Deceuer Quests, Full Moon, and Catch-all [Open]

[curruid_coinchenn]

Who: Berserker! (Cú Chulainn Alter) and you!
When: Throughout Deceuer
Where: Various places
What: Quests, full moon things, and more
Warnings: Violence, nsfw


[ 1A. Knuckle Crack the Bone (Ethical Bones) ]

[ Well, at least his hoarding instinct can be put to good use. Since he favors skulls, giving up the smaller bones he typically collects is no problem. The problem is, though, that Berserker's methods are not what one would consider "ethical": the bones he collects tend to be from the animals he hunts for food.

He can be found just outside the bright wall, stripping meat from the carcass of what used to be a deer (mostly with his hands, a knife is utilized only when necessary). As the ribs are revealed, he breaks them off cleanly from the spine and sets them aside. His work is meticulous and it's all he's focused on...Seemingly, anyway. As he's being observed, he speaks without stopping his work. ]

If you want the bones, you're out of luck. Find your own.

[ 1B. Walk Me to the Graveyard (Ethical Bones pt. 2) ]

[ This time Berserker can be found further out of the city, armed with Gae Bolg (his spear) and ... a shovel? In his time spent outside of the city, he's located makeshift graves. What are graves full of? Bones. His methods may not be "ethical", but it's unlikely these bones will be missed.

Knee deep in a half-dug hole, he busies himself finding the bones beneath the loose earth. He carefully sifts through the dirt, leaving the bones he finds in a neat pile by the stone marking the grave. Again, his attention seems to be completely focused on his task until he hears something close. In an instant, Gae Bolg is in his hand, leveled at whatever made the noise. ]

What are you doing out here?

[ It might sound threatening if it weren't so apathetic. ]

[ 2. Setting Up Shop (City-wide Quest #2) ]

[ Of course Berserker's going to help Waver and Caster set up shop. He's grown quite fond (and protective) of Waver, partially due to them being Bonded to the same person. Caster...He owes a lot to Caster, too. This is the least he can do. He can be fond doing whatever requires the strength of a dragon, but mostly cleaning. Sweeping, mopping, scrubbing...

He does stop eventually, though, to take a break. He takes a seat in the corner where there's a number of bottles of ale: his gift of encouragement for those helping to get this place set up. As he settles in for a little rest, he opens up a bottle and takes a drink. Noticing someone nearby, he offers an unopened one. ]

If you want to take a rest for a moment, here.

[ 3. Small But Dangerous (Full moon) ]

[ Unlike last month, Berserker is conserving warmth by taking on his smaller form. About the size of a large housecat, it's much easier to keep warm when he's this small. He can mostly be found around familiar places, curled up on hearths in the shops or bars he frequents. He can be recognized in this form by the crimson scales beneath his eyes that mimic his tattoos.

If someone disturbs him, he pops his head up and hisses, baring his mouthful of sharp teeth. ]

I'm not a pet. Try that again and you'll regret it.

[ 4. Wildcard ]

[ These prompts not doing it for you? Did we plot something out? Drop me a starter or PM me here or on Discord (glitzkrieg#0673) and we can work something out! ]

Comments

[ua_duibhne]

[Beautiful? He doesn't feel it right now: he's needy and disheveled and shameless, all for him. But it hardly even matters what Berserker's saying when he speaks in that breathless voice, when the words are trapped between their lips and his hand is in his hair. Claws drag across him and the sensation is so delicate compared to everything else that he breaks out in goosebumps, a shiver running through his otherwise completely pliant body. This time, it's teeth that find his skin- not so delicate but it sets his senses alight regardless- and in that moment, he manages to ease the rest of his cock inside him.

With a soft, trembling gasp, Diarmuid presses his forehead to Berserker's shoulder. Even after their previous encounters, he still needs a few moments to adjust to his size- and it gives him time enough to spoil him. Peppered kisses along his shoulders and neck, hands playing across the sensitive base of his tail, the sweetest words on his lips that he bites back even now.

Instead, in between kisses, he says-]

... shall I move?

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Berserker desperately wants to move, but he holds back. Self-restraint, especially in matters like this, is something he still excels at. He stills completely (not without a quiet, needy whine, though) and gives into the soft affections Diarmuid lavishes on him. Part of him feels like he doesn't deserve any of this, not the affection and especially not the devotion of the witch on his lap. This shouldn't have lasted, he should have been disappointed in something Diarmuid did and that should have been the end of it. Instead, here they are, closer than ever (in many senses of the word).

The dragon embraces him tightly for a few lingering moments, savoring his scent and warmth before easing up. Claws gently trace slow, lazy circles on his back, as if to help ease the adjustment. ]

...Please.

[ua_duibhne]

[The embrace leaves him every bit as breathless as the kisses that came before and he takes the time to bask in his presence; the barely-there acidic bite to his taste, the familiar curves of muscle and scars... the mix of overwhelming arousal and comfort is dizzying.

It might have been Diarmuid's suggestion but his legs feel like they're made of jelly as he braces his hands on Berserker's shoulders- and then, finally, he begins to roll his hips. Slow and cautious and shallow at first but, as he settles into a rhythm, the pace of his movements grows bolder. The weakness in his legs fade as pleasure creeps over him and, unwittingly, he locks his thighs around his partner's middle.

There. Hissing, he clutches at Berserker. Who needs claws when those trim, neat nails of his will leave their mark on him before the night is over.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ He responds with a hiss of his own as Diarmuid's nails dig into him; it's a pleasant contrast with the softness of their embrace. A sense of relief washes over Berserker as the witch starts to move and his grip becomes less gentle in turn. His claws dig into his back now, though not too hard.

His hips roll up to meet his rhythm eagerly, trying hard not to overwhelm him. He's so tight and hot around the dragon's cock that it's difficult to hold himself back. Each thrust, each motion of his hips is targeted on that spot deep within Diarmuid...Ah, maybe his intent is to overwhelm, even if he thinks otherwise.

There is an odd, unfamiliar sensation of a swelling near the base of him arousal; it's not unpleasant, so he thinks nothing of it. It's not worth drawing attention to right now -- he chalks it up to being so worked up. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[If it is then he's doing a stellar job of it. As he rocks into each movement, Diarmuid struggles to keep his voice under control. Each sound is short and desperate, cut off by either his own hand or the next thrust sending an explosion of stars across his vision. Whether it's skill or just familiarity with his body, Berserker manages to catch him in just the right way to rob all the strength from his legs again.

It's only when he sits back, forehead damp, mouth open and eyes glazed over, that he even notices something different- a pressure at the base of his cock, just nudging against him. Any other time he might have been more curious but he's used to the unpredictability of Berserker's transformations by now- what's one more ridge or change in shape? Which reminds him-]

Could you...? [He takes one of his clawed hands in his and moves it to his own arousal. Gods, he's hard as hell and intermittant friction isn't enough anymore.] Please.

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ He'd been so caught up in keeping Diarmuid close to him that he'd neglected his need, his incredibly hard need. Berserker gives him an apologetic look and starts to stroke him in time with the rhythm of his hips. ]

Of course...

[ Never does he pause nor really give the witch time to recover. It feels too good to see his lover so undone, to hear the sounds coming from him and know that he's the cause of all of it. All of it is so intoxicating that he can't help but give it. It was once an impossible thought that he'd come to enjoy this much less relish in having sex with someone...How many things have changed. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[If there's a "thank you" on his lips, it's stolen away by a weak groan as Berserker strokes him and he's forced to stop just for a moment to catch his breath. It's not easy; he sets a relentless pace, never letting up the movement of his hips even as Diarmuid drops against him, gasping. He could easily come like this, overstimulated and malleable in the afterglow- but he doesn't let himself. Somewhat reluctantly, he eases himself back upright and, using his broad shoulders for support, begins to ride him in earnest again.

Though he's beyond words by now, when he ducks his head again and nuzzles him, kisses the bases of his horns and his lips, he hopes the affection comes across anyway. So too does he hope he understands what he means when he places one of Berserker's hands firmly on his hips: faster or slower? Hard or gentle?

"I'd give you anything right now, Cú. Just ask."]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ He, too, is beyond words now. It seems crass to speak when their bodies can communicate everything they need to and better. Berserker gets what he's trying to convey with that gesture. He leaves his hand there, grip staying firm. It's difficult still to be honest with what he wants and not just deferring to his partner's desires. What he wants now is slow and gentle so he can maintain this intimate contact, savor it. He stills his hips finally and gives Diarmuid a moment to rest.

He tries to show what he wants by slowing his hand on Diarmuid's cock, his grip loosening up just a little. Slow and methodically, he strokes him and left his thumb slide over the head with each pass. He rocks up into him with the same slow, gentle rhythm. It's certainly a contrast from just a few moments ago.

Berserker leans up to kiss him again without much force, soft and tender. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[The only word to describe the sound he makes is a keen. Diarmuid's hands ball into white-knuckled fists and, as he fills him completely again, it feels like his entire body has turned into one absurdly sensitive nerve. Precum dribbles out across Berserker's hand, sticky across their skin as Diarmuid presses his body to his, eager for as much contact as he can get.

I love you, Ciarán Cú-

It's what he means to say, at least, but the words disappear from his mind altogether when Berserker draws him into another kiss. Diarmuid responds instantly, lips parting to let his tongue roll languidly against the dragon's. This- this is the part he savours more than anything when they fuck: the intimacy, the way his heart pounds like it's going to burst out of his chest with the intensity of everything he feels. He still wants to tell him he loves him all over again but, for now, settles on using his body rather than words.

Matching his rhythm, Diarmuid rolls his hips to meet his thrusts, breath hitching when he catches him at just the right angle. The matter of that strange swelling- dangerously close to breaching him as it feels now that he's going deeper- has been all but forgotten.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ If someone had told him that he would enjoy intimacy again, savor it, even, just a few months ago, he would have scoffed at the very idea. Everything about this is undeniably enticing and erotic: the way their bodies fit together, Diarmuid's breathing and the sounds, the taste of him, the feel of the magic pulsing between them. There's nothing he wants more in this moment than to please his lover and not just for the sake of it being over with like it used to be. No, he wants to feel Diarmuid in the throes of pleasure and take pride in knowing he's the one responsible.

Berserker groans deeply and clutches the witch closer to him. It still feels like too much space, even though they literally could not be closer if they tried. Maybe that's why he keeps trying to press that swelling into Diarmuid, slightly frustrated when it's too much for him to take. The dragon is already so close that the steady, slow rhythm is maddening, yet he endures. Anything for his knight.

He presses his face into the crook of Diarmuid's neck, eyes tightly shut. His breathing is ragged through gritted teeth as he realizes he can no longer endure. Berserker bites down into the soft skin as he comes to muffle a cry, hips rocking still as he rides out his orgasm. It's only then he feels the last of him, that strange swelling, force its way into Diarmuid. ]