course, but what else burns harsher in his chest is what the moons instigate: this is your domain. these are your rules and no greenhorn would dominate so easily. soren may be trigger happy and found his strong point, but eren too, had an idea. he just couldn’t lose his head. remain sharp and calculate. he was no longer eager to rush into danger’s plan with a plausible tactic. it’s to this that eren adapts, shooting out of hiding and showing himself in full. an attack would have him move, only to show up again. and again! and again.

if getting close to him was too risky, he’d exhaust his breath sac first. the target had been lost in his thoughts; now he only has one to put in its place. ]

[silentsavant]

[ he just keeps missing, missing, missing... soren can't fire in succession nearly as fast as he would like, each time requiring a draw of preparatory air. every time he misses, eren gains ground. it's frustrating. he can't go on at this rate forever.

soren's battle instincts aren't honed for close combat as well as they are for longer ranges. he's always been a mage: cast spells from a safe distance whenever possible, for if the enemy cleaves an axe into him or rams a lance through him, his frail body would take a heavy toll. that is why when the dark and draconic form of his opponent lunges too close for comfort, that familiar guardedness forces him to shift gears from attacking to avoiding. he'd needed to be agile just to survive enemies who close in like this. that is why when eren thinks he has him, when just enough distance has been closed, he tumbles backwards off the great fallen tree and lets eren grasp at air.

but as he falls to the forest floor, he's ready to send another blast up at where eren will most likely emerge. he's never used so much breath in one go before. eren was right: he's tiring out. ]

[usurpers]

[ interesting opposite end spectrums. eren thrives in close quarters and found his temper drawn to light when soren flees, the same way he flees soren. a game of cat and mouse, this was. a game of patience and design, both of which the had in different aspects of combat. eren reminds himself of the warhammer titan, a fuss and a troublesome opponent to defeat with such long range capabilities, and even with a formidable defense— every single one had its hole. he just had to find it, the same way with ms. tybur. her fluids are far down eren’s throat by now, consumed at the second of defeat and a burst of victory.

had he the mind to eat soren? perhaps without a bond, he would’ve harbored the thought and leaped for it. today and hopefully for the rest of his days, he only wants to pin him down. the last burst of radiated breath comes weaker. gotcha, eren’s thoughts say, latching onto the tactic and continuing the run with it. with another disappearance into underbrush, a crack sounds, like bone breaking off its frame. something slings towards soren’s front, a little more to the right, at an alarming speed and complete lack of constrain.

it’s not eren, if he could send it on its way. it’s a log, and a decoy. ]

[silentsavant]

[ you can eat soren's ass instead!!!!

the crackle resounding off the trees alerts him that something is amiss, forces him to pay attention, and he finds out swiftly enough. the projectile soars through the air at breakneck speed. the sense of what's really happening clicks quickly in his brain. he dodges to the left. the broken tree shatters a good section of the fallen one.

he can't keep firing indiscriminately in hopes that he will eventually luck out and hit his target. his mind isn't as sharp and calculating as it could be beneath this torrential drive to attack, just attack! but he can still work out quite a bit, certainly that much. he knows he doesn't have to be restricted by just his waning breath. and he knows eren knows it's petering out.

but let him think that's the only trick up his sleeves. let him think he's wearier, weaker than he is. let him think he's dogged and determined to keep using it until he can earn just that rush of success that comes with landing even one hit. he snarls in a show of fury and razes the whole row of trees surrounding the approximate location eren should be, given the sound and the throw's origin and the trace of his scent. the wilde groans and snaps in cacophonous harmony as the trees bow to his might.

it's possible he can flush him out this way. but it is oddly satisfying just to destroy.

[usurpers]

[ it was— in fact, eren bursts out of the forest’s way, finishing breaking some of the remaining trees in that hadn’t bent. it’s . . . rather disgusting, as his own talons pull and tear away the human husk too small for the dragon shape to grow. the neck elongates his bones, stretches his hide and ripples with scales in larger quantity than on a mostly human frame. everywhere, top to bottom. thorns compliment his wings, rips his limbs apart until they stretch out of their former proportion, blood spews and bone cracks until his size is at its medium, until his skeletal maw breaks wide to throw fire in a much larger vicinity.

the dragon shrieks something awful, like metal wailing against sharp knives, as flames and molten saliva spews from his jaws to the ground. he hadn’t gotten close enough to take him down physically, and at this rate it would take more time— time that would thin his own stamina. the sisters aid him in waning his patience far too thin. he’d end this, he’d pay for putting a really good fight and being absolutely troubling at best. it makes his veins heat up so high they felt like they could melt just like the brilliant cracks of lava from his throat to his belly, and never so quickly had he wanted an opponent under his weight.

not that he immediately thinks this in a less dominating way, but he definitely will eat soren’s ass. ]

[silentsavant]

[ his higher mind can't help but be passively perturbed by the grisly process of his transformation, the violence of erupting blood and peeling flesh and revealed bone like any scaled creature sheds, but far viler. how much more unpleasant it must be to be the one slipping out of his own skin. it's pure horror. a notion of fear cuts the air between them.

which works well for his act. the fire rages straight for him. even if he were to try harder to escape the wide berth of flames, he couldn't get away fast enough, especially when his flight capabilities are yet wanting. he moves to avoid the flames, hand diving for his wrist to clutch the spellstone wound around his wrist. he murmurs the invocation and holds up his semi-crossed arms like a last-ditch reaction to block the brunt of the breath from hitting his face; the jewelry disintegrates in his grip, and the blaze consumes him.

but he'd activated an energy-resistant barrier via magitech.

he darts through the flames and towards eren, repelling the heat like water slipping off plumage. the flames help to mask his advance. it's soren's turn to close the distance. he can't keep himself hidden for very long, and the barrier attenuates the longer it's seared into — especially by a dragon's breath. but he's secured himself just enough element of surprise that he could prepare himself for a much better vantage point.

the closer the target, the easier they are to hit.

you're mine now, revels soren, and he opens his mouth to burn his own breath past eren's.

the two forces collide. soren's line of cool blue radiance charges through eren's dying plume, causing it to flare up colorfully, explosively. if anything, eren was probably hit by his own exacerbated flames, not the brunt of soren's attack. it gains way, slows as it loses power against the other dragon's...

and then it stops.

because soren had miscalculated how much energy he had left to pull that off? well, that's certainly a factor worth considering... but also? he tripped over a root.

how embarrassing. down you go, soren, onto your face! ]

[usurpers]

[ that. was most embarrassing and very greenhorn. surprise fails when both energy and miscalculation depletes soren of a genuine advantage. his fire ceases and has charred everything in sight and circumference. through the ash, the dragon only reaches, reaches an arm and sprawls his extended digits to trap to boy’s body between his keen talons.

his tail rattles, slow and factious, to allow him the space of his skull and the body to be no more. his breath was hot as he spoke, smelled of putrid sulfur and black cinder, and from his flicking tongue came a rooted gnarl. ]

You‘re annoying.

[ the voice comes in a thick, spitting drawl; he had little of his cheeks to form entirely clean words, but enough to speak and be heard. it’s done, but eren rose above just barely. he’s even forgotten of the target somewhere out there, still.

too busy shaking the earth with his steps, letting his tongue dance over his catch and breathing on his formidable assailant. ]

[silentsavant]

[ soren groans from the exertion, the burn in his chest, the crash, and from wriggling beneath the claws that encase him. oh, great. just like that, one small opening, and he's trapped. what's most humiliating about such a slip-up is how it's not the kind of mistake he would expect himself to make here, but perhaps he had poured far too much focus into just getting even one shot that he'd forgotten how to run with those legs of his.

to be fair, they've changed, and so has his sense of balance. it still seems stupid, and his insufferable, embarrassing pride as a dragon wounded. and this is just getting gross now. ugh... ]

You're creepy.

[ how cute; they're flirting it comes out disgruntled and strained, very growly. he hasn't given up, putting up a fight beneath those talons to wrest free of him. he can't even flip over off his belly. rotting ash saturates his nostrils enough to taste, and it also tastes a bit like his defeat. that said, his full moon madness is in full tilt, and his senses haven't quite righted themselves. he's just an angry, spiteful lizard continuing to twist and jerk beneath another of his own kind, the primal urge to come out on top and pin him to the smoking earth, mark him still simmering beneath his scales, even more now that he feels the physical weight impress upon him. he tries flapping his wings, pushing up, thrashing his tail, anything to give himself an inch here. ]

Get... off!

[usurpers]

[ creepy was a new one, he’d expect the usual scorn, or the occasional empty flattery, but creepy-? he’s almost curious. eren’s jaws snap against each other and accent a flippant click (the way a human would with their tongue); his talons bury into wilde dirt and his words hiss out from the crevices of stained ash teeth and dripping with saliva— saliva that steams with heat the second it drips to grass. ]

On your watch, no. [ his words twine with snarling to lift one talon, just enough, to curl it against soren’s head, tip it up. it’s been ages since he’s fought another dragon, on full moon no less— one that gave him trouble, one that formidably opposed him and proved himself to be watchful of.

there was no training now, only territory breached and similar scalding to their equal tempers blown out of place. except eren, as the veteran, must show where he stands at times like these. he was not one to bend, or feel sympathy when what is his was his by right. soren feels hot, or had it been the flat space of his skull pressing against the other’s, eye to eye—? ] My space, my will.

[ freedom for all was romantic, and eren was not philanthropic enough to share it beyond his boundaries. not at home, and far less here. and maybe that had been some advice to take. ]

I don’t ask for my freedom, I take it. Remember that.

[ only then, would his talons uplift earth and shower the smaller with mineral and debris. ]

[silentsavant]

[ it's not a lesson soren needs to learn. there isn't an idealistic bone in his body, and while freedom had never been a value clutched so closely to his chest, he's too used to the way the world really works to harbor illusions that men and women are entitled to their freedoms. it's something they work for, sacrifice for, kill for. it can be bargained for, sweet-talked for, tricked into earning. asking for freedom is not completely worthless if the suggestions are calibrated efficiently.

but here, as eren uproots his claws from the soil after the unshifted dragon just demands with no clout to back it up, he just... gives it to him after asserting his dominance through snarls and teeth. and he doesn't understand where the feeling comes from, but that pisses him off even more if he had kept letting him struggle to exhaustion.

no. they're not done here.

had soren not been affected by his transformations, the moons, and the searing adrenaline of the fight, he would not have found any value in preserving something as worthless as his own pride. he never used to take any pleasure in combat. but his draconic blood surges, he's not quite himself anymore, warped by the various influences bearing upon his increasingly animalistic brain, and he longs to keep fighting until he can't. or... something else, something else scratching at his hindbrain that might satisfy the same itch. where that particular vein of carnal inspiration comes from he can't care to discern, but close-quarters contact he doesn't usually receive certainly doesn't help matters. his voice slithers out low and seething and verging on inhuman. ]

Then you won't mind if I demonstrate what you just taught me?

[ soren's wings flip out, the rocks and dirt and plants ricocheting back at eren. in the same move he twists and pounces, goes for the neck with a bite and a grip to throw him over so that he can come out on top, the muscles of his arms swelling enough to tear his sleeves, assisted by the sharp slate keratin plating that has erupted from each side of his clavicle. his strength is only mounting, pressurized by duress. ]

[usurpers]

[ eren’s neck, even in the beastly form of a dragon was thickly scarred, from a bola incident to another animal going for his throat when he was too young of a dragon to have the scales to protect him. armor is metallic and threatening for the teeth. the obsidian monster wastes little time in swiping at him fully, talons bare to curve into his shoulders, and with an uplift, on his hind legs and swinging his skull back— he drives his crystalline horns into the earth with a quaking upheaval. he does it again, blow after blow to throw a well meaning strike in and shake him off.

a popping snarl erupts from the dragon’s ashen teeth, his throat burning bright with iridescent heat but no stream of fire and lava to show for, yet. only the smell, acrid and smoggy, and the equal desire to fight without an end. it’s what he’s done since the day he was born.

the dragon’s rippling muscle slacks, steams— from tearing at it, soren would find that the body is becoming a husk without its puppeteer. the true eren rips himself out of wet flesh and bone the same way it grew around him. bare, with his armor pendant tossed and nothing to cover his skin beyond black scaling, his tail whips, shatters their grounds with a rattle and he bleeds the feeling of potency. of hotness.

of energy with nowhere to go but ahead. ]

[silentsavant]

[ soren gets no leverage, no blood, nothing of eren's. soon, even eren's body becomes none of eren's: just a shell of himself. the steam alerts him to the change taking place and he drops in alarm.

his jaws tingle and ache from digging into metal, his balance teeters from getting bucked. if soren were more centered with himself, had his clear mind, he would have been more rattled by the massive carcass doffed like a meat suit. the stench would have wrinkled his nose. but the pungent quality mingles with something else in the air, something sharp and irresistible that hits him hard in the gut. and then he's punched again by the sight of him bared: the attractive luster of his scales, the hard slopes of his muscles, the thump of his tail reverberating through the earth and through him, a primal shockwave. that tail action works him up in more ways than one.

disoriented though he may still be, he does not submit. he postures, the crimson fins on his forearms fanning out, his wings unfolding to make himself look even bigger against the dragon almost two feet taller than him. look!! he not small, he big!!! he shows his teeth, the new dewlap he sprouted fanning out in aggression, his eyes glow like fanned flames, and his long tail waves back and forth sinuously, jerking every now and then, the spines at the tip sticking straight out. daring him to come near. he sends a chemical message, too. paraphrased for lizardbrains:

henlo lizer. helllo you STINKY LIZARD u want sum fuk??? FITE ME

mixed signals?? no! he's an aggressive, horny lizard, and they can't BOTH dominate! speaking of FITE, soren takes a flying lunge at him, claws extended and teeth ready to strike any perceived weak point he can manage on the exposed dragon, ideally to bowl him over or get a good grapple on him. and his neck looks more biteable than ever... ]

[usurpers]

[ relay message: what if

which rather meant: memo received, agreed and improved. eren’s nape, just below the bone that connected his skull to his spine was a brilliant, brilliant orange underneath the gnarl of his hair and the webbed dorsal fins of his vertebrae. a weak point that bore the thicker lines of scars, but not left unguarded. close quarters combat was his specialty, and if anything— the way he carelessly swings his taloned wing was meant to be the tempting feint of a “sucker punch”. in no clear mind to keep up with the rules of combat (arms up, guarding the head, stance helpful), his grace is animalistic at worst, smart at best.

eren ducks into a clinch, receiving the year of claws with a rushing hiss that spewed more adrenaline than care, scales a blast of radiant sunset colors and wanting, very much, for the space between them to be none.

he wants him on the ground, belly up, and would relinquish his targeted areas in exchange for the toppling taste of victory. ]

[silentsavant]

[ they are speaking the same language now. soren's instincts lock more securely into this urge, the tight heat expanding in his loins. he's never felt it so strongly like this and targeted toward another body before. he's too feral to be shocked by himself. this is natural. he wants it, wants him.

he's wrapped up into the clinch as his teeth sink into his neck, his claws score his bicep down the membrane of his wings. the flaring eventide hues at the corner of his eye impress him as much as they incense him — how dare he be so fit, so beautiful? the dragon he wants to mate with the same as the one he competes with. he fails to break any skin at first, so he quickly readjusts his bite over a weaker spot where the scales aren't so tough. not his nape, though. he can't reach that from this angle. (it would be nice to claim, though, as he forces him down and mounts him... though their size difference would make that particular configuration very difficult to achieve.) his teeth have sharpened since the moons, since he started fighting, and the force of his jaw breaks for blood.

his mind reels.

and then he's hurled to the ground, right where his opponent wanted him. trapped, just at the perfect moment when the piercing desire for freedom surges within like a white-hot blaze. his throat unleashes an unearthly, screeching roar, spines erupting from his vertebrae back-to-tail and staking through his clothes, the earth below, as well as eren's arms. he writhes in his clutch and bites, beats his wings in vain, his own squirming beneath him kindling his arousal further. ]

[usurpers]

[ he’s got him. it didn’t matter how wet the spot on his neck had become or the trickling sting the puncture at the contour of the base of his ear and jaw bled, he’s got him. the smell and taste of arousal was an incessant cycle to be feeding off of. what surged in soren billowed through eren, then right back to the dragon his talons have clutched enough to pierce both shoulders. the contest is harsh and thrashing once eren (after outrageous effort, truly) mounts the other monster by the hips, thighs buckling down to bond him from dislodging.

the pressure he exerts is intentional, legs spread enough for his hardening, exposed erection to meet with the clothed lump soren bore underneath. contact made his tail wave, his cock tug and his balls, his abdomen, every carved muscle tighten. their chests only don’t squeeze closed by the force his arm wings applied to flesh, scale and earth. his voice comes as deep gnarr that sears with the fever of conflict, hovering nose to nose and breath to breath: ]

Don’t stop moving— [ he didn’t want the catch of the night to stop right there into a rag doll— he wanted every bit of life soren has allowed himself to pour, and to match the bite received, eren gives: a bite that starts under the neck, closer to the chin, harshly and fervently drags up to the opposing dragon’s lower lip until he catches it between fangs and pulls down. ]

[silentsavant]

[ soren's writhing body is the very essence of life itself: of struggle, of determination, of desire. ruby eyes scintillate like licking flames, his throat crawls with rumblings of dispute and shrieks of rapaciousness stoked ever brighter beneath his conqueror and now his mate.

the hard slide of eren's readiness against his own sensitive and everted protrusion drives a primal shockwave through soren's system that drags a particularly feral gnarl screaming from the bottom of his lungs, and along with his own flexing and arcing form, that erect, muscular appendage sports a life of its own, twisting and convulsing within the dampening confines of tight trousers as though spurred to wrest control over eren's, even from beneath. he soars to an echelon of burning hot pleasure he's never experienced before. oh, what he longs to feel now. his daggerlike nails dig, rake, and clench his adversary in intermittent and contradictory bids to push him away and to cinch him more securely to the spot, and in this instance they dig. but any amount of constraint, however insignificant, inflicts madness upon soren, so much so that the simple barrier of clothes becomes the target of his sharpened digits. his claws scale the solid peaks of eren's abdomen to his waistband and the shred of fibers breaks the smoldering air as he revels in the satisfaction of this small dose of freedom.

his tail thrashes like a viper and coils around eren's like a constrictor, seizing it, blurring the lines between captor and captive as he ruts feverishly against the larger male's shaft while scarcely needing his hips to do so. being able to directly run himself along the hard, tantalizing expanse of subtle ridges and tease him with his own textures trumps the mere suggestion of it, and soren groans like a shameless animal. ]

[usurpers]

[ they had to get the rest off and while they had all the time in the world, patience had been a hurdle eren could do without. both of them could in the way a curling moan entraps the larger dragon with a wonderful, buzzing rize of heat from beneath the flesh that made his groin. talons hook to drag down, snare what was left of fabric that caged his new mate. freedom had a purpose and eren hoarded every aspect of that symbolism until he felt high— ripped and torn from the other’s legs, he didn’t care whether they flopped close to his thighs or discarded around the ankles. it was gone enough for crisp air to hit soren’s pleading cock to eren’s own.

he’s audacious with his friction, blinded by its euphoria as it wrecked his loins with fervor. hard and thick had also been the voice that seeped from his fangs, loud and brazen to the side of the other dragon’s ear. his earlobe, then, had been as tempting as leaving marks on his lips, so there he went. the tip of eren’s tail rattles violently, loops around the other’s coil until fuck that blur, the blue of an inverted scale being coated and pressured. he can feel his eyes nearly to heavy to keep open as his body surges.

to keep the edge, he goes bold, searching rather desperately until he had the other’s dick pressed into his palm and balls at his fingertips. eren grabs, with breaths skipping, and strokes it thickly against the bumps of his abdomen until it grazed his shaft. ]

[silentsavant]

[ as it turns out, there are no gonads to grab, nowhere outside of the smaller reptile's body, at any rate. what he may discover instead upon a downstroke is the very base of soren's glistening rose-red cock is a slim opening that could give way if pushed, slick like the dick that emerged from there is. he's very much not human here anymore, his nether regions more of a cloacal configuration.

but the dragon falls in love with the rhythm of his hand even when it's too much and the intimate tactile reminder of eren's well-sculpted physique against him there, something he'd never known how much he could be attracted to before these moments. it flushes the air from his lungs, makes his flexible cock pulse and squirm elatedly in his grip, sends his arms over his waist to scale in desperate grabby hooks up his back like he might fall off the ride if he can't hold on. his tail wrestles his down indignantly, squeezes the length he has seized and applies yet more pressure to the sweet spot of eren's he's unaware he has claimed. what he is aware of is how the panting breaths hot on his ear hitch, of the resounding whispers that assure him his desperation for soren is climbing just as much as his for eren. pressure builds. all he wants to do is burst, be released from this. a guttural, squeaky half-human moan leaves his throat as his partner pierces his soft pointed ear with his teeth, sharp pain whetting the unforgivable pleasure to an incredible dimension. ]

Ah, [ he sucks in a gasp, ] c-curse you, you...!

[ he can barely think like this. and for once? it's wonderful. ]

[usurpers]

Doesn’t— [ ah— ah, fuck, ] look like it, [ eren might as well be the devil. had it been the changes of the moon or had soren always been this way—? questions that would arise if time felt plentiful are crammed out of the way; what he was doing, or what he continued to do has soren in a recognizable quiver, one that eren chooses to look upon, eye contact to eye contact (intimate, that was, but eren hardly averted his gaze when his focus was prominent). as the first wave subsided into an anticipating seethe (it would come again, he knew it would come again when he angles his tail in a prepared slant against a twist to grind them perhaps more than just his dribbling cock). ] What’s— [ a breath. he’s losing it. ] What’s better?

[ what feels better, he means, having a dominant hand in the situation but not so completely selfish in having the pleasure exclusively to himself. all partners, when it came to eren, had to have one thing in common— and that was mutual enjoyment. they can have it their way, too, and tentatively, nose close to nose to have a better glimpse at the way his expression contorts, eren takes the shaft in his hand from its base, adding a bend to his wrist when stroking upwards to cause a slim twisting effect as fingers swiftly pressed together once he reached what he’d consider the head.

there’s that, and there’s the other way— one that required eren to angle his arousal to soren’s enough for a close proximity of length to length— and soothe them both at once. either way it went was another choke and heavy dip into rapture. no other thoughts disturbed him but this, the pressure in his groin, his tail, and the bountiful swelter he shared with one more dragon. ]

[silentsavant]

[ green eyes plunging into red shine a spotlight on the humanity consumed by his eclipse into monsterhood, his full-mind surrender to a full-body liberation. eren's voice, or rather the words that are carried on it, draw him a little closer to the surface where a sliver of surprise can dawn on him, clarified out of the confusion that first struck: what's better? better than what? why ask, why look at him with their noses nestled like this as he does so? like they're two people making love and not a pair of reptiles struggling in the ashen dirt and smoldering wilde to mate? this abrupt tilt of reality twists him up inside and he wants to withdraw any trace of his personhood, draw the gates over this psychological intrusion and retreat, though he doesn't know where he'd go.

he feels his vulnerability then, a hot chill razing his spine. at a loss when his unexpected first partner indicates that he's interested in reaching his pleasure, too, when all along he thought he'd been ravishing him to his own ends. he'd been fine with that; he had been getting something out of what eren got from him, good at understanding the simple scale of give and take. soren's heart rebels within his ribcage, his tail laced with the other dragon's squeezing enthusiastically, greedy for the reminder that they're just animals right now and ohh, he feels good right there, right there, right there! ]

There—! [ it comes out like a hiccup, and he doesn't know exactly where when he blurts there but every stroke of them sends him higher, higher until he's afraid he might never come down and he throws his arms around his neck, digs and presses his eyes shut and his forehead to eren's, angles his hips like a beggar lifts his hands for his needs. it's hypnotic, nerve-searing... he growls. ] Mm, there, there... I don't, can't think, what's better than this... just keep doing it.

[ he nips his ear to drive his insistence... and as payback. ]

[usurpers]

[ he knows what to do, then. it had been a question doubled in answer when hip meets hand and eren’s shoulders hoist the weight ringing across the basis of his neck. all broad and cleanly carven as the rest of him. his dorsal spines erect and flatten with each pulse, the scales plating finely pointed ears shine bright red and flick flick flick at the lobe being pulled and bitten. a sharp growl to continue becomes an open-jawed purr, extended and drumming as his tongue dances over the contour soren’s jaw makes up to the edge of his own earlobe, wet and marked, to the round of his chin and how exposed his neck was, his belly . . . ]

Alright, [ he’d want to leave the signs that he was there and explored everything first. as soren scented of deprived reptile, as much as he— it tasted fresh. it tasted new and awoken. eren’s free hand presses down against the other’s pectoral and allows his thumb and talon to dig at the small cleave the middle of his chest would make, down to his abdomen. his head begins to dip, raising his horns, but descending his forked tongue— deliberately slow to catch the glance up. eren hadn’t been still; he was heaving, the muscle lining his ribs explanded and contracted as if in flight, and his eyes, while an emerald flame, was misty and crass. he didn’t care what was exposed of himself, here: it’s alright, for soren to see. there wasn’t much beyond a turbulent mess that had more worries to hang over. ] don’t hold back.

[ another smaller surge from his tail traps eren into third flight of ascending steps, inciting the methodical strokes to the other dragon’s sex to escalate, climbing in speed as the older dragon’s thighs contract, and roll, with all the soaked friction he could receive out of frotting onto the cock he pleasures. ]

[silentsavant]

[ ragged moans swell in eren's ear through bared teeth and breathlessness before he leaves for lower territory, a throaty reverberation laced with his otherwise smooth voice and rocked by exhilaration. he watches him descend down the subtle contours of his hard chest, a chest which has expanded with lunar force, covered by sandy scales that give him an almost out-of-body experience to behold as this unfolds, like his partner is pleasuring someone else and he's trapped inside of a misshapen travesty of dragon tribe royalty. it's good that the shock of blue, the sensation of creeping tongue and the intrigue of its shape different from his distracts him; he squirms as it embarks upon softer, human flesh at the abdomen. his muscles tighten in response, breaths flutter as he tries to keep what laughter leaks through moans at bay. ]

Ah, ahahah, ah...

[ he doesn't have it in him to be too embarrassed, and by the end of it that stint of self-restraint vanished like smoke, especially when eren escalates the motions that press his hardness to his and wrap them in a friction that pitches his moans to a more frantic and exultant octave. his body doesn't know how to handle itself against another's touch like this, a work of tension and spasms as a wrist flings to his mouth, crimson fin blocking the way he cranes his head back like a draping sleeve, and the other hand seizes eren's horn for want of something to hold onto. he spreads his legs and cants his hips forth and the flexible swell of his monstrous cock reveals its love of eren's by curling its spade-shaped head loosely around his like it has a life of its own, tightly and helplessly rutting against his hard length and the generous hand, a weaker, a much less vigorous imitation of how their tails squeeze and knot.

he's positive he's never known anything like this, never entered a state of such ruinous rapture before. from this height, how could he want to fall back down to the cold and dismal march of his life here? his vision keeps flashing and colliding with stars. he can tell he's not long for the end.

he finds himself increasingly at odds: he wants to end this as much as he never wants this to end. and in his confusion, in his desperation, as though in godless worship he reinforces his grip around that curved icy gem of a horn and snarls the name of the devil undoing him for lack of any other thought. ]

E-Eren!

[usurpers]

[ between that threshold of wanting to finish and wanting to continue would have to be a constant, even cruel cycle amidst two flaring ruts— eren has begun to slip into a point of desperation to reach his highest point, a climb that had exposed to him the wonderful peak in sights and within reach but simply not enough for the attrition he loaded.

then something slicks a hug around his cock’s head, just above the first bumpy ridge down his length and seizes eren’s frame into a surprised arch, a barked gasp and a thickening snarl that tapers into a draconic shrill. the strokes he gives in turn are vigorous, a twin action to the fleeting cry of his name: don’t stop was every and all indication, encouragement that evaporated off sweet precum and desirous pheromone. eren’s hips rock into the tender hold he gains just as his hand does to keep a now frantic rhythm around such an exotic arousal.

he’s so close that he goes blind with heat spell, smell, taste and revelry for sex. now that he’s found a spot for both of them, the untamed, barbaric race for ecstasy sleets their mating ground with one end. he’s so close that the hotness, the pressure, it’s all begging to burst. ]

Go on—

[silentsavant]

[ soren's frantic. he needs more, whatever this 'more' is and his body registers it as more fuel to feed the epicenter of where the pleasure between them contracts and spreads. that grip on eren's horn tightens furiously, his other hand making a greedy, thoughtless grab for his haunch, appealingly firm and flexing as it crashes into him over and over again, and pushes their hips closer together, for their carnal chemistry cannot be stoked enough.

his body feels like a hot and electric prison that squeezes his spirit, presses it into a claustrophobic corner against someone else where he has no choice but to succumb to the white flames of mutual passion. whether it's a form of suffering or a form of bliss is a blurred issue. he never wanted to be touched, but oh, how he needs it now, the only way to reclaim the personal distance he has always sought with strangers to bring him in close. in the end, it doesn't matter: his spirit makes a break to slip right through and escape the multitude of sensations that beset him. the air itself resonates with the unearthly cry he unleashes as he rides his climax.

if he had any whites left in his eyes, they would be rolling. he throws his head and stakes the mussed dirt with his horns. his muscles contract: tail; abdomen; thighs; cock: which creams all over eren's and, with the pump and slide of his hand and their sexes, coats their joining in his messy release, but not without splattering torsos and shredded clothes. for now, he knows no shame. he continues to warble his raspy chorus of ecstasy as the peals of orgasm ripple through him. and very soon after he spends this, he will fall limp and dazed as the fever comes down and what happened all sets in. ]