Soren (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silentsavant) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
middaeg2020-02-13 05:28 pm
silentsavant) wrote in middaeg2020-02-13 05:28 pm
Entry tags:
[closed]
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!)
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!)
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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! ]
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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. ]
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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 flirtingit 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!
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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... ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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. ]
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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. ]
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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. ]
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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!
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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—
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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. ]
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it feels like it takes forever to get there, and then it’s just gone too fast. eren need not to heave, but his nostrils do flair to keep the pacing of his breathing in proper speed with his heart. the cheek of his thigh burns from the grasp that had wanted everything from him, a pleasant and sweet sort of strike the dragon finds himself enjoying when his gaze casts sideways to see it. the clothes that were left, the grass and soot, it all blended with the distinct scent of cum and essence of recent sex.
finally, eren shuffles his hands away to squeeze what was left of him, in a shiver and final dribble between his fingers to finish the stroke curving up (and now beginning to soften). gaze, eventually, reaches soren in the undeniable chaos he’s left him in. was he dazed, in shock? did he give himself enough to process it all and was he well? the other dragon receives a bump from the wyvern’s talons, the curving harmless part bumping the flesh of his arm as if to cautiously check on him, and. . . ]
. . . Let’s clean you up.
[ soft, still deep, naturally gruff but aware and considerate. ]
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it's embarrassing to be seen in such vulnerable disarray after an unexpected bout of intimacy, a battle of dominance he'd lost control of, his muscles trembling, shredded clothes pooled around him, evidence of their smelly release streaked across his soiled and sooty body. his tangled bangs curtain his face as he hangs his head, unable to find words for this.
he doesn't have to. easier than that is to agree that he'd like to wash himself of this. he bobs his head like a boat rocked by a wave and shakily starts lifting himself from his elbows.]
...We... got sidetracked. [ ah, his clothes... they're not worth salvaging. he pinches a scrap between his nails and flicks it away, then starts peeling away what's left clinging to him. ] But I can't really say I didn't get practice in, either. Um...
[ thank you? sorry? he's not good at this... he's not even sure what in the world he's feeling right now. ]
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not about getting distracted, or the practice— eren’s chest still rises and falls with a blueberry sheen across glistening sweat and scales. a slither of his tongue pushes through the space between his teeth, and he asks, directly: ]
There’s a river nearby.
[ that’s what he’s trying to say, right? ]
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...I know.
[ it's not in a snappy way that he says that, just the way anyone would point out a true statement. he keeps his bare scaled arms crossed and eyes to the ground, wings shelled to his body, and lets eren lead the way even though he doesn't need a guide. his thoughts linger on the chaos of the minutes before as they make their way across the crisp and smoking wilde. a renewed curiosity takes the helm, much easier to focus on than the disbelief of having succumbed to such a powerful urge. ]
What was that equipment you had on earlier? The tight armor; the grappling hooks and the cables; the projectile weapon...
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eren had an abnormal way of thinking anyway, and while he'd probably bring it back up himself— it feels as casual as always. there was no rush to talk about it. ]
Gear from home, [ now compact into the amulet-like object he'd carried earlier on him. ] I had it modified into armor, here. There's a charm against the Cwyld in its metal.
[ in only a handful more of steps they should be near the bay's edge. there, eren kneels to cup his hands in for a simple amount, enough that the tattoos spiraling up his arm wings react with burning orange light to wherever seems best to preen himself. wetness protection. ]
Expensive, but something you can think about. [ he taps at his own scales. ] Especially if you're not above selling any scales that fall off.
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I see... You really are as adaptable as you say.
[ said like a simple remark, a reference to their first conversation about arms and wings, now applied further to encompass enchantments, armor, and gear. it's one of the best qualities anyone can have if they want to keep living. his gaze drifts away along the rippling surface, down to his own form.
he's always been adaptable himself, to adjust plans according to the ever-changing conditions of a battle, of a war, even. then there was the frequent instability of a life as a sellsword, and before then an orphaned child vying first to live, then to seek his reason to. but there's something about eren's capacity that he's sure he's been lacking. just looking at his own moon-warped body disgusts him, for example, in ways that probably never bothered eren all that much. the swollen contours of his finned arms, laced with orange markings of his own; stony plating; the extra layer of muscle supporting his ribcage; scales of three different solid hues... he runs a nail over a patchy still-healing part where water meets flesh, washing eren's dried blood into the stream along with other traces of his proximity. the idea that someone could be using these body parts he could barely accept on himself as fuel and currency, in much the same fashion as the rathmores had harvested scales and teeth and spines and blood and...
soren's focus goes glassy as he corks his thoughts right there. give them space and they'll consume.
eren has it right. reservations like that shouldn't stop him. if he really is a dragon these days, embracing his changes would serve him far better than falling back into the same patterns of scorning and resisting them. and should anyone use his scales for nefarious purposes, chances are it won't have anything to do with him, even if he can think of some spells that would.
he is in this world, and right now, nothing can change that. ten moons and no reprieve. all he has to do is survive and prepare, and having even more spending power almost always helps — as does finding more ways to defend against the agent that unmade geardagas's dragonkind.
he crouches further into the water, lets it envelop him up to his shoulders. he sounds thoughtful, if not a little more distant. ]
For Dragons like us, it's more than worth the investment.
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soren's a hot mess. oops. sorry, eren...
i'm so sad now