[Mignon had been kind enough to give a mythical creature refuge; it’s not all that much of a surprise to see the human straining to remain a gentleman, pretending his hands are professional instead of trembling. Silent, save for a slight flute of a noise through his nose that might be laughter, Oberon reclines into the cushions with his gaze at half-mast, half-bandaged chest rising and falling with casual evenness, watching the struggle play out in front of him.
He keeps to his word - lies there pliant with Mignon’s hands turning his legs into their workshop — a pull here, a lift there, cocking one leg gently to the side so that Mignon has more room to examine him. In another timeline, positioning the fae for a much greedier purpose that would leave them both straining. It’s the great equalizer of all creatures, the need to build their pleasure and drag someone else down into the abyss with them.
Then Mignon poses the question, and Oberon nearly barks out laughing. His shoulders jump.]
My, you are thorough, aren’t you? Such a gentleman.
[There’s no wound there; a revelation Mignon himself must already know. But Oberon won’t ruin the surprise, and the fingers of his left hand track down to Mignon’s own hovered at the border between skin and fabric, drumming on the human’s knuckles.]
Forgive me, I’m feeling a little tired… help me a little more, would you?
[Liar, liar. He poured a whole bottle of disinfectant on a bullet wound and merely hissed his displeasure. But granting Mignon mercy is no fun, and Oberon’s had a long night. Let him have this. Whether the human tumbles into his base desires or keeps playing the gallant knight will leave the fae smirking either way.
His leg moves at the knee, the side of his thigh brushing idly into the bone of Mignon’s hip as if on accident, while his drumming fingers cuff at the human’s wrist. Pulling the hand to the edge of his undergarments, right above his groin, where he isn’t yet hard… but he might be, if Mignon is bold.
If he decides he’d much rather discard this game they’re playing for a much more satisfying one.]
[If Oberon knew the kinds of thoughts flashing through Mignon's mind right now, he'd never accuse him of being something like a "gentleman".
But, well, it's not like Mignon is doing a great job of hiding his thoughts regardless. As Oberon asks for his help, Mignon makes an affirming noise within his throat- though it comes out as something closer to tortured. A painful ache throbs within his own groin when Oberon's inner thighs brush against him; a surge of blood flowing south all at once. The hand at Oberon's underwear twitches in reflex as it's touched, and Mignon's fingers immediately curl beneath the hem to tug the fabric lower, as if possessed.]
Y-yeah...
[At this point he isn't giving any thought as to whether Oberon's actions are purposefully teasing him or not- Mignon is simply following his own instinct. Like an untrained dog trying his very best to behave, the larger man breathes heavily as he peels the underwear down to completely expose the man laying bare beneath him, and the sight has Mignon reflexively licking his lips; mouth watering. As an athlete, Mignon has never really thought much about another man's nudity before- but the body before him now is unlike any he's ever personally seen.
He wonders what it tastes like.
At this point Mignon is sporting an erection so fierce and prominent that it looks about ready to burst through the fabric of his tented gray sweatpants. It's too much... he can't take it anymore. One hand tightens it's grip on Oberon's thigh while the other takes hold of the hand that touches his own. Staring with eyes full of desire, Mignon raises Oberon's hand to his mouth and goes to gently kiss against the palm.]
...Sorry.
I've just... never met anybody so beautiful before.
[Feeling bashful after that confession, Mignon averts his gaze and decides to move on. Releasing Oberon's thigh, Mignon reaches out his hand to the top of Oberon's head, so that he can give a light stroke to the man's hair.] Anyway, um, you did good.
I'll get you some clothes... [For the sake of keeping his morals from crumbling, Mignon goes to make a hasty exit so that he can do his best to take a moment and will his erection away.]
The retreat is an abrupt one and sends the human skittering down the short hall into his bedroom before he disappears from Oberon’s sight, leaving all that previous warmth to quickly dissipate into the air, snuffed out, and turning the fae’s skin chilly.
He’s. not sure what has him most flabbergasted: the earnest kiss to his hand, or that Mignon stroked his head like some wayward pup.]
Bastard, the hell was that.
[Murmured carefully under the cover of his breath as he slouches, boneless, wings bent at an uncomfortable angle while his mouth twists into a thoughtful frown. Having just sidestepped arousal, he reclines into the couch without shame — beautiful, as Mignon had put it. And the human is correct. The fae come in all variety of containers, should they choose to be perceived at all, and somehow Oberon had lucked into a porcelain figure drawn by the most delicate of pens. Thin-limbed, fair-skinned, washed in pale colors, save for the lightning in his blue eyes.
— A form that’s only marred when too much of his true nature bleeds through, but…
It’s not his appearance he’s struggling with right now, but that the human’s response was to prioritize whatever boundaries he thinks the fairy covets. Which is quite the pity; that cock had looked ready to cut through the man’s sweatpants, and Oberon had been in a strangely benevolent mood. Such a miracle won’t be happening twice. He’s almost disappointed.
Drawing a hand down his bandaged chest, allowing the fingers to float at the edge, then sighing. Quick as the profanities had come, he fixes his tone back into honey while pushing off the couch cushions, ignoring how his body screams in protest:]
I fear you’re not going to find much that will fit me.
[Let’s be real; their differing sizes is to the point of hilarity.]
[Having narrowly escaped his fate of succumbing to his own impulse to fold the injured man in half and plow him into the couch, Mignon is quick to refocus once Oberon is out of sight. He's gone for a few minutes to change out of his own bloodied clothes into a fresh set, before returning to the living room with a chipper smile and a bundle of various fabrics on his arm.]
Don't count me out yet!
Look what I found~! [As if that whole awkward exchange from minutes prior never happened, Mignon happily approaches the couch and sets a few articles of clothing beside Oberon.]
Mm, it's true that these pants will probably fall right off of ya, even with the tie.... [Mignon takes a set of sweatpants with a drawstring at the front and holds them up to Oberon's thin waist, as if to judge the size. As expected- it's probably more trouble than it's worth; their length alone would probably just cause him to trip if he moved around on his own too much. Maybe he could cut them?
Disregarding the pants for now, Mignon tosses them aside and grabs his second option.]
But hey, at least you could wear this! It was a gift from one of the gyms I fought at before.
[Mignon lifts a flashy, bright red hooded shawl of sorts for Oberon to see. It's a lot like the standard boxing robe that many fighters choose to wear for the sake of their dramatic entrances into the ring, except it's more of a long cape than anything. It's even got Mignon's name on the back of it.]
If you wore a cape while you're outside, maybe it could help hide your wings! It's kinda cool, don't you think???
[— By the gods, these clothes are absolutely hideous.
It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that Mignon has completely recovered once he returns to the living room and now seems to ignore Oberon’s nakedness as if it were an afterthought. What a switch-up; the fae is almost impressed.
But god. The shawl. That robe. His expression pinches from the psychological damage that’s been inflicted upon him, freed wings fluttering their dissatisfaction while he slowly reaches out to test the flimsy fabric between his fingertips. It’s lacking, that’s for sure, nothing compared to the skill of the fae when they feel inclined to one-up humanity with their efforts. More certain than ever that he’ll be insisting on just a simple sheet, please, his dignity has suffered enough—
Oberon sees that strangely energetic expression aimed at him and double downs on a frown]
Never mind my wings; this alone would draw attention to me if I went out dressed like this. [… Eventually grabbing at the boxing robe, his efforts slow and labored as he begins to wind his arms through the sleeves]
Well, it’ll work — maybe — while I’m in your home.
[Just give him a length of cloth to tie around the middle and — yes, it’ll do. He’ll just avoid all mirrors for fear his soul will get trapped away from shame.]
[Eyes sparkling with barely-concealed delight, Mignon crouches down in front of Oberon and watches him slip into the "Mignon cape" like a proud cat-dad who somehow managed to get their fussy kitty into a handmade sweater.
Something to consider:
Does Oberon really have to wear pants? This is quite the look, after all...]
"Warrior"? [A light chuckle.] Nah, it's just me fighting other dudes for... entertainment? Or like, sports, I guess. -If they even have that sorta thing wherever you're from...
[-Which is probably a good segue into asking the winged man where exactly he is from and what he's doing here. Instead, Mignon beams; his mind following the trail to a completely different question.] ...Why?
[Spoken airly, his arms cresting through the sleeves to fiddle with the robe’s middle portion until it closes shut in some vague semblance of modesty. Given that his wings are currently bunched up underneath, the result is that of a fair-faced hunchback whose swimming in his oversized clothing, but after some sighing, glancing idly behind his shoulder—]
Come now, I should at least be able to— oh, here we are.
[A shimmer of light unfolds along his back before his wings, strangely enough, phase through the fabric as if slits had been cut into the cloth. Once more freed, they flap and unfurl while he tightens the robe closer by his waist, a snugger fit, though grimacing at how his abdomen throbs from all of this unnecessary movement.
But their thoughts seem to be similar - at no point does he demand Mignon fetch him another set of pants to try, when the robe already covers past his knees. This will do. Legs carefully crossed as he sits and settles against the couch, attempting not to jar his body further:]
Oh? For sport? [… Glancing at him, once again taking stock of the other man] Huh, you don’t seem the type into that sort of lifestyle.
[Dislikes pain and enjoys brushing elbows with strange creatures on his late night jogs. Oberon would have anticipated a much more boring life. For as large as he is, the fae can’t imagine this man as much of a beast in a fight, but, well… no one expects him to be anything but a beautiful fairy. Maybe there’s a piece of Mignon that lies as well as he does.]
Well! That aside! Seeing as you’ve housed me, clothed me.
Maybe Mignon shouldn't be surprised, considering what he's seen already. The guy does have wings, after all. But seeing something like that in real life, outside of a movie, is still pretty surreal...
-And almost just as surreal is what Oberon nonchalantly comments about him next. Mignon blinks and his brows raise; surprised by the other's observation of him. That's... the first time that anyone he's spoken to has ever implied that a big oaf like him might be suited for anything but fighting. Mignon isn't quite sure what to think about that at the moment, but for some reason... it strikes a chord.]
Payment? [Mignon cants his head to the side, confused.] Why? I don't need any.
I mean, it seems to me like you're pretty broke right now. How would you even pay me to begin with..?
[But either it’s a bluff or he just can’t be bothered with violence in his savior’s house — the ear is just as easily freed as the fairy returns to his lounging, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. Eyes dancing to the bright amusement of a feline who has a mouse in its sight.]
I’m a little disappointed by this lack of imagination. You’ve a fairy in your house, you know - and you can’t think of anything to ask of me after you’ve taken me off the roads?
[Shrugging a little, a finger reached up to lazily twist into one of his blond locks]
Listen, I know my kind can be a bit… exhausting to deal with, but I like to play nice when I can.
[Which is never.
He hates humanity as easily as he draws breath. Other fairies, at least, can’t help that they’re monstrous; their fates are sealed the moment the world births them, doomed to scripts that cannot be altered. But a human? Their greed and pompous sense of self, the casual way in which they dominate, like it was their given right - it turns the stomach and shoots bile up his throat. Mignon will be no exception.
The only difference here is that Oberon just so happened to come across a human who can be easily fooled, manipulated, and discarded if necessary. So why not offer up a little miracle to keep a pawn in his grip?
Fair’s fair. Summon a demon, and someone will be sacrificed at the altar]
Tell me — do you wish for fortune? Love? Respect? Power? I can give you anything you wish.
Huh-!? [Suddenly yanked forward by the ear, Mignon's heart gives an odd stutter within his chest once again. A similar feeling to what he felt the last time they were close- only this time, he's not quite sure whether to be more shocked or intimidated or turned on?? But the end result is a healthy mixture of all three.
Okay, so, maybe "broke" wasn't the right word for someone in Oberon's... predicament.]
Er, well, sorta.
[He answers the question dumbly; still a bit flustered even after his ear is released. Mignon remains in place; still leaning forward, finding himself in a sort of bow before the man perched up on the couch.]
So you're... a fairy? I thought that those were like, the tiny people with magic wands, that live in grass and wear little tutus and stuff... [Again, he pretty much speaks without thinking; blurting what's on his mind as he imagines a tiny Oberon fluttering around, wearing a frilly dress.
Cute...]
You can grant wishes?
[Mignon blinks; more impressed than anything. But as he thinks the question over, the athlete finds himself drawing a blank. He scratches the back of his head.] Um, sorry but... I don't really know how to answer that.
Until recently, I've never had to think about what I want. [Averting his gaze.] -Or rather... I guess I wasn't really allowed to think it.
[The fairy clucks his tongue at this man half-bowed before him like a pauper, cheshire smile alive and well on his expression despite being turned down. It doesn’t sting at his pride; at best, he’ll consider it a minor setback, proof that Mignon might not be worth the effort, but—
No, it’s not even that. Oberon just can’t be bothered to hiss and growl when the human can’t even strum up a wish in the first place. The questions such as statement brings up — I wasn't really allowed to think — are bleak enough to paint their own conclusions. Partly why the fae does not ask them. Besides, if he wanted a sob story, he’d go on the hunt for a 3-penny play. They’re all a dime a dozen.
… Still:]
Then you just need time, yes? [Reaching forward, his index finger pushing at Mignon’s forehead until there’s a bit more space to breathe between them, then dips to trace a faint line along his jaw] To figure out what your soul craves — and lucky for you, I am very patient. Why, I’ll even help you figure out the answer!
[All humans have wishes; Mignon best not insult him by implying otherwise. It’s a matter of twisted principle, now, to insist and push until the human bends to his benevolence.]
[Mignon is easily strung along by the other; hanging on his every word, swallowing as that finger playfully pokes at him and trails along his jaw. Even that minor contact is enough to make his skin feel warm, as if that singluar finger really was a magic wand of sorts, putting Mignon into a spell. Oberon doesn't actually have to do any magic for Mignon to find him magical. In fact, his presence here tonight, in a sense, almost feels like a wish granted. A sort of 'answer' to the bizarre emptiness that dwelled inside of him mere hours ago, before his jog. It's just a shame that this moment has to end soon...
.....
Wait a sec.]
"Time".... [He repeats the word, as a jolt of understanding comes over him all at once.] Yeah, that's it!
You said that I can have anything, right?
[Reaching out, Mignon eagerly grabs hold of the other's hand between his own, leaning forward again.]
Wait, hold on now — [Stumbling over his response, some of that sensual veneer sliding right off his expression, and his gaze bounces between Mignon’s excitement and his hand thoroughly trapped in that eager grip. It’s not even that the human seems determined to erode any space between them — but more the nature of that wish, disgustingly innocent in its request for companionship. Like simply the opportunity to have another in his orbit would satisfy Mignon.
What sort of lonely, cursed star was this human born under?]
— Mignon. I am a fairy. Fairy.
[Throwing his face right back at the other’s, their foreheads momentarily ground against one another.]
What on earth are you going to get out of spending time with me? I could just bewitch you a companion if that’s what you’re after!
[Blinking, Mignon is almost distracted by the sudden pressing of their foreheads together, but then he furrows his brow as Oberon speaks more- offended. Stubbornly, Mignon just nudges right back at Oberon, undeterred as he presses forward and moves to take the sides of the fairy's face in both hands.]
I don't need "a companion"! You're all I want right now.
Because I...
[There's a pause as he hesitates, before finally putting his earlier realization into words.] ...I like you.
And I would have attempted to kill you at least thrice if my mystics weren’t locked away. The average human doesn’t make friends with anything not of their ilk.
[A touch more honest than he’d normally be; he’ll blame it on the absurdity of the moment. Having long since given up on Mignon having a conniving bone in his body, twisting the man ‘round his finger has already lost its enjoyment, he recognizes, and the irritated huff of breath disrupts both of the bangs.
This man is a fighter? Bullshit he is. Oberon refuses to believe it when this is like entering the ring with a newborn. Grinding his teeth underneath the hands cupped along his jaw, the fae’s shoulders’ eventually drop with a sigh]
Your choice of wish leaves a lot to be desired here— [Calling it as he sees it] … But I don’t get to comment on the quality. I’ll grant you a week of me.
[— A week, to coincide with the time it will take to heal. At the heart of the matter, it’s what Oberon was angling for, anyway: a shelter, until he can reach back into his own soul and wield his magic against anyone who thought him easy prey. Really, when the only hiccup to his plans is a man throwing himself on the sword before the fae can think to double cross him, there really isn’t anything worth complaining about.]
A week... [Making a face of clear disapproval, Mignon almost opens his mouth to push for more- before thinking better of it, and closing his mouth again. After a moment of thought, he exhales and begrudgingly concedes.]
...Well... I'm sure your family and friends back home are probably worried sick about you right now, so... anything more than that wouldn't be good.
[He shouldn't get too greedy. If Mignon pushes him too much, Oberon will probably think he's too overbearing, and decide he's too much trouble to deal with.] ...Thanks for granting my wish.
[Looking down towards the fairy's bandages, Mignon drops his hands from the fae's face and thinks back to what was said to him earlier- about how Oberon would have killed him if possible. Of course, the thought is a bit scary, but considering the state Oberon was in... Mignon feels like he understands.] It sounds like you've had some pretty bad run-ins with humans before.
Are humans... the ones who hurt you? Just because you're a fairy..? [He lightly brushes his fingertips near the area of Oberon's bandaged wound.]
I don't blame you for thinking about defending yourself against me. I can't relate completely, but... I do know what it's like to feel scared and backed into a corner. When things got bad, it made me do something I'm not super proud of...
But maybe fighting back is all you can do sometimes.
[A pause; his expression grim, before his gaze returns to Oberon.] Anyway. I promise not to hurt you, okay?
[There’s so much in those statements that sets Oberon’s nose to wrinkling - the very notion of a fairy having a friend would have him laughing if a good chuckle wouldn’t aggravate his wound — but one musing in particular has his fingers tightened around the wrist that’s strayed close to the bandages.]
You’ve clearly never had an interaction with a fairy before. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so quick to make a promise to one.
[The human realm is one of physicality. The power of the spoken word cannot easily contend with the brute strength of someone who’d simply break you into pieces. But it’s different for the fae; they weave their power from word, from mystics, while regarding the strength of man as nothing more than a garish fumbling of a species with no decorum. Like watching children throw their fists at the earth and expect it to split open for them.
(… never mind the fact that it sometimes works, and it’s exactly why the fae can’t help themselves, on occasion: to strike deals, play along, take a human to their bed, allow their own subjugation. Why, he can think of many fairies who’d love this human painstakingly taking care of him, and would be more than happy to take that promise and noose Mignon like an animal…)
His mouth works into a line, untangling the thought and sighing. His fingers, comically thin when spread over the human’s much broader wrist, loosen, the moment of warning passing.]
Do not feel bad for me, Mignon. I’ve hurt humans as many times as they’ve hurt me. Fair is fair.
[… And then, briskly, eyes flitting away.]
In any case, I’ve no interest in bringing you to harm. You’ve such a bleeding heart, I’m starting to get concerned here. Do you normally just pick up strays and bandage them up? You need to break that habit.
[Brows raising, Mignon allows his wrist to be removed from the fairy's body; looking back at Oberon in confusion. Is promising not to hurt him really something to be cautious about...?
Oberon certainly seems to think so. He keeps insinuating how dangerous fairy's are, and how naive Mignon is for not thinking through his decision to help him. But would a truly bad person keep making so much effort to give warnings about how bad they are? Despite all of his words of warning and even the display of magic that was shown right before his eyes, Mignon just can't see him as anything but likeable and cute regardless of how dangerous he might be.
Still. Does that necessarily mean Mignon has a "bleeding heart" in general..? No... regardless of what the fairy says, that doesn't seem right at all. This is definitely something unique to Oberon.]
...I don't know if I'm the kind of guy you think I am. I wouldn't just take home anybody.
And, to be fair, I would've called for a real medical professional to pick you up instead if you didn't stop me. I've never done anything like this before, so it's not like I was confident that I could help you, but... something told me that it'd be especially bad for you if I left you alone. Plus... I'm not usually curious about people I meet, but somehow, I was curious about you. Before I knew it, my body just reacted on it's own...
[Thinking back on it now, he bluntly admits-] It's actually pretty weird, huh? I mean, you even made me hard, even though I just met you.
That sort of thing doesn't usually happen to me, but... once again, my body just reacted for some reason.
Maybe I did something dumb. I dunno. [Mignon scratches his head, before shrugging.] I'm not much of a thinker, so picking you up was more like... instinct?
Anyway, considering how you went from wanting to kill me to being "concerned" about me already, I guess my instinct deserves a little credit here, don't you think?
… Do not tell me that you just discovered what your type is.
[The rest of all that? Vaguely irritating in all the ways Oberon doesn’t feel like examining yet, since at least half of Mignon’s response wasn’t the logic of a fool. Really, the nerve of the human, pointing out that his instincts were correct if Oberon’s not even bothering to pretend he’s motivated to kill—
But that random statement about the direction that their previous interaction took… Well, there’s blunt confidence, and then there’s the disastrously bold nonsense of a man with no filter. It’s enough to stun him into silence as the fairy’s jaw works, unsure if he should be annoyed or amazed.]
To think you were being so forthright when you said you liked me… and you still just kept your hands to yourself.
[A short burst of laughter.] Haha, I dunno, you're a pretty specific "type" of guy.
Guess I'm pretty screwed if that turns out to be the case.
[What are the odds that he'll ever stumble across a delicate-looking, standoffish supernatural man with some sort of difficult past, major trust issues and an ever-so-slight bloodthirsty edge ever again....?
Well. It's probably a little more likely than Mignon thinks, but still.
Once this week is up and Oberon is returned back to wherever he came from, will that be the extent of Mignon's short-lived sexual awakening? Will anyone set his mind and body on fire like that again, or will he always find himself strangely uninterested in others?
Before he can dwell too much on that possibility, Oberon speaks again and Mignon blinks; staring a sort of confused, dumbfounded stare.
Is Oberon... complaining... about Mignon keeping his hands to himself earlier?]
[Oberon will spare Mignon the lecture — that he has encountered very few humans willing to keep their hands to themselves when the fairy has shown any willingness to indulge them — and instead lets out a snort of laughter in return when the other stares at him as if he’s grown a second head.
Y’know what? Fair enough. It’s not as if he’s explained the details of his anatomy to the man.
It’s why, without preamble, the hand still loosely tied to Mignon’s wrist releases its hold and goes to find purchase in the collar of his shirt, tugging at him with three, short bursts of insistent determination until the space between them once again turns minuscule, enough for Oberon to catch the sundrops of color in Mignon’s eyes. Head tilted, eyes slanted in mischief:]
Well, certainly, if you decided to get rough with me, it’d be a problem, but… a kiss would suffice.
[What]
You seemed so eager, it didn’t strike me as important enough to explain the details, but… [Only barely able to keep the corners of his mouth from pulling into an impish, borderline cruel grin] I’m the type of fairy that can use a human’s energy for sustenance. Helps me heal all the faster! Usually it gathers in one’s bodily fluids, and so…
[Blood. Saliva. Semen. It’s all the same to him. In a pinch, taking a lover isn’t a bad deal; Mignon’s pretty face and impressive physique were not the only reasons Oberon wasn’t against the human pressing him into the couch cushions. He even factored the possibility into his week-long healing. A kiss alone won’t exactly shave off an entire day of rest, but it will not hurt his case, either]
[It was bad enough just hearing Oberon's laugh again, and feeling that flutter within his chest immediately. But once Oberon forcefully jerks him forward, wearing that wicked grin, the athlete finds himself frozen; red in the face and flustered, as if transfixed by that hypnotizing stare.]
Wh-- huh??
F-fluids...? [The words all take a moment to fully sink into his thick skull, but once they do, it's like a switched within Mignon's brain is flipped in an instant. Mignon has never heard a single sentence that changed things so much in his entire life.
So basically, if Mignon wants to help Oberon out... It turns out that surrendering to that "instinct" that Mignon felt earlier would have been the right call after all?
Eyes shifting from fluster to desire in an instant, Mignon finds himself taking Oberon's face between his hands. It's different than before, now that Mignon has surrendered to impulse completely. His own eyes go half-lidded as he stares down at Oberon's mouth.] In that case...
I'll give it to you. My energy. [A light, experimental kiss to Oberon's lips. Testing... tasting. Yes... this feels right. He mutters against Oberon's mouth.]
I want you... to take as much as you like.
[He pushes forward to capture Oberon's mouth with his own. It's a bit clumsy at first- all passion with no real experience... But Mignon adjusts quickly. Learning fast, he tilts his head to a better angle and then shoves his tongue forward to properly explore the fae's mouth in earnest; a low groan of appreciation leaving him at the new hot and wet, slippery soft but firm sensations against his tongue.]
[It’s all eager brawn and little subtlety with this one. Oberon might not have expected much else, but there is still a note of surprise hidden in the back of his throat after Mignon stares him down and decides he’s been patient long enough, leaned forward with enough power to drive Oberon’s head against the couch. Didn’t even give him a chance to explain more of the optics; that a true energy exchange might leave Mignon a little winded if Oberon doesn’t decide to behave, and the fae aren’t exactly known for their diplomacy when they’ve something they want.
It’ll earn the man a scolding, Oberon decides, until a brush of tongue inside his mouth insists he leave such thoughts for later.
It’s a novice’s kiss - someone with limited experience, graced only by their eagerness. But Oberon chooses to remain pliant for a few beats anyway, offering up the chance for Mignon to explore at his leisure. The human adjusts his passion, tilts his head, massages their mouths together like a man starved of touch, and in response Oberon sighs deeply, a pleased hum escaping him when their noses brush.
Heat pools in his stomach. His tongue tracing against the human’s bottom lip, Oberon pulls back to lick his own lips, eyes opened again, the traces of energy turning the rims of his pupils a violent blue.]
Don’t tell me you’re just going to stand there. [Voice a touch more lightfeathered than he anticipates, pretending that his chest isn’t more quickly drawing in breath. Reaching over, his fingers find a path to Mignon’s elbow, tracing against the muscle of the other’s forearm until he massages the dip right below Mignon’s palm, where he can feel a thundering pulse begin to pick up speed.] Or are you still determined to be a gentleman?
All they've done is kiss, and Mignon can already feel his arousal rapidly returning. Maybe he pushes a bit too hard at first but he can't help it; chasing after Oberon's mouth as the blond pulls away, and making a low noise of complaint when he escapes. Breathing deeply himself, Mignon realizes that his current crouched position in front of Oberon probably makes him look like even more of a predatory animal than he's starting to feel like, and he catches himself; exhaling shakily as the seductive fae licks him. Those eyes glimmering back at him don't make it any easier for Mignon to pace himself, either. His heartbeat is already going a mile a minute by the time Oberon's finger slides down to feel his pulse.]
...I'm not. [He decides, honestly-] I don't think I know the first thing about being a gentleman.
But... I do wanna try and be careful with you for now, so...
[Dipping low, Mignon goes to scoop Oberon up into his arms bridal-style. If there's going to be 'fluids' transferred from more than just kissing, the least Mignon can do is make sure it takes place somewhere more comfortable than the couch. So, he takes the fae to his bedroom, nudging the already-cracked door open with his foot and carrying Oberon to the bed. Mignon might not have any lavish luxuries in his apartment, but if there was one thing that he was particularly excited to splurge a bit of extra cash on? It's his large mattress. -A far cry than the tiny futon he was once stuck growing on into his adulthood while living with Coach. Nice soft sheets and plenty room to sprawl back on greet Oberon's back as he's laid down gently by the larger man.]
Just promise me a couple things first.
[Mignon pauses to remove his undershirt; stripping himself topless before he crawls over Oberon in bed. His large palm goes to spread Oberon's makeshift 'cloak' open completely as he speaks, before sliding over that cute, pale chest. The sight of those pert little nipples is enough to make his mouth water, but Mignon swallows and continues; just fondling them idly, and ignoring the way his cock twitches for attention within his sweatpants.]
Firstly- Even if you can endure it, you have to tell me if something's hurting you too much, okay?
[Because, at the end of the day, despite Mignon being a considerate enough guy, the difference between his and Oberon's bodies is almost comically obvious. Not to mention the fact that the inexperienced athlete has never exactly been trained in how to do anything with his body besides using it to dominate an opponent in the ring...]
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He keeps to his word - lies there pliant with Mignon’s hands turning his legs into their workshop — a pull here, a lift there, cocking one leg gently to the side so that Mignon has more room to examine him. In another timeline, positioning the fae for a much greedier purpose that would leave them both straining. It’s the great equalizer of all creatures, the need to build their pleasure and drag someone else down into the abyss with them.
Then Mignon poses the question, and Oberon nearly barks out laughing. His shoulders jump.]
My, you are thorough, aren’t you? Such a gentleman.
[There’s no wound there; a revelation Mignon himself must already know. But Oberon won’t ruin the surprise, and the fingers of his left hand track down to Mignon’s own hovered at the border between skin and fabric, drumming on the human’s knuckles.]
Forgive me, I’m feeling a little tired… help me a little more, would you?
[Liar, liar. He poured a whole bottle of disinfectant on a bullet wound and merely hissed his displeasure. But granting Mignon mercy is no fun, and Oberon’s had a long night. Let him have this. Whether the human tumbles into his base desires or keeps playing the gallant knight will leave the fae smirking either way.
His leg moves at the knee, the side of his thigh brushing idly into the bone of Mignon’s hip as if on accident, while his drumming fingers cuff at the human’s wrist. Pulling the hand to the edge of his undergarments, right above his groin, where he isn’t yet hard… but he might be, if Mignon is bold.
If he decides he’d much rather discard this game they’re playing for a much more satisfying one.]
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But, well, it's not like Mignon is doing a great job of hiding his thoughts regardless. As Oberon asks for his help, Mignon makes an affirming noise within his throat- though it comes out as something closer to tortured. A painful ache throbs within his own groin when Oberon's inner thighs brush against him; a surge of blood flowing south all at once. The hand at Oberon's underwear twitches in reflex as it's touched, and Mignon's fingers immediately curl beneath the hem to tug the fabric lower, as if possessed.]
Y-yeah...
[At this point he isn't giving any thought as to whether Oberon's actions are purposefully teasing him or not- Mignon is simply following his own instinct. Like an untrained dog trying his very best to behave, the larger man breathes heavily as he peels the underwear down to completely expose the man laying bare beneath him, and the sight has Mignon reflexively licking his lips; mouth watering. As an athlete, Mignon has never really thought much about another man's nudity before- but the body before him now is unlike any he's ever personally seen.
He wonders what it tastes like.
At this point Mignon is sporting an erection so fierce and prominent that it looks about ready to burst through the fabric of his tented gray sweatpants. It's too much... he can't take it anymore. One hand tightens it's grip on Oberon's thigh while the other takes hold of the hand that touches his own. Staring with eyes full of desire, Mignon raises Oberon's hand to his mouth and goes to gently kiss against the palm.]
...Sorry.
I've just... never met anybody so beautiful before.
[Feeling bashful after that confession, Mignon averts his gaze and decides to move on. Releasing Oberon's thigh, Mignon reaches out his hand to the top of Oberon's head, so that he can give a light stroke to the man's hair.] Anyway, um, you did good.
I'll get you some clothes... [For the sake of keeping his morals from crumbling, Mignon goes to make a hasty exit so that he can do his best to take a moment and will his erection away.]
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The retreat is an abrupt one and sends the human skittering down the short hall into his bedroom before he disappears from Oberon’s sight, leaving all that previous warmth to quickly dissipate into the air, snuffed out, and turning the fae’s skin chilly.
He’s. not sure what has him most flabbergasted: the earnest kiss to his hand, or that Mignon stroked his head like some wayward pup.]
Bastard, the hell was that.
[Murmured carefully under the cover of his breath as he slouches, boneless, wings bent at an uncomfortable angle while his mouth twists into a thoughtful frown. Having just sidestepped arousal, he reclines into the couch without shame — beautiful, as Mignon had put it. And the human is correct. The fae come in all variety of containers, should they choose to be perceived at all, and somehow Oberon had lucked into a porcelain figure drawn by the most delicate of pens. Thin-limbed, fair-skinned, washed in pale colors, save for the lightning in his blue eyes.
— A form that’s only marred when too much of his true nature bleeds through, but…
It’s not his appearance he’s struggling with right now, but that the human’s response was to prioritize whatever boundaries he thinks the fairy covets. Which is quite the pity; that cock had looked ready to cut through the man’s sweatpants, and Oberon had been in a strangely benevolent mood. Such a miracle won’t be happening twice. He’s almost disappointed.
Drawing a hand down his bandaged chest, allowing the fingers to float at the edge, then sighing. Quick as the profanities had come, he fixes his tone back into honey while pushing off the couch cushions, ignoring how his body screams in protest:]
I fear you’re not going to find much that will fit me.
[Let’s be real; their differing sizes is to the point of hilarity.]
A linen sheet with suffice, if you have one.
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Don't count me out yet!
Look what I found~! [As if that whole awkward exchange from minutes prior never happened, Mignon happily approaches the couch and sets a few articles of clothing beside Oberon.]
Mm, it's true that these pants will probably fall right off of ya, even with the tie.... [Mignon takes a set of sweatpants with a drawstring at the front and holds them up to Oberon's thin waist, as if to judge the size. As expected- it's probably more trouble than it's worth; their length alone would probably just cause him to trip if he moved around on his own too much. Maybe he could cut them?
Disregarding the pants for now, Mignon tosses them aside and grabs his second option.]
But hey, at least you could wear this! It was a gift from one of the gyms I fought at before.
[Mignon lifts a flashy, bright red hooded shawl of sorts for Oberon to see. It's a lot like the standard boxing robe that many fighters choose to wear for the sake of their dramatic entrances into the ring, except it's more of a long cape than anything. It's even got Mignon's name on the back of it.]
If you wore a cape while you're outside, maybe it could help hide your wings! It's kinda cool, don't you think???
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It’s almost enough to distract from the fact that Mignon has completely recovered once he returns to the living room and now seems to ignore Oberon’s nakedness as if it were an afterthought. What a switch-up; the fae is almost impressed.
But god. The shawl. That robe. His expression pinches from the psychological damage that’s been inflicted upon him, freed wings fluttering their dissatisfaction while he slowly reaches out to test the flimsy fabric between his fingertips. It’s lacking, that’s for sure, nothing compared to the skill of the fae when they feel inclined to one-up humanity with their efforts. More certain than ever that he’ll be insisting on just a simple sheet, please, his dignity has suffered enough—
Oberon sees that strangely energetic expression aimed at him and double downs on a frown]
Never mind my wings; this alone would draw attention to me if I went out dressed like this. [… Eventually grabbing at the boxing robe, his efforts slow and labored as he begins to wind his arms through the sleeves]
Well, it’ll work — maybe — while I’m in your home.
[Just give him a length of cloth to tie around the middle and — yes, it’ll do. He’ll just avoid all mirrors for fear his soul will get trapped away from shame.]
And you — fight? Are you some sort of warrior?
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[Eyes sparkling with barely-concealed delight, Mignon crouches down in front of Oberon and watches him slip into the "Mignon cape" like a proud cat-dad who somehow managed to get their fussy kitty into a handmade sweater.
Something to consider:
Does Oberon really have to wear pants? This is quite the look, after all...]
"Warrior"? [A light chuckle.] Nah, it's just me fighting other dudes for... entertainment? Or like, sports, I guess. -If they even have that sorta thing wherever you're from...
[-Which is probably a good segue into asking the winged man where exactly he is from and what he's doing here. Instead, Mignon beams; his mind following the trail to a completely different question.] ...Why?
Are you gettin' curious about me~?
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[Spoken airly, his arms cresting through the sleeves to fiddle with the robe’s middle portion until it closes shut in some vague semblance of modesty. Given that his wings are currently bunched up underneath, the result is that of a fair-faced hunchback whose swimming in his oversized clothing, but after some sighing, glancing idly behind his shoulder—]
Come now, I should at least be able to— oh, here we are.
[A shimmer of light unfolds along his back before his wings, strangely enough, phase through the fabric as if slits had been cut into the cloth. Once more freed, they flap and unfurl while he tightens the robe closer by his waist, a snugger fit, though grimacing at how his abdomen throbs from all of this unnecessary movement.
But their thoughts seem to be similar - at no point does he demand Mignon fetch him another set of pants to try, when the robe already covers past his knees. This will do. Legs carefully crossed as he sits and settles against the couch, attempting not to jar his body further:]
Oh? For sport? [… Glancing at him, once again taking stock of the other man] Huh, you don’t seem the type into that sort of lifestyle.
[Dislikes pain and enjoys brushing elbows with strange creatures on his late night jogs. Oberon would have anticipated a much more boring life. For as large as he is, the fae can’t imagine this man as much of a beast in a fight, but, well… no one expects him to be anything but a beautiful fairy. Maybe there’s a piece of Mignon that lies as well as he does.]
Well! That aside! Seeing as you’ve housed me, clothed me.
— Shall we discuss payment, then?
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Maybe Mignon shouldn't be surprised, considering what he's seen already. The guy does have wings, after all. But seeing something like that in real life, outside of a movie, is still pretty surreal...
-And almost just as surreal is what Oberon nonchalantly comments about him next. Mignon blinks and his brows raise; surprised by the other's observation of him. That's... the first time that anyone he's spoken to has ever implied that a big oaf like him might be suited for anything but fighting. Mignon isn't quite sure what to think about that at the moment, but for some reason... it strikes a chord.]
Payment? [Mignon cants his head to the side, confused.] Why? I don't need any.
I mean, it seems to me like you're pretty broke right now. How would you even pay me to begin with..?
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Smiling.
Wings humming on his back like they’re going to stir up invisible storm clouds brewing overhead.]
Ah, just look at you, speaking without thinking! Is this is habit of yours?
[— The fae, is perhaps, a little sensitive about his lack of income]
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I’m a little disappointed by this lack of imagination. You’ve a fairy in your house, you know - and you can’t think of anything to ask of me after you’ve taken me off the roads?
[Shrugging a little, a finger reached up to lazily twist into one of his blond locks]
Listen, I know my kind can be a bit… exhausting to deal with, but I like to play nice when I can.
[Which is never.
He hates humanity as easily as he draws breath. Other fairies, at least, can’t help that they’re monstrous; their fates are sealed the moment the world births them, doomed to scripts that cannot be altered. But a human? Their greed and pompous sense of self, the casual way in which they dominate, like it was their given right - it turns the stomach and shoots bile up his throat. Mignon will be no exception.
The only difference here is that Oberon just so happened to come across a human who can be easily fooled, manipulated, and discarded if necessary. So why not offer up a little miracle to keep a pawn in his grip?
Fair’s fair. Summon a demon, and someone will be sacrificed at the altar]
Tell me — do you wish for fortune? Love? Respect? Power? I can give you anything you wish.
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Okay, so, maybe "broke" wasn't the right word for someone in Oberon's... predicament.]
Er, well, sorta.
[He answers the question dumbly; still a bit flustered even after his ear is released. Mignon remains in place; still leaning forward, finding himself in a sort of bow before the man perched up on the couch.]
So you're... a fairy? I thought that those were like, the tiny people with magic wands, that live in grass and wear little tutus and stuff... [Again, he pretty much speaks without thinking; blurting what's on his mind as he imagines a tiny Oberon fluttering around, wearing a frilly dress.
Cute...]
You can grant wishes?
[Mignon blinks; more impressed than anything. But as he thinks the question over, the athlete finds himself drawing a blank. He scratches the back of his head.] Um, sorry but... I don't really know how to answer that.
Until recently, I've never had to think about what I want. [Averting his gaze.] -Or rather... I guess I wasn't really allowed to think it.
So I appreciate it, but I'll pass.
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How sad. You really don’t know what you want?
[The fairy clucks his tongue at this man half-bowed before him like a pauper, cheshire smile alive and well on his expression despite being turned down. It doesn’t sting at his pride; at best, he’ll consider it a minor setback, proof that Mignon might not be worth the effort, but—
No, it’s not even that. Oberon just can’t be bothered to hiss and growl when the human can’t even strum up a wish in the first place. The questions such as statement brings up — I wasn't really allowed to think — are bleak enough to paint their own conclusions. Partly why the fae does not ask them. Besides, if he wanted a sob story, he’d go on the hunt for a 3-penny play. They’re all a dime a dozen.
… Still:]
Then you just need time, yes? [Reaching forward, his index finger pushing at Mignon’s forehead until there’s a bit more space to breathe between them, then dips to trace a faint line along his jaw] To figure out what your soul craves — and lucky for you, I am very patient. Why, I’ll even help you figure out the answer!
[All humans have wishes; Mignon best not insult him by implying otherwise. It’s a matter of twisted principle, now, to insist and push until the human bends to his benevolence.]
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.....
Wait a sec.]
"Time".... [He repeats the word, as a jolt of understanding comes over him all at once.] Yeah, that's it!
You said that I can have anything, right?
[Reaching out, Mignon eagerly grabs hold of the other's hand between his own, leaning forward again.]
I wanna spend more time with you!
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[He.
leans right on back against the couch.
because what the hell.]
Wait, hold on now — [Stumbling over his response, some of that sensual veneer sliding right off his expression, and his gaze bounces between Mignon’s excitement and his hand thoroughly trapped in that eager grip. It’s not even that the human seems determined to erode any space between them — but more the nature of that wish, disgustingly innocent in its request for companionship. Like simply the opportunity to have another in his orbit would satisfy Mignon.
What sort of lonely, cursed star was this human born under?]
— Mignon. I am a fairy. Fairy.
[Throwing his face right back at the other’s, their foreheads momentarily ground against one another.]
What on earth are you going to get out of spending time with me? I could just bewitch you a companion if that’s what you’re after!
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I don't need "a companion"! You're all I want right now.
Because I...
[There's a pause as he hesitates, before finally putting his earlier realization into words.] ...I like you.
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[A touch more honest than he’d normally be; he’ll blame it on the absurdity of the moment. Having long since given up on Mignon having a conniving bone in his body, twisting the man ‘round his finger has already lost its enjoyment, he recognizes, and the irritated huff of breath disrupts both of the bangs.
This man is a fighter? Bullshit he is. Oberon refuses to believe it when this is like entering the ring with a newborn. Grinding his teeth underneath the hands cupped along his jaw, the fae’s shoulders’ eventually drop with a sigh]
Your choice of wish leaves a lot to be desired here— [Calling it as he sees it] … But I don’t get to comment on the quality. I’ll grant you a week of me.
[— A week, to coincide with the time it will take to heal. At the heart of the matter, it’s what Oberon was angling for, anyway: a shelter, until he can reach back into his own soul and wield his magic against anyone who thought him easy prey. Really, when the only hiccup to his plans is a man throwing himself on the sword before the fae can think to double cross him, there really isn’t anything worth complaining about.]
I trust you have no complaints?
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...Well... I'm sure your family and friends back home are probably worried sick about you right now, so... anything more than that wouldn't be good.
[He shouldn't get too greedy. If Mignon pushes him too much, Oberon will probably think he's too overbearing, and decide he's too much trouble to deal with.] ...Thanks for granting my wish.
[Looking down towards the fairy's bandages, Mignon drops his hands from the fae's face and thinks back to what was said to him earlier- about how Oberon would have killed him if possible. Of course, the thought is a bit scary, but considering the state Oberon was in... Mignon feels like he understands.] It sounds like you've had some pretty bad run-ins with humans before.
Are humans... the ones who hurt you? Just because you're a fairy..? [He lightly brushes his fingertips near the area of Oberon's bandaged wound.]
I don't blame you for thinking about defending yourself against me. I can't relate completely, but... I do know what it's like to feel scared and backed into a corner. When things got bad, it made me do something I'm not super proud of...
But maybe fighting back is all you can do sometimes.
[A pause; his expression grim, before his gaze returns to Oberon.] Anyway. I promise not to hurt you, okay?
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You’ve clearly never had an interaction with a fairy before. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so quick to make a promise to one.
[The human realm is one of physicality. The power of the spoken word cannot easily contend with the brute strength of someone who’d simply break you into pieces. But it’s different for the fae; they weave their power from word, from mystics, while regarding the strength of man as nothing more than a garish fumbling of a species with no decorum. Like watching children throw their fists at the earth and expect it to split open for them.
(… never mind the fact that it sometimes works, and it’s exactly why the fae can’t help themselves, on occasion: to strike deals, play along, take a human to their bed, allow their own subjugation. Why, he can think of many fairies who’d love this human painstakingly taking care of him, and would be more than happy to take that promise and noose Mignon like an animal…)
His mouth works into a line, untangling the thought and sighing. His fingers, comically thin when spread over the human’s much broader wrist, loosen, the moment of warning passing.]
Do not feel bad for me, Mignon. I’ve hurt humans as many times as they’ve hurt me. Fair is fair.
[… And then, briskly, eyes flitting away.]
In any case, I’ve no interest in bringing you to harm. You’ve such a bleeding heart, I’m starting to get concerned here. Do you normally just pick up strays and bandage them up? You need to break that habit.
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Oberon certainly seems to think so. He keeps insinuating how dangerous fairy's are, and how naive Mignon is for not thinking through his decision to help him. But would a truly bad person keep making so much effort to give warnings about how bad they are? Despite all of his words of warning and even the display of magic that was shown right before his eyes, Mignon just can't see him as anything but likeable and cute regardless of how dangerous he might be.
Still. Does that necessarily mean Mignon has a "bleeding heart" in general..? No... regardless of what the fairy says, that doesn't seem right at all. This is definitely something unique to Oberon.]
...I don't know if I'm the kind of guy you think I am. I wouldn't just take home anybody.
And, to be fair, I would've called for a real medical professional to pick you up instead if you didn't stop me. I've never done anything like this before, so it's not like I was confident that I could help you, but... something told me that it'd be especially bad for you if I left you alone. Plus... I'm not usually curious about people I meet, but somehow, I was curious about you. Before I knew it, my body just reacted on it's own...
[Thinking back on it now, he bluntly admits-] It's actually pretty weird, huh? I mean, you even made me hard, even though I just met you.
That sort of thing doesn't usually happen to me, but... once again, my body just reacted for some reason.
Maybe I did something dumb. I dunno. [Mignon scratches his head, before shrugging.] I'm not much of a thinker, so picking you up was more like... instinct?
Anyway, considering how you went from wanting to kill me to being "concerned" about me already, I guess my instinct deserves a little credit here, don't you think?
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[The rest of all that? Vaguely irritating in all the ways Oberon doesn’t feel like examining yet, since at least half of Mignon’s response wasn’t the logic of a fool. Really, the nerve of the human, pointing out that his instincts were correct if Oberon’s not even bothering to pretend he’s motivated to kill—
But that random statement about the direction that their previous interaction took… Well, there’s blunt confidence, and then there’s the disastrously bold nonsense of a man with no filter. It’s enough to stun him into silence as the fairy’s jaw works, unsure if he should be annoyed or amazed.]
To think you were being so forthright when you said you liked me… and you still just kept your hands to yourself.
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Guess I'm pretty screwed if that turns out to be the case.
[What are the odds that he'll ever stumble across a delicate-looking, standoffish supernatural man with some sort of difficult past, major trust issues and an ever-so-slight bloodthirsty edge ever again....?
Well. It's probably a little more likely than Mignon thinks, but still.Once this week is up and Oberon is returned back to wherever he came from, will that be the extent of Mignon's short-lived sexual awakening? Will anyone set his mind and body on fire like that again, or will he always find himself strangely uninterested in others?
Before he can dwell too much on that possibility, Oberon speaks again and Mignon blinks; staring a sort of confused, dumbfounded stare.
Is Oberon... complaining... about Mignon keeping his hands to himself earlier?]
...Well, yeah..? I mean...
You literally just got shot.
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Y’know what? Fair enough. It’s not as if he’s explained the details of his anatomy to the man.
It’s why, without preamble, the hand still loosely tied to Mignon’s wrist releases its hold and goes to find purchase in the collar of his shirt, tugging at him with three, short bursts of insistent determination until the space between them once again turns minuscule, enough for Oberon to catch the sundrops of color in Mignon’s eyes. Head tilted, eyes slanted in mischief:]
Well, certainly, if you decided to get rough with me, it’d be a problem, but… a kiss would suffice.
[What]
You seemed so eager, it didn’t strike me as important enough to explain the details, but… [Only barely able to keep the corners of his mouth from pulling into an impish, borderline cruel grin] I’m the type of fairy that can use a human’s energy for sustenance. Helps me heal all the faster! Usually it gathers in one’s bodily fluids, and so…
[Blood. Saliva. Semen. It’s all the same to him. In a pinch, taking a lover isn’t a bad deal; Mignon’s pretty face and impressive physique were not the only reasons Oberon wasn’t against the human pressing him into the couch cushions. He even factored the possibility into his week-long healing. A kiss alone won’t exactly shave off an entire day of rest, but it will not hurt his case, either]
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Wh-- huh??
F-fluids...? [The words all take a moment to fully sink into his thick skull, but once they do, it's like a switched within Mignon's brain is flipped in an instant. Mignon has never heard a single sentence that changed things so much in his entire life.
So basically, if Mignon wants to help Oberon out... It turns out that surrendering to that "instinct" that Mignon felt earlier would have been the right call after all?
Eyes shifting from fluster to desire in an instant, Mignon finds himself taking Oberon's face between his hands. It's different than before, now that Mignon has surrendered to impulse completely. His own eyes go half-lidded as he stares down at Oberon's mouth.] In that case...
I'll give it to you. My energy. [A light, experimental kiss to Oberon's lips. Testing... tasting. Yes... this feels right. He mutters against Oberon's mouth.]
I want you... to take as much as you like.
[He pushes forward to capture Oberon's mouth with his own. It's a bit clumsy at first- all passion with no real experience... But Mignon adjusts quickly. Learning fast, he tilts his head to a better angle and then shoves his tongue forward to properly explore the fae's mouth in earnest; a low groan of appreciation leaving him at the new hot and wet, slippery soft but firm sensations against his tongue.]
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It’ll earn the man a scolding, Oberon decides, until a brush of tongue inside his mouth insists he leave such thoughts for later.
It’s a novice’s kiss - someone with limited experience, graced only by their eagerness. But Oberon chooses to remain pliant for a few beats anyway, offering up the chance for Mignon to explore at his leisure. The human adjusts his passion, tilts his head, massages their mouths together like a man starved of touch, and in response Oberon sighs deeply, a pleased hum escaping him when their noses brush.
Heat pools in his stomach. His tongue tracing against the human’s bottom lip, Oberon pulls back to lick his own lips, eyes opened again, the traces of energy turning the rims of his pupils a violent blue.]
Don’t tell me you’re just going to stand there. [Voice a touch more lightfeathered than he anticipates, pretending that his chest isn’t more quickly drawing in breath. Reaching over, his fingers find a path to Mignon’s elbow, tracing against the muscle of the other’s forearm until he massages the dip right below Mignon’s palm, where he can feel a thundering pulse begin to pick up speed.] Or are you still determined to be a gentleman?
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All they've done is kiss, and Mignon can already feel his arousal rapidly returning. Maybe he pushes a bit too hard at first but he can't help it; chasing after Oberon's mouth as the blond pulls away, and making a low noise of complaint when he escapes. Breathing deeply himself, Mignon realizes that his current crouched position in front of Oberon probably makes him look like even more of a predatory animal than he's starting to feel like, and he catches himself; exhaling shakily as the seductive fae licks him. Those eyes glimmering back at him don't make it any easier for Mignon to pace himself, either. His heartbeat is already going a mile a minute by the time Oberon's finger slides down to feel his pulse.]
...I'm not. [He decides, honestly-] I don't think I know the first thing about being a gentleman.
But... I do wanna try and be careful with you for now, so...
[Dipping low, Mignon goes to scoop Oberon up into his arms bridal-style. If there's going to be 'fluids' transferred from more than just kissing, the least Mignon can do is make sure it takes place somewhere more comfortable than the couch. So, he takes the fae to his bedroom, nudging the already-cracked door open with his foot and carrying Oberon to the bed. Mignon might not have any lavish luxuries in his apartment, but if there was one thing that he was particularly excited to splurge a bit of extra cash on? It's his large mattress. -A far cry than the tiny futon he was once stuck growing on into his adulthood while living with Coach. Nice soft sheets and plenty room to sprawl back on greet Oberon's back as he's laid down gently by the larger man.]
Just promise me a couple things first.
[Mignon pauses to remove his undershirt; stripping himself topless before he crawls over Oberon in bed. His large palm goes to spread Oberon's makeshift 'cloak' open completely as he speaks, before sliding over that cute, pale chest. The sight of those pert little nipples is enough to make his mouth water, but Mignon swallows and continues; just fondling them idly, and ignoring the way his cock twitches for attention within his sweatpants.]
Firstly- Even if you can endure it, you have to tell me if something's hurting you too much, okay?
[Because, at the end of the day, despite Mignon being a considerate enough guy, the difference between his and Oberon's bodies is almost comically obvious. Not to mention the fact that the inexperienced athlete has never exactly been trained in how to do anything with his body besides using it to dominate an opponent in the ring...]
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bless Mignon for his horny math
It's like 'girl math' but worse
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