middaeg | August Quest Log and Catch-all [OPEN]

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August Quest Log and Catch-all [OPEN]

Who: Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) and you!
When: Throughout August
Where: Around and out of the city
What: Quests and other things
Warnings: One NSFW thread, warnings in headers

[ 1A. The Sly Seadog - do you want to cross that line? ]

[ Berserker is acting as a bouncer for this dive bar. Tall, intimidating, and visibly a dragon makes him a good fit for the role. It also tends to make people behave when they know they're dealing with someone like that. He, however, looks bored -- whether it be at the door or walking around the bar.

On a break, he decides to get a drink. Sitting at the bar, he has a pint of dark ale in front of him. Without looking over, he decides to make his feelings known. ]

If you so much as think about causing a problem, you'll regret it.

[ 1B. The Sly Seadog - are you talking to me? (cw: violence) ]

[ Alternatively, someone is causing trouble at the bar and Berserker is Not Here for that. The problem patron is hauled off their feet by their collar, the temporary bouncer's face unchanged. They fight and struggle against him, but the blows are brushed off like nothing and the verbal threats go ignored...Well, mostly. Tired of them screaming abuse about his status as a monster, Berserker headbutts them with a sickening crunch (his horns come in handy sometimes). It has the double effect of shutting them up and breaking their nose -- win, win really. He chucks them out the door and returns to his post. The scuffle silences the bar for a moment, but everyone soon settles back down now that the problem is solved.

It's only in the calm after the brief fight that he notices blood on his arm...and some on his face. Annoying. ]

Could you get me something to clean this up with?

[ 2. Surveillance - because it's a long way back from hell ]

[ Berserker sits at his assigned point in the cave. His vision in the dark isn't particularly great, but he can hear well enough to make up for it. He's not on edge, per se; he's more in tune with his combat and survival instincts than normal. Gae Bolg, his barbed lance, is held in his right hand as he listens for any movement in the darkness.

Unfortunately, what he turns to in the dark is not a Cwyld, but whoever else is down here. He turns with his spear pulled back to attack. ]

Say something. You have three seconds.

[ He's being generous. ]

[ 3. Fun in the sun (potentially nsfw) ]

[ Berserker is quite please the weather's warmed back up after the artificial winter. In fact, he's so pleased that he's decided to go sunbathing.

Nude.

He's at least sunning himself in fairly secluded areas or on rooftops that look abandoned, but anywhere there's a sunny patch and at least partial cover is a potential place to warm himself. Wherever he's decided on, he lays on his stomach with his arms crossed, head resting on his arms. His wings are stretched out and his tail at least partially covers his butt and legs. His clothes are nearby, too, so he can get dressed if he feels so inclined. Berserker's so content that he's nearly asleep.

Nearly.

The sound of someone nearby is enough to rouse him and he opens one eye to look back at whoever's intruding on his chosen spot. ]

What do you want?

[ 4A. Lùnasa - walk, walk fashion baby ]

[ Berserker let himself get dragged into the fashion festivities. Normally somewhat restrained in his clothing choices, he doesn't seem to mind the ridiculous clothes he's been given to wear by Precogstitchin'. Mostly covered yet completely exposed, it feels very similar to his normal Spirit Origin. He appreciates the consideration given to accommodate his wings and tail, too.

It's odd someone so cantankerous as Berserker is willing to wear this, knowing it'll draw unwanted attention. Speaking of...He gives a cold look to someone he's noticed staring at him. ]

What is it? If you want something like this, I can tell you where to get it.

[ 4B. Lùnasa - do my little turn on the catwalk ]

[ In addition to other unpaid modeling, one of the young designers decided to recruit Berserker as a model. The only reason he went with the designer is because they wouldn't leave him alone otherwise; "no" was not an answer. A dragon would set them and their designs apart! What a rare chance! So he relented and went with it.

Dark, draping styles are mostly what he ends up in, with jeweled accessories hung on his wings and horns. It's ridiculous and outlandish, but there's a certain allure about his look. He seems bored backstage, though, and looks to another model. May as well make small talk because he's sure someone will try to get it out of him sooner or later. ]

Did you get dragged into this, too?

[ Because he can't imagine someone doing this willingly. ]

[ 5. Wildcard ]

[ None of these prompts doing it for you? Got an idea in mind? Did we plot something already? Drop me a starter or message me on Discord (glitzkrieg#0673)! ]

((OOC: His appearance and current changes!))

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[ Oh... and there it is, not much left to the imagination anymore, the length of Berserker's cock jutting up in a thick, eager line against his abdomen before his stroking fingers get to work.

The sight makes Waver's own cock twitch inside his trousers, his thighs tighten and his belly clench. His breath catches audibly.

He should leave. He should go back to his room, go get dressed, leave the house. Or take a cold shower. Or--

Berserker's gaze drifts to him again, and briefly, their eyes meet. Waver freezes again, pinned in place, Berserker watching him watch, and somehow all at once it seems much worse this way. Lingering in the sidelines, doing nothing but denying them both while Berserker displays himself like this in Waver's home. Being embarrassed is one thing, but this is becoming shameful. Pathetic.

The more flustered Waver gets, the harder it is to focus, to keep his mind clear. His lips curl off his teeth, showing fangs, shoulders tense. The green sliver of his iris still visible around the dilated pupils shrinks further, until his eyes are completely black, and increasingly further from coherent.

Finally, Waver actually takes a step closer. And another, stepping within reach. ]

[ Nearly everything Berserker does is calculated, though it's hard to say this deliberate act was. In the end, it has the desired effect and that's all that matters, whether he originally intended for it to end up this way. He should feel some kind of shame for that display, for giving into this desire, but he doesn't. The feral need screams louder than ever inside of his mind and...he acts on it.

Normally extremely passive and submissive, the residual effects of the full moons are enough to bypass that. With Waver within his grasp, he grabs for his wrist while his tail snakes around one leg. He leans up closer, all but whispering his words into the other man's ear. ]

You want it, don't you? You want to touch me? [ It's harder and harder to hold control over his thoughts and actions, words strained as he speaks them. ] I'll make sure you're satisfied.

Ah--!

[ Waver stumbles, unbalanced when he's grabbed, and ends up nearly on top of Berserker with one knee on the edge of the couch, his free hand grabbing the armrest behind Berserker's head to brace himself.

The questions feel like nails dragging down his back, digging into his skin. His sensitive ear twitches beneath the rush of warm breath, and Waver shivers visibly, already settling his weight onto the knee he has on the sofa.

No use denying it. At this point, he's not even sure he can.

This close, so many mixed emotions running high, Waver's weakening control finally slips. Instead of replying, Waver just growls in response, tugging against the grip of Berserker's tail around his leg to try to straddle him. ]

[ Just what he wanted. At this point, he's content to let the less stable part of his mind take over. He releases Waver's leg so he can straddle him, pressing up into his weight and warmth. His hands settle on Waver's bare torso, clawed fingers tracing down his skin. It's all Berserker can do to contain himself right now and not just immediately overwhelm the smaller man with his feral desires.

One hand settles on Waver's hip, the other moves to fondle him through his pants. If he were more in control of his mind right now, he'd made a cruel, teasing comment about hoe he got this way. The only sound he makes, however, is a low, rumbling growl deep in his chest. This is good, but he wants more... ]

[ Even if he isn't pressing hard, Waver's skin is soft, and sensitive; Berserker's claws leave thin red marks against the milk-white planes of Waver's narrow chest. He arches, the sensation like sparks making him quiver, only to be met with the much more abrupt and direct press of Berserker's palm against his hardening dick.

Waver gasps, hips bucking instantly into the pressure.

His own clawed hands find Berserker's chest, bracing his weight, and after that it's all instinct, all snarling heat and friction. Squeezing Berserker's waist with his thighs, Waver rubs and ruts against his hand and his well-muscled belly, ears pinned and teeth bared. ]

[ If he weren't in the thrall of his own feral instincts, he'd get some kind of satisfaction out of seeing Waver come completely undone. It would be the same feeling he got when Diarmuid gave into himself completely...Would be. No, now it's just need.

He pushes Waver's pants down enough to get his hand in them, finger carefully curling around his length. While he wants his own pleasure, there's an interest in seeing how desperate the turnskin will get. With each motion Waver makes, Berserker bucks his own hips up in an attempt to get more. Everything is so close and yet not quite enough to satisfy the almost maddening instincts that have overtaken him. ]

[ He can feel Berserker's cock behind him, rubbing on occasion against his clothed ass when his hips roll, a tease for both of them. Now, though, Berserker's hand slides over naked skin at last, and Waver gasps aloud to feel it. His fingers find Waver's dick already fully hard, fever-hot to touch.

He bucks again, grunting eagerly.

More. ]

[ Clothes are in the way. There's no care or thought in his actions as he pushes and pulls at any barriers between them, if tears them? So be it. They're out of the way and that's all that matters. They could worry about the condition of their clothing when this need's been taken care of.

He wants more and he all but pushes Waver against his cock. The friction draws a grunt from him, his motions to meet him growing more desperate. Berserker keeps stroking the other's dick with his free hand, speeding up with the urgency he feels. ]

[ At this point, Waver couldn't care less about his pants. His hips squirm, vaguely helpfully, as Berserker claws and yanks at his trousers, ripping the cloth out of the way until the most intact parts remain only around his legs. He wasn't wearing anything beneath.

The rough speed of his hand keeps Waver moving, grunting and gasping and occasionally whimpering at the intense friction helped along only by whatever smears of pre-cum Berserker's fingers drag down on each pass.

When Berserker shoves him back against his cock, Waver arches, pushing his hips back so their movements rub Berserker's dick along the curve of his now bare ass. His claws dig in, bracing against his chest, and Waver tips his head back, eyes shut and mouth hanging open, the thrusts of his hips getting quick and short as he mindlessly tries to just get off as quickly as possible. ]

Edited 2019-08-22 18:58 (UTC)

[By this point, you'd think that Diarmuid would be able to read the warning signs. Last time, it was a spark of hostility. This, though? It's an entirely different kind of rising tension and, like a radio signal, the closer he gets to the apartment, the stronger and clearer the sensation becomes. Ah. So, that's it. It's not entirely surprising; though they might not have told him as much, he can sense that the full moons have an effect on both of his Bonded. But still, does he really want to walk in on this? Common sense would dictate that he leave either Waver or Berserker- whichever of the two it is- to it and try and focus on something other than the heat starting to spread through his own body.

... damn it.

Preparing himself to bid a quick retreat to his room so as not to disturb... whatever... whoever... it is going on in there, he heads into the apartment.

Well, he was half right. As the door closes behind him, he stands in stunned silence, eyes wide as he stares at both Waver and Berserker tangled up on the couch in an unmistakeably compromising position. There really are no words- but he manages to conjure a few anyway.]

I'll- I'll come back later?

[Maybe they're so caught up in each other that they won't even notice he's there, let alone how flushed his face is.

As if.]

[ Berserker, truth be told, hadn't noticed him come in. It isn't until he says something that the dragon stops to stare at Diarmuid. Some kind of sense returns to him, at least enough to look vaguely embarrassed. If only Waver wasn't on top of him...

He lets go of the turnskin entirely and worms his way out from underneath him. At least he's thoughtful enough to not just throw him to the ground in favor of getting his hands on the poor witch who walked into this. Face flushed, shirt open, pants halfway down -- he's an absolute mess with a completely predatory expression. He pulls Diarmuid against him suddenly, rubbing against him as he leans down to bite the side of his neck. ]

[ Waver was also completely unaware, so hyperfocused on how close he was to coming with Berserker's enthusiastic jerking at his cock that even the door opening and the feeling of his Bonded being near didn't make an impression. Diarmuid's voice does, sort of. Barely. With his animal instinct firmly controlling him and the intense need to finish rising to a fever pitch inside him, Waver doesn't even open his eyes or acknowledge the new presence.

--but then, Berserker moves his hands, and instantly that feeling of being right on the edge drops off. Waver reacts immediately, digging his claws into Berserker's chest the moment he feels him shifting, but it's no use. He might end up with scratches, but Berserker is far stronger and bigger, and he'll have no trouble at all pushing Waver off of him, leaving him panting, unsatisfied and achingly hard on the sofa with his ruined pants around his thighs.

It takes Waver a moment to figure out what the hell is going on. All he knows is that he was in the perfect place, and now he's not; instead, he's sitting legs askew on the sofa, cock flushed and swollen and the delicious heat of almost there unraveling into a frustrated, dull tension that makes him shudder and whine.

He watches them with too-dark, glassy eyes, hand drifting down on instinct to his own dick even as his mind is still struggling to process what's going on, but it's nowhere near as satisfying now. ]

[It was a lot to take in before but as Berserker descends upon him, he's disorientated enough that he doesn't initially put up a fight. The collar of his shirt is easily pushed aside, his body yielding the moment that his teeth sink into his throat. Having gone most of his life without a single love bite, nowadays he seems to have at least one, fading or fresh or otherwise, at any given moment.

Vaguely, though, Diarmuid wants to scold him. Not for the inevitable bruise or ending up in this situation in the first place- that can wait until later- but for abandoning Waver so quickly. Leaving a job half finished? How thoughtless- and entirely ungentlemanly, as far as he's concerned.

... ah. Now he's caught up in this too, isn't he? Trapped in the middle of two monsters and their increasingly clouded, hungry urges, it's a struggle to fight their Bonds and keep hold of his own. For now, at least, he keeps himself in check. Placing a firm, deep kiss against Berserker's mouth in an attempt to temporarily satiate him, he turns his attention to the turnskin where he's still draped helplessly across the couch. He wants to call him over but can he even stand right now?]

Don't be greedy, Berserker.

[Another kiss- and then he breaks away with a playful, if slightly reproachful tap on the jaw. As for Waver, he's quick to his side, resting one knee up on the cushions as he leans over to brush his hair back from his face.]

[ It was extremely rude to leave Waver like that, but he'd originally come here seeking Diarmuid. With the one he really wanted to be with right now right in front of him, it was impossible to resist. The kisses are enough to temporarily soothe him, the contact enough to draw his mind back from its completely feral state. A quiet, needy sound comes from him as the Lancer draws away, that brief touch not nearly enough. It's only fair he gets denied like that, isn't it?

Berserker doesn't necessarily owe Waver anything, but he, too, goes over to him. The dragon settles down in between his legs or as close as he can get and rests a hand atop the one on his cock. He follows the turnskin's motions, giving him a questioning look. ]

Let me. [ He manages to say, voice low and strained. ]

[ It's Diarmuid's closeness that grounds him finally, his Bonded's touch brushing along his cheek that draws Waver back a little from the mindless heat and frustration. He leans into it immediately with an almost desperate earnestness and a soft whine catching in his throat.

Waver scrambles to sit up more, get closer. He turns his head as Diarmuid smooths his hair back, and presses his face into the former Lancer's wrist where his scent is strong, tongue darting out to slide hotly over his pulse point.

Berserker's hand settling over his is enough encouragement to get Waver to move his own, but he's now too distracted licking Diarmuid's hand to really look at the dragon. A growl in response is enough to consent though, hips rocking up and thighs spreading. At this point, it doesn't feel like nearly enough, but something about Diarmuid's presence makes it better anyway. He doesn't feel as urgently desperate for immediate release, even if he does still want it; it feels like he can enjoy it more like this, even slowly, instead of succumbing to that intense need to just satisfy himself in any way as fast as possible.

While Berserker touches him, Waver nuzzles Diarmuid's palm, tongue dragging over the curve of it and licking at his fingers between low, breathy whines. ]

[It doesn't take much input from Diarmuid for the two of them to get back into whatever rhythm they had found before he disrupted it. Carefully, he eases himself onto the sofa so that Waver's head is wresting in his lap and he can better stroke his ears and jaw. There's nothing skillful about how the turnskin mouths at his hand, teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin of his palm alike, but, with his head already clouded, it's doing something for him. Whether or not he even realises it, he's biting on his lower lip, free hand tense as he grips at the fabric of his slacks. The more pressing issue, though, is something Waver will, positioned as he is, likely notice first.

But a better distraction couldn't be found than Berserker. Cold eyes hazy with need, skin beared and dark scales catching fire in the light, hair tousled- he can't resist leaning forward to meet him once more. With a shaky breath that betrays everything he's trying so hard to disguise, Diarmuid tries to steal another kiss- although he wouldn't begrudge the dragon if he decided to deny him. After all, he's the one who left him wanting in the doorway just now.]

[ Though the kiss is welcome and met eagerly, deep and rough, Berserker pulls away. As much as he wants more from Diarmuid, he turns his attentions fully on Waver for now. The dragon adjusts himself so his head is closer to his crotch. He takes the tip of the turnskin's arousal into his mouth as he continues to stroke it, mindful of his sharp teeth. It's driven by pure instinct and lust, not exactly skilled. What he lacks in skill, though, he makes up for in eagerness, tongue snaking and swirling around the head of Waver's dick. It's still a fairly slow pace, enough to keep the tension up but without the desperate urgency of their prior rutting.

Low, needy noises come from Berserker as he continues to bob his head, face flushed with his gaze focused on the witch. His thighs tense and squeeze together, the hand on Waver's thigh tenses up in turn. Claws dig into sensitive flesh as he squirms just a little bit. The dragon denies himself for now, even if it's becoming unbearable. How hard he is hurts a little bit and the sudden denial of pleasure makes it that much worse. Again, it's only fair after the way he acted. ]

[ As Diarmuid settles on the couch with them and draws him down, Waver lies on his side, still small enough they'll have no trouble fitting. He manages to kick off the shreds of his loose trousers between Berserker's touches, folding up one leg and bracing the other on the couch to give Berserker room.

He hadn't expected more than his hands. Waver whines at the first hint of tongue, hips twitching forward, turning his head to bury the sound in Diarmuid's thigh-- and immediately being overwhelmed by the scent of his Bonded's arousal. It draws him, tugging at urges both new and deep-seated, the need to please and want to make him feel good; it makes Waver feel good too.

His weight shifts slightly, one hand bracing on Diarmuid's thigh and an elbow on the sofa, and Waver twists as much as he can where he lies, legs spread for Berseker and face buried in Diarmuid's lap. His breath is hot, the noise of his groans and whimpers muffled against the bulge in Diarmuid's trousers as Waver mouths at him through the cloth, lips and tongue moving eagerly over the shape of him.

When Berserker's claws prick the soft flesh along the inside of his thigh, Waver's whole body jerks, a high-pitched whine catching in his throat, exhaling fever-hot against the damp front of Diarmuid's crotch. It's not exactly a sound of pain. ]

[This time it's Diarmuid who's caught unawares. The Lancer inhales sharply, an electric tension jolting through his entire body for a split second as Waver presses against him. He glances up abruptly, meeting Berserker's gaze with a look that's initially somewhat deerlike and then with more certainty as he lets the mood wash over him. It's not giving in, really. There's no weakness, moral or otherwise, in it, no judgement to be made- not when he's already aching with need, right? The sight of his two Bonded so thoroughly undone is the last straw.

Fingers fumble with buttons, clumsy in defiance of their usual grace, but he's quick to unfasten his slacks and tug fabric out of the way. Gently, then, he places his hand over Waver's where it rests on his thigh and guides it to his cock, biting down on his lower lip at the first brush of his fingertips against sensitive skin.]

Easy, Waver-

[Even with his mind swimming with arousal, it seems more than a little crude to say "don't choke yourself" but that gets the message across more or less. Every stroke of the mage's hair is accompanied by an encouraging murmur of something in Gaelic- if he's listening, Berserker will recognise it as a repetition of his last words- or sigh of contentment.]

[ Even with the scene playing out before him, Berserker continues to deny himself. Despite the heightened state of arousal and on the edge of losing control to feral desires, he still finds a way to punish himself. It was his own wants that that started this mess, right? It's only fair he force himself to wait.

Seeing Diarmuid indulge Waver's want to please only makes denying himself harder. There's something almost forbidden about what they're doing, Berserker feels like he shouldn't be watching it. An intimate act not really meant to be seen by anyone else, but he's a part of it. Heat pools in the pit of his stomach, making his desire for more burn that much hotter. It's difficult to focus on anything but how hard he is. The dragon shifts a little as he presses his thighs together harder, trying to ignore how badly he wants any sort of attention on himself.

He pulls off of Waver's cock with a wet pop, breath hot against the sensitive skin. His hand doesn't stop stroking the saliva-slicked length as he takes a moment to catch his breath. It's a bit of strange sight to see someone normally so cold and apathetic in this state: hair tousled, face flushed, lips swollen, desperate for more. His tongue flattens against the underside of Waver's dick as he drags it from base to tip, pausing long enough to say something before he takes it back in his mouth completely. ]

Eager...isn't he?

[ Well. He certainly is that.

Diarmuid unfastens his slacks and pulls free his cock, and Waver is immediately squirming into a better-angled position, determined even with the distraction of what Berserker's doing between his legs.

His fingers wrap around Diarmuid's cock, squeezing gently to feel how aroused he is. Diarmuid's vocal encouragement excites him as much as the scent, and Waver whines in response, tongue sliding wetly along the underside and around the head. With the pad of his thumb, careful of his claws, he gently works the foreskin out of the way and lathes the flat of his tongue across the sensitive tip, gathering the taste of him starting to bead up.

The way Berserker's working him, it's difficult to keep from reacting; Waver's hips buck shallowly, his breath ragged and catching, hot against Diarmuid's cock rubbing against his tongue and lips. He wants to do more, but even in this state, he's anxious about not being able to control himself; or, rather, with Diarmuid's closeness pulling him back from an actual feral state, now he's just caught up in heat and want, but not nearly mindless enough to not be aware of his own teeth. The desire to make his Bonded feel good clashes with his own uncertainty. He's still new at this, and he's scared he'll do badly--

The worry wins over his own needs. Panting, Waver pulls back from his thorough licking at Diarmuid's dick, and manages to lift his head enough to cast a glassy-eyed gaze down at Berserker on the floor. His leg shifts slightly, like he doesn't know what to do with it, while Berserker's mouth around his cock sends shivers up his spine, hips still moving shallowly in time.

He could be close, very soon, but instead Waver tries to pull back a little, gasping out: ]

W-wait...

Edited 2019-08-28 21:48 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

August Quest Log and Catch-all [OPEN]

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this is so late i'm so sorry

it's all good!

<3!