onebehind | making war just for fun (for first

Entry tags:

making war just for fun (for first_rule)

The good news was, at some point before the end of the week, before hurting Jack, before most of the truly terrible thing he'd done, Dylan had realized he needed help. The bad news was this realization had hit during one of the lows, and he'd decided what he needed wasn't to be fixed, to regain his (mostly) moral high ground, but to sink entirely and stop having moments of conflict and hesitation. He also wanted to be able to keep this power, once the week was out, because really, what fun would the ultimate loss of what little light remained in him be if he was left largely impotent again, at the end of it all, half his magic still missing? What point would there be to finally wanting to throw his weight around here, without concern for who he hurt in the process, if he had no weight to actually throw?

And so he'd gone to one of the darker Agents. Attar, Loki -- take your pick, really. He'd made a deal for a couple of favors at a later date, none of which he had any intention of ever actually fulfilling, and after he'd walked away, he'd spent the rest of the week dealing with the final death throes of his morality, desperate flickers of panic and conscious, before it curled up and died entirely. Now, there was nothing holding him back, he had power overflowing at his fingertips, and all was well. Thankfully, he'd also leveled out to a certain degree, but only a little. He wasn't so hellbent on murdering Jack, now -- now, it seemed more sensible to try and turn him and the other Horsemen, first -- but destroying Teleios? Oh, that was certainly on the agenda.

Maybe he'd find Samuel and Bailey and, after making them suffer for the hurt they'd inflicted on him (maybe he'd force them to hurt themselves as he'd hinted at Daniel might be in store for Jack, his voice still and now forever a thing of power), find whatever little doom they planned to use on the city and make it his own. Maybe he'd just see what trouble he could get up to on his own or with the Horsemen. Maybe -- well, there were so many possibilities, really, and he had so many ideas.

Right now, though? First, he was going to have a drink. A toast to himself and to something actually going right in this hellhole for once.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

Daniel didn't want to just accept this was normal. Not the fact that his body was practically betraying him with a desperate need to be fucked. Not even to go ass up and getting his ass pounded, something he had never done and ever thought to do, but his body accepting this. Wanting this. Wanting to have that slick pussy between his legs. The tits scared him more than that, and maybe it was a self realization of comments about his manhood and his abilities. Whatever it was, he found himself not questioning the changes when he thought about Dylan fucking him, telling him he was special. Combined they left him wanting to accept the chances, wanting to accept he could be Daniel and being this wanton slut that opened his legs for the most powerful person he knew and begged to be fucked.

It shouldn't be normal to be writhing on the ground behind a market stall, hand in his pants trying to force his fingers into his pussy and tugging at one nipple so hard he kept whimpering. It shouldn't be normal to feel phantom touches that weren't there, of a man he was fantasizing about making him come over and over again on his cock. None of it should be normal and yet his mind wanted it. His body craved it. He'd been kidnapped to a foreign land. He'd seen creatures that didn't exist. Was this so weird?

It was but he didn't want to admit that, didn't want to make it stop.

Even when he imagined, though he imagined, that fleeting touch. His hips bucked, trying to grind himself against a hand that wasn't there. It never occurred to him it was Dylan, there, teasing him. All that time he assumed it was his own mind.

"Please," he whispered, gasping, eyes closed tight and desperately wanting it right then and there. His fingers rubbed harder, motions half pushing his jeans down his ass, finally getting two fingers into his cunt, at least to the first knuckle, the heel of his hand grinding against his clit. Panting, fucking his hand, and yet he felt himself on that edge, so close, wanting to "fall" over the other side and come all over his hand, to feel his cunt clutch for a cock it didn't have.

Yet he rubbed, pounding himself... and nothing.

Snarling out in frustration, his hand moving from his breast and flinging outward. It was a magic he'd had for days, one that he hadn't used too much, unsure where it had come from. Lip curling, not even focusing. Just wild magic and the stall across from where he half lay, writhing in the dirt, it began to curl in on itself. Growing smaller, and not caring there was a man inside, the one running the market.

He heard a scream, others rushing forward, tearing at the magically enchanted stall even as it continued to fold in on itself. The man managed to get out a hole they made, screaming as the stall crushed his foot.

It was that scream that made Daniel jerk, almost coming back into himself as if he hadn't even been there to know what was going on. Yet he had, and he had done that in his anger at being unable to get off. He had begged for Jack to be safe, not to hurt others, and yet it wasn't taking much to take apart a man that had spent his life doing things for his own needs, whatever they were at the time.

Dylan glanced at the stall, briefly, then back to Daniel, curious? Was that adrenaline and disappointment-fueled magic, their original magic, back before he'd made his deal? Or was that something Daniel had manifested just now, his body thinking power equated to being monstrous? Either way, it wasn't quite was he was looking for, even if it was interesting. Still, though, it would earn Daniel a little something for the effort -- and maybe to make him want to make a second attempt at getting himself off.

That in mind and Daniel bare now, he reached to touch him again, fingers skating down that line of coarse hair, teasing. He kept that up briefly, maddeningly, and then pushed lower, fingers pressing into his clit, massaging it. He managed to gather the will to pull his fingers back again after a moment and before Daniel could get his release, though not without a sound, part disappointment, part need slipping out of him. Who could keep this up the longest, he wondered?

"I was hoping for something a little more ... " He raked his tongue over his teeth. And then continued, more magic in his voice, always magic. "Fangs, claws, fucking wings, whatever. Try again."

To get himself off, to be as much a beast, a thing, as hideous in his beauty physically as he was apparently capable of mentally as Dylan broke him down.

The city of Teleios had once gifted him with being able to shift things shape and he had used it then, trying to make Dylan happy. After their talks about not hurting Jack, not being forced to hurt others, that feeling of doing something monsterous had manifested in him acting and reacting to the lust in his body.

Yet there was no relief, no contentment in what he had done. Even if it meant that no one was paying the least bit of attention to a half dressed man, one breast bared and his pants around the tops of his thighs to give him better access to his pussy.

He didn't have much time to think about it though. Not when there was a new burst of pleasure coursing through him though his hands were at his sides, clutching at the grass beneath him.

"Yes. Fuck, god, that's it," he moaned, not sure if he was imagining it, was Dylan even there? He didn't know, but he knew that it felt good and he was so close, and right as he was about to come...

It ended.

Daniel roared, the sound rough and hard and desperate as he clawed up dirt and grass. Not tore it up, clawed it up. His hands, cherished and protected as they were his skill and his life and his magic, they now bore sharp, curved claws that tipped every finger. Acting like a monster in nearly killing a man wasn't enough. Now he looked it with midnight black claws that weren't even close to being human, much more like that seen in horror movies, far removed even from something animalistic, marring hands that had always been well cared for and manicured.

Now it was a scream Daniel gave, staring at his hands even as the breasts shrank in his shock, the lust dying for a moment at claws that would likely tear him up if he tried to pleasure himself again.

"Good," Dylan purred, darting down to flick his tongue over what remained of one of Daniel's nipples, hoping to wind him up again, to pull the lust back to a fevered haze. And assuming that didn't work, he pushed him verbally as he pulled back. "But it's not gonna go away that easy. You still need to get yourself off. You still need me inside you. Give me the tits back. Give me more."

Daniel would have to get creative in how he tried in his desperation to get himself off. And he'd keep changing every time he tried, new features coming to a head even as he couldn't. Not without him. He wondered, too, if new wants would come with the changes, even if he hadn't ordered it so, a hunger for other things beside his cock in him as the vampire shift made him want for blood.

That would be interesting. And that would be all on Daniel, not him, despite his protests at the idea of hurting someone.

Giving over to lust was easy. Trying to give over to lust when he was bearing claws, and he was feeling spirits suckling at his breast as the skin and fat tried to sink back into his body even as he responded to that phantom touch. Wet and hot and he was making soft, confused sounds as his body tried to stop and give over to those sensations at the same time.

The result was that his mind was reeling, body bucking and shifting, trying to get away and yet wanting to touch himself more. Maybe if he could just get off it would stop. Maybe he could breath and not want to grind himself against anything and everything.

Except he had no idea how to do it with those claws. Pressing the heel of his hand against his clit, shifting and writhing, trying to just use that to get him off. It wasn't working though, feeling open and empty and wanting cock inside him for hours. No, not just a cock. Not just any cock. He wanted Dylan. Even now he knew that it would be Dylan's cock inside of him that would make this feel right.

Pressing harder, grinding himself against his palm.

The pain was sharp and sudden. He bit back a scream even as his skull split, the horns rising from just above his temple on either side of his head. Twisting, curving, curling back. For some teeth and fangs might bother them, but Danny it was his looks, his boyish good looks. And now he was turning into a demon.

"Huh, succubus," Dylan decided as the horns rose from his skull. He reached out fingers brushing along the edges of them as they broke skin, the gesture meant to be soothing, a balm for the pain. After a moment, he added, "It doesn't hurt, it feels good to change, to stop being human."

Whatever else Daniel went through now would feel good in a maddening sort of way, in the same sort of way his failed attempts at fucking himself on his hand would. It would wind him up further, new flesh and bone whatever else practically erogenous as it formed, and if he decided to go for that, that touching that might be easier? He'd keep changing just as fast as he would if he stuck strictly to very literally trying to screw himself.

Dylan's cock jumped again at the thought and he shifted, hips lifting as he tried to get some measure of friction against denim. He managed, but it wasn't what he wanted, as good as he was hoping for. He wanted what Daniel wanted, he wanted to be inside him, breasts bouncing as they filled out again, heavier this time than before now that they were both getting some measure of what they wanted, needed, perfect and pert, despite their weight, and --

Okay, forget this.

Biting down on his lower lip, he waited just a moment more, for Daniel's horns or whatever else his body felt he needed to make succubus finished growing out, and then he was shifting to stretch out over him. The illusion he'd held so tightly to before now crumbled and all at once he was visible as he reached for Daniel's hand, pulling it away from his cunt to rest at his belt. He curled Daniel's fingers around it and bucked once, needy. A part of him was hoping Daniel had developed some manner of horrible strength to go with those claws so he could disrobe him as quickly as he had the other night.

"Fuck, I need you," he breathed, leaning down to catch his mouth. "I want to be inside you."

Likely that was entirely what he was becoming. Needy, desperate, wanting the sex so badly he didn't care what he had to do for it. Whatever it took, just so long as he could have Dylan more. Constantly if he could. That definitely felt good to him, just thinking about it.

Moaning as the curl of the horns made him sigh, head rolling to one side, enjoying the sensation even as he opened his eyes. Brilliant and red around dark, midnight black pupils that were more slitted than circles. His hands ran over them, growing wetter with that touch, loving the way it felt, damn but that felt good. Almost as good as his fingers over his cunt, and a lot less dangerous.

"Dammit. Fuck. Dylan. Where are you," he groaned, not caring that his ass was covered in grass, that he was feeling like he could literally live from sucking Dylan's dick. He didn't care. Whatever he could have.

He wasn't sure if he had been there that whole time, or if he summoned him with those words. All he knew was that suddenly Dylan was there and even as he cried out at having his hand moved, he didn't even think about undoing the belt and buttons. None of that.

Claws ripped and tore at denim, being as careful as he could to not tear flesh. If he did, he would take his punishment, offer his own blood to replace what was taken. Whatever he had to so that he could have Dylan now.

"Yes! Fuck me. Dylan, I need you to fuck me hard. God, I'm so fucking wet for you. Just for you. Please, fuck me," he panted, begging even as he writhed and bucked, trying to get his legs wrapped around Dylan's hips as if he could pull that thick cock into him.

"So I noticed," he answered, hips jerking against Daniel's in turn. He couldn't help it (and for an instant, he wasn't sure if that was his own desire, something he'd done to Daniel, some kind of pheromones he'd developed in becoming a succubus, going straight to his cock), nor could he help the moan that followed as his head brushed against that tight, wet slit (the thought evaporated, he didn't care). "And Christ, you're beautiful."

Not that he wasn't before, not even with the dick and in the absence of tits, but the change he'd gone through only seemed to turn him on more. He wanted him, so much so that he could forego making him convince him to fuck him as he originally planned. So much so that without further comment, he moved a hand to one of Daniel's thighs, helping, nudging it up, around his hips or at least out of the way, and without preamble, sunk into him.

He dropped his head to his shoulder, whimpering. "Fuck. You -- God."

His hips bucked of their own accord again as the words died in his throat, and giving up on them a second time, he shifted to kiss him shakily. Distantly, he wondered if Daniel could, would feed on him, on his sex as he started moving against him frantically, fucking over any other descriptor of the act again. A part of him hoped he could. He wanted to feel that, perhaps masochistically, as much as he wanted to feel Daniel come again, and he slid a hand up to brush his chest, one horn, hoping it would help speed along one, the other, or both.

Daniel had no idea he was emitting pheromones, though it was all part of it coming together. Dylan wanted him to be monsterous, and he was. In so many ways. Horns and claws, strength, and a hunger he had no idea how to handle. One that made him want to have more, to get as much as he could from Dylan, from others. All sex and the delicious hormones from it.

Hearing he was beautiful, that helped. Like being special. All of it coming together, that helped. What helped more was thick cock sliding into him and leaving him finally feeling full.

It was enough to set other changes in motion. Like those tits coming back. Large, heavy, and still perky as they could be when designed by magic. Made to drive Dylan mad, to crank things up to make him want it more.

There was nothing shakey about how Daniel kissed him back. Hard, arching up into the kiss, pushing to get more. Almost as if he was drinking from Dylan already. Both hands cradled either side of Dylan's face, stroking his cheeks, trying to push him further. Rocking up, matching every thrust with a rock of his body, hiking his legs up higher, heels locking around Dylan's waist.

"Dylan!"

Breaking the kiss, clutching his hands to his shoulders, crying out. "Fuck. Fuck. That's it. God, I can't get enough of your damn dick," he moaned, trembling. "So close. Close. Fuck. Make me come, Baby, make me come." He moved to look him in the eyes. "Make me come like I'm yours."

Dylan pressed down against his breasts as they returned, moaning as they pressed back, growing heavy, swollen. If he was trying to drive him mad, between that and the pheromones and the feel of him around him, he was. And -- well, Daniel had said it. Fuck.

All but whimpering, needy, hungry, driven thoughtless, mad, running on instinct, he drove into him mercilessly. And when Daniel looked at him, he could do nothing but obey, driving harder, the hand wrapped around one horn, working it as if it were a cock pulling away abruptly. He shifted, wedging his fingers between them even as they moved, heavy and hard, and pressed his fingers into Daniel's clit, playing at it lightly enough not to hurt but frantically. He needed Daniel to come as much as he needed to himself, balls drawing up slowly with need as he moved towards that edge.

"Please," he managed to choke out. It didn't even occur to him that he was begging.

Giving as much as he was taking, becoming more of what he could be and less than what he had been. It wasn't just wings and claws, claws that raked lightly over Dylan's skin. It was the thoughts that he could easily open Dylan's skin, have blood pouring over him even as Dylan fucked him raw.

Dylan could heal. Daniel could as well. That was part of it. All he was taking, everything that had changed, and he just wanted more. He had no desire to lose any of it. Not in the least. Suddenly he wanted it all. All of it and everything.

He could feel that hand on his horn, stroking him, making his clit throb with every stroke, feeling almost like it was pulsing against Dylan's fingers.

Yet it was that statement, being pleaded with to come. That was enough to make him want to do just what Dylan wanted.

"Only if you bite me before you come," he managed to choke out, even as he arched up, kissing Dylan once more. Hard, drawing in the sexual energy even as he shuddered, bucked, came hard around Dylan. Feeling every flutter of his cunt around thick flesh as he broke the kiss, mewling and moaning as he came, feeling as if it wouldn't ever stop.

Dylan groaned at the request, trying to pull his thoughts together long enough to change himself, go back to the vampire. It didn't occur to him that he might burn for it (might, but wouldn't, the two of them hidden in the shadow of the stall), all that mattered was doing what Daniel wanted, a reward for playing along so well so far and surely not Daniel's own, new power wrapping him up in a haze of lust, a desire to please.

Which ever way it truly was, however, he managed, eyes suddenly blood-black with his desire, all of it, teeth sharpening into fangs against his mouth. He nipped at Daniel's lip as he pulled away from the kiss, moaning himself and loudly as Daniel's cunt twitched around him, and then he was burying his face in his throat. He came, not quite as ordered, at that first taste of blood, spilling into him with a final, hard jerk of his hips.

And God, he could taste Daniel's pleasure in his blood, taste himself, his energy on him as if it were a real thing, a tangible thing, like Daniel had tasted his own pussy on his cock when he'd sucked him off. It was amazing. And if he'd been worried about getting hard again last time, just buried in Daniel, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm, he was doubly so, now, more lust rushing through him with every little flutter, every drop of blood.

"Fuck," he choked as he broke away, breathless. Never mind the fact that he could have kept going, kept taking. Daniel would have survived it and it wasn't like he actually needed the air.

Power was almost a tangible thing between them as Dylan shifted, eyes flashing differently and knowing that the fangs came with it. Just that thought made him tremble, body still shuddering from the afterschocks and knowing what was to come. Likely him again, if this went as he thought it would. Or how he was hoping it would as Daniel bore down, purposefully working his cunt against Dylan, just to see what he might do, what Danny could do to him.

Then there was pleasure. Fucking insane amounts of pleasure. It shot through Danny, straight to his core, and then through to his cunt. There wasn't even a moment to think. Not when he could still taste Dylan, could feel him coming inside of him. Daniel whimpered, whining, crying out as he came again, claws scratching a bit more roughly over Dylan's back, barely able to stay conscious enough to catch himself from trying to bathe himself in Dylan's blood.

Powered by lust, lightheaded from being fed on like that, and still bucking as this second orgasm left him barely able to even see past the haze of lust.

That -- there were no words for it, really.

Never mind the fact that he tried for them, choked on them, watched them swallowed by another moan, this one louder. A whimper followed, not at the bite of claws, which he arched into, surprisingly, but at the jerk of his hips that followed. He couldn't help it, wasn't sure what to do with it, Daniel's second break both wonderful and painful on his oversensitive cock.

In the end, despite the fact that some small part of him knew it was a terrible idea, he attached his mouth to Daniel's throat again, fangs digging in again. A whine followed as he tasted his orgasm and his power a second time through blood. He could feel himself getting hard again inside him almost despite himself, despite the fact that men weren't supposed to be hardwired to go again this soon or have multiple orgasms or -- whatever.

He wasn't sure he cared. Blame it on inhuman stamina on both their parts.

Even Daniel was silent. No, he wasn't speaking, but that didn't mean he wasn't making a myriad of noises as he trembled through his second release. So much of what Daniel had wanted, needed over the years, was coming together in this moment. Being needed, wanted, capable and sure of himself. Later he would likely have another thought on this, find himself caught between the man he was and the monster he was becoming, but with Dylan's weight pressing down on him, and feeling himself filled even as he was drained, that was nothing Danny wanted to face now.

Instead he rocked against Dylan, making it clear that he wanted anything that the other man would give him... or offered whatever Dylan wanted to take from him. Blood. Pleasure. Whatever he wanted.

His eyes flared crimson, loving that he had brought Dylan to that state once more. He finally found his voice, only for one reason.

"Flip over," he managed, voice hoarse and throaty at the same time.

For an instant, Dylan surfaced from the haze of want brought on by Daniel, by him still trembling around him, by his dick responding in kind at Daniel's command. He wasn't sure where that brief moment of clarity had come from, the smell of him, the lingering taste of his blood in his mouth, how tight and wet and God he still was for him, but he had one, all the same. And the thought that came with it? The thought that came with it was that maybe they should stop.

It wasn't the feeding he was worried about, his or Daniel's own, as neither of them could really die. He couldn't drain Daniel dry any more than he could drive him to the point of death by exhaustion or suicide or whatever it was succubi were supposed to do to their victims. It wasn't even the bite of Daniel's claws that worried him, the feel of his own blood running down his back for an instant like drops of rain before his body took the initiative to heal. No, in this case, it was the idea that they might get caught in some sort of loop, the both of them getting off, the both of them turned on again, over and over, until -- what, exactly? How long would they be stuck like this? And more than that Daniel shouldn't have been able to have this kind of control over him, leading him around, very literally, by his dick. He was supposed to be the one in charge here. He --

And when that instant of sanity faded, when Daniel's eyes all but sparked, he decided he didn't care. If he was the only one that could satisfy Daniel until he released him of that command, he was more than happy to let him return the favor over and over and over again. He needed him. He needed what Daniel had fantasized at his pleasure earlier, him bouncing along on his cock, watching him drive up into him desperately, watching him come or -- whatever else Daniel had in mind.

With that thought, he whimpered, nodding furiously, and shifted, hands going to Daniel's hips to pull him along with him, tight and close, not wanting to lose the heat and warmth of his cunt around him as he rolled onto his back. When he'd gotten them settled again and without waiting for further prompting, he reached to skate his fingers lazily along the curve of one of Daniel's horns again. Whatever was coming, whatever he had in mind for him, for them, he wanted him to feel it, too, be ready for it, want it as much as he wanted Daniel. He figured touching those horns could only help wind him up again, especially when he'd taken care to make them as sensitive as his clit, the head of his cock, whatever.

"Whatever you want," he murmured belatedly.

Daniel's world was, for all intents and purposes, gone. All he had wanted, who he had been, it was dead to his mind and body in that moment. He wasn't thinking about anything but Dylan. All he was giving to Daniel, all that he had taken as well. He knew he'd know the man's scent on a tee shirt, remember the taste of his kiss, and the way his cock stretched both mouth and pussy. Even without horns and claws, he would think about the feel of a hand stroking his horn, and of skin splitting just so beneath his claws. There was no turning back. Even if he tried to stay away, he would still remember it all.

And he wouldn't know how much that would keep him on this edge. That each time he thought of Dylan and got hard, he would stroke himself and find there was no denying his desires. He would grow claws and horns and his body would do whatever it must to appeal to Dylan, wanting him.

Wanting what he'd just had, the push of cock inside of them as they moved, sliding over, pushing himself up on his knees and grinding down against Dylan. Those words came to him, and he smiled. It was slow and wicked, showing the hints of tiny fangs to heighten the appearance as a succubus.

"No," he whispered, shifting to lean down and over Dylan. It made him slide off Dylan slightly, body clenching around him as if hating the idea of even losing that connection to him. "Whatever you want," he whispered, staring into Dylan's eyes. For a minute the color was not that of the demon form but of Daniel himself. It was what drove him to that form, brought him to the sort that killed by sexual pleasure, wanting to offer that to Dylan.

"And trust me," he said, still smiling as he shifted back, sliding himself ever so slowly down onto Dylan once more. He braced his hands on the other man's chest as he gave a slow, playful circle of his hips. Almost as if he was dancing, rolling his hips, and using that to roll himself on Dylan's cock. "You want this."

Dylan would probably like that. Knowing that, when this was over, when he gave him his dick back, the rest of it would stick. That whenever he got going, he'd change, without further orders on Dylan's part and --

Well. He might have been a mind reader, but he had no presence of mind for it now, so that delicious possibility never occurred to him. All he knew was Daniel pulling away and he whimpered, looking up at him and his eyes, his own eyes, something like agony in his as he arched up, trying to follow him, meet him again, push into him. That wasn't fair, not when he wanted him as badly as he did, not when he was so fucking hard it hurt.

Another soft sound followed as Daniel started to sink back onto him, fingers digging into where they'd remained at his hips, trying to help, helpless himself. "God, yes," he managed as his fingers relaxed, tightened again, over and over. "Please -- fuck, just -- need you."

The last was punctuated by a hungry, inhuman growl as he strained further, meeting him as he sunk back down.

It was amazing seeing Dylan like this. Needy and wanton, begging for it. Daniel had wanted this in some way for as long as he had known the man and yet could never have put a name to it. Until now. He wanted Dylan to want him, to need him. He had always thought magically but this, this was better. This was in a way that Daniel knew he could be as good, if not better, as the man beneath him. Whatever it took, he thought, he would give him that.

Letting his nails just barely dig in against Dylan's chest, using that pressure to brace himself as he rocked, riding him with low, slow, strokes as he stared down at him.

"You have me," he whispered, voice low and melodic, drawing in the energy of pleasure and letting it pour out in his voice as well. "Have me fucking you until you pass out," he purred, liking the idea of showing Dylan so much pleasure he couldn't stand it.

"Come on, Boss," he murmured, smiling down at him, eyes fairly glowing. "Fuck me. Fuck me until I beg you to come in me," he said, trying to use words to push Dylan further as he rocked harder, faster, dropping himself down onto Dylan's cock with grunts and moans that rumbled through his body. "Fuck what's yours and only yours," he said, dragging his nails lightly over Dylan's chest as he began slam fucking himself against the other man.

Dylan liked that, the idea that Daniel was his and only his. Never mind the fact that he'd done that to him, left him needed only him, his own hands, anyone else not enough, never enough, not ever again, but -- still. It was good to hear. It was something he'd have to make sure stuck, if he made Daniel keep this, and he just might, maybe, if he couldn't remember later why that might be a bad idea, if Daniel begged to stay a monster.

But later. He'd think about that later. Right now, he was busy, literally trembling in his need, as he arched up to meet Daniel again and again. Small noises followed each thrust, a mix of whimpers and moans and grunts, the only sound beyond the slap of their bodies as they came together. His fingers tightened at his hips, bruising, then relaxed, then danced over him erratically, desperately, at his ass pulling him tighter against him, then one breast, his horns again, his face, back to his hips. He wasn't sure what he was doing, really, beyond the need to touch him, to wind him up enough to make him beg him to come, as promised.

He needed to get him off again. He needed to get them both off, even if unfortunately and despite Daniel's power, it probably wouldn't lead to unconsciousness on his part, the energy Daniel was breathing in replaced almost as quickly as he could take it. There was something to be said for fucking a man with a healing factor when you were a succubus, apparently.

Dylan had molded Daniel well in a short time, and likely it would only become worse the longer it went on. Acceptance was easy now, and when he came to accept it when it wasn't feeling this good as well.

Daniel though wasn't thinking of himself as a monster, likely for the same reasons. Mostly because of the sounds Dylan was making, the look on the other man's face, and knowing he was doing this to him. Wanting to be good, to be impressive, to be wanted and needed, all of that was coming together and he was loving it. Loving all of it as he leaned in closer to Dylan, giving him free room to roam with his hand, to touch him and caress and leave Daniel panting as he made soft, almost pained sounds with every hard slam of his body against Dylan's.

"Oh fuck," he muttered, eyes starting to roll back, lashes fluttering. "That. God fuck, don't stop. Don't..." It was almost like warning, even as he dropped back, sliding back onto Dylan, hard and fast. Needing to be closer to him, to feel the soft brush of hairs against his breasts, but it was all so his mouth could find Dylan's.

Brushing his mouth without kissing him, body trembling, losing his rhythm. "Fuck. Oh God," he breathed against his mouth. "Come in me. Please, fuck, please."

And then his mouth claimed Dylan's, kissing him hard even as he drew on the lust, feeding hard on it as desperately as he could.

Dylan arched, as always, to meet him, his chest pressed against his, feeling the weight of his tits with no small amount of pleasure, hips and cock continuing his assault into him. This was everything Daniel had fantasized about, everything he'd made him fantasize about, minus perhaps Daniel being able to watch his face as he came. Mostly because when he did break, when he fell to that lust even as it was pulled out of him and the roll of Daniel's hips and all of it, he did so with his mouth pressed to Daniel's just as hungrily.

They'd both be bruised for it, however briefly. They'd both be bruised for how violently he shuddered against him as he spilled into him. He had no complaints, however, and the sounds he made to go along with it, helpless and wonderful, probably spoke volumes to that fact. As did the fact that his thrusts kept going even as he finished, fingers creeping down between them, hand caught and released and caught again as he moved against him, so he could punctuate the end of ever roll of his hips with a brush of fingers over Daniel's clit.

All he had fantasized about indeed.

Daniel wasn't sure he wanted to stop. There was a part of him that wanted to push, to keep going, to take all that he could and see how long he could drag this out.

There was a part of him that would try, except that Dylan got that hand between them and he couldn't breathe as he came. Just like that. There was no holding back. Not with the heat of Dylan's release inside of him, and riding the high of the lust coursing through him.

Breaking the kiss, leaning back to stare down at Dylan. Flushed and eyes bright from the lust he'd fed on, feeling good, so good he was still rocking against Dylan even as his cunt continued to pulse around him.

Yet the words he found had nothing to do with going on. They were Daniel himself showing beneath the succubus.

"Don't let me keep going," he whispered, lips caressing against Dylan's cheek, against his throat. "Not sure I can stop," he admitted, showing how far this first time had pushed him, a preview of where it all could go.

Dylan was tempted to deny him that. Him still on top of him, trembling around him, his mouth at his throat now and knowing they could both survive it, it would have been so easy to say no, to let them keep rising and falling. To let Daniel continue to feed on him forever, if it felt that good for both of them. It was --

He shook his head, dismissing the desire as much as he hated to, and grasped for that moment of clarity he'd managed earlier. It took effort, real effort, but somehow, he managed and all on his own, without Daniel pushing him. Without him leading him around by his cock. This was the opposite of that.

Turning his head, he let out a breath, stole one last, quick kiss from Daniel, and then ordered, "Stop. Enough. Enough for both of us." There was, as expected, power behind those words, just in case Daniel couldn't keep a handle on himself long enough to actually stop on his own. Just in case he, himself, couldn't.

Truth of the matter was that Daniel was not sure he could have stopped if not for that command. Everything in him was ready to go, to keep riding Dylan. Or worse, to ask for more. The thought of bending over the stall, of looking back, legs spread, and begging him to fuck him again. It was all there, just beneath the surface. He wasn't even sure he could get wetter, and yet his body tried, reacting to those thoughts.

Right until the wash of magic came over him.

Gasping, he forced himself to slide off Dylan's cock, not willing to leave though as he settled himself, sprawled over the other man and panting hard. It felt good, strong lines against the swell of his tits, the way his legs spread, baring his wet cunt and leaving him vulnerable and yet knowing he was safe there. Even if they were out in the open and bits of grass speckled his skin.

His clawed fingers lightly brushed Dylan's cheek, closing his eyes. "Mmmm, God, you are delicious."

making war just for fun (for first_rule)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject