[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...]
[And here he thought the couch comfortable enough; Oberon would have endured Mignon climbing between his legs and crushing him into the cushions, if that’s where the night led them. There’s energy to collect, and an all-too willing host to keep him company. But he sees no reason to voice a complaint when he’s collected into Mignon’s embrace and then carefully sprawled over a much larger expanse of mattress, dipping that much further down when the human adds his weight to the bed, loomed over him like a mountain blotting out the sun. With that shirt removed, Oberon’s brows arch high in response - taking his time to observe the man less than arm’s length away.
He’s seen his share of humans. Their variety is less impressive than that of the fae, who will take the shape of anything on a whim… But a human is just a human. Arms, legs, a torso, a head; count out every boring finger and toe, it’s all the same.
Much as he’d rather throw Mignon into that same boring pile… it’s difficult when one of those hands spreads large enough to sweep at half of his chest, a bear paw. His nipples fondled to attention, the fae’s eyes flutter, swallowing down a pleased hiss.]
I think I’ve voiced enough complaints already for you to trust my honesty.
[Lips spilling over into a smirk at his own joke. He slips his arms out of their sleeves — silently noting how useless the garment was in the end — and reaches up at last, mimicking Mignon’s explorations by dragging his fingertips along the human’s skin. Reading the ripple of muscle near Mignon’s ribs as if braille, the story of countless hours poured into honing such a body for the spectacle. The other called himself a fighter, and the proof is clear: cut diamond, fat shaved clean from the bone, leaving behind heaving muscle slowly beginning to gather a sheen of sweat.
… Fine. So it is a handsome body, he relents. Worth the attention he’ll be giving to it. Both his hands and eyes wander south in anticipation, nails dragging down the human’s abdomen like he wants to see it jump and tremble underneath.]
Be at ease; you’re not going to hurt me. [Already at the border of those sweatpants, teasing the edge of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger — of course noticing the bulge that’s as lacking in subtlety as Mignon himself. Eyes narrowing in on the sight, but a shame; it will have to sit there twitching for a moment longer.]
Do you have another promise you wish of me? Hurry, before my patience runs dry.
[How could the cape be 'useless' when it's so adorable on Oberon, and also clearly funny?
It's almost a shame when the fae removes it but, well. Mignon can't exactly complain about seeing even a bit more skin. Oberon is seriously gorgeous, and any man would certainly be lucky to be in Mignon's shoes. He almost wonders how many men have been so lucky in the past, but... No- on second thought, that's probably none of Mignon's business. Despite his feelings, this is essentially just a mutually beneficial exchange of sorts between them. A win-win, where Mignon can indulge his newly-awakened sexual curiosity and help Oberon heal at the same time. It's not like they're "real" lovers, after all...
However. That's precisely what brings Mignon to his second request.]
-! Mh... G-good... [He exhales the word; serving as appreciation for both the fact that Oberon (kinda-sorta?) agreed to his terms so far, but mostly for that dainty hand sliding along his hardened muscle. It might not be a bad idea for him to negotiate their 'terms' like this again in the future...
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Mignon groans and his hips twitch at the feeling of nails raking down to the hem of his pants.]
Just... ah... [What was his second request again? Oberon is so distracting that it's nearly wiped from his mind. Hips impatiently twitch forward on their own to make a futile attempt at thrusting against Oberon's wandering hand; his body sensitive. As his erection only swells up larger and harder, drawing his bloodflow down far away from his brain, Mignon has to shake his head as if to clear it.]
O-obviously, you can go wherever, and do whatever you want once you're feeling better, but...
...While you're here this week... [Rough, callouses fingers experimentally give the fae's nipple a squeeze. It seems like Oberon liked being touched here...
Mignon follows the other's lead, and uses his free hand to squeeze directly between Oberon's legs, groping him firmly. He watches Oberon's face and body closely; taking in every reaction.]
Let me be the the only one 'feeding you energy' like this.
And Oberon’s hands still for it, accidentally relinquishing the “lead” to Mignon when there is suddenly a very rude hand positioned between his legs and still on his chest, those large fingers squeezing him with such pointedness that the fae’s head snaps backwards into the mattress with a strangled grunt. Goddamnit all—]
I did not— [Pausing. Struggling to string together a coherent sentence that won’t embarrass him further. His brows twitch and his body squirms, and it’s a coin toss between arousal or irritation at having lost his footing.] — did not take you for the possessive sort.
[Having to drag in an inhale, a veiled attempt to keep his chest from fluttering, and it only half-works when Mignon’s free to fondle him. His hips flex, rutting upward to turn that grip into a slow, deliberate stroke. The human’s eyes are on him — ready to learn in how many ways he might squeeze out another note of pleasure from him, the fairy assumes — and maybe that’s not how he quite imagined this going, when he’d been ready to noose Mignon by the cock and perhaps tease the man to his breaking point…]
You’ve some nerve, asking me that when I’m frail and helpless.
[— Is it technically a lie when his mystics are locked away and he’s sporting a bullet wound? Clearly Mignon just needs to ignore every other moment when Oberon has insinuated that he’d behead the human for so much as looking at him funny, or snarled at him like a wild animal, or nearly pulled his ear off, or—]
Mm, very well… I’ll accept only your energy. [Huffing out a breath between his teeth, ignoring the gathering heat that weaves up his neck and splotches his pale chest. It isn’t true affection — they’re both well aware — so Oberon sees no reason to play at this like he’s signing off his autonomy. The weight of the promise is diminished by virtue of that time limit. Seeing as he never planned to take another human lover in the first place…
Fingers finding their energy renewed, Oberon pulls down the hem of Mignon’s sweatpants at last — over that visible hump until a half-hardened cock that’d been tucked into the fabric is freed for his inspection — and still irritable, the grip his fingers take are hardly gentle. A rough stroke, thumb already swiping at the head, pressing into the slit until a gathering of pre-cum wets the pad of his finger.
His eyes narrowed in on Mignon’s face like he expects to be well compensated for his work.]
['Possessive'..? Mignon has never thought of himself that way. But he's also never been in this position before, so... yeah. Sounds about right.
He doesn't deny the other's assessment of him; merely tweaking Oberon's nipple again as he waits for an agreement. It's... unexpectedly fun, actually, to tease the grumpy fae like this.]
Pff- [Unable to help it, a warm burst of laughter erupts from Mignon as Oberon huffs out a complaint. 'Frail and helpless', huh?] Is that what you are now...?
[As thick-headed as he is, Mignon obviously isn't buying it. He continues to tease Oberon's nipples and only very slowly rub his cock until finally Oberon gives a straight answer, and Mignon grins triumphantly. Leaning in, he gives another kiss to Oberon's lips instead of verbalizing a direct response; expressing his satisfaction through action instead of words. Oberon is rewarded for his compliance with an immediate increase in the speed of his hand as he strokes the fae's pretty cock in earnest.
It's genuinely becoming addicting already to see Oberon 'break' into an involuntary moan. For as long as he can remember, Mignon has only ever had the ability to hurt others. Nothing else seemed possible, because he had been taught (conditioned) repeatedly to believe that he'd never be good at anything else.
But if that's really true, then why does Oberon look like he's feeling so good? With these same big, indelicate, 'dangerous' hands, Mignon is able to make even the obviously-experienced fae moan in out in pleasure...
It's funny how Oberon is supposed to be the one feeding off of Mignon, and yet here Mignon is lapping up Oberon's pleasure with his eyes; taking all of the fae's arousal into himself like a sponge to water. Every sound he pulls from Oberon's throat adds fire to his veins; every arch and writhe becomes Mignon's salvation--]
Gh- Ahn...!
[-Until Oberon launches his own 'counter'-attack', and the athlete breaks their kiss to let out a surprised moan. It should come as no surprise that, by the time Oberon gets his pants lowered, Mignon is already quite hard and practically drooling from the head of his heavy cock. His inexperience is on full display when he hardens within Oberon's merciless grip so impressively fast that it nearly hurts him; his own pace faltering for a moment as he finds himself overwhelmed by the first touch of a foreign hand around himself. He furrows his eyes and whimpers; his swollen red tip targeted at it's most sensitive spot, and for a moment it almost seems as if he forgets to move. But after a deep breath, Mignon opens his eyes again and glares down at Oberon with newfound competitiveness and desire behind his gaze. Leaning in again, Mignon opens his mouth- not to kiss Oberon, but to deliver a lick up the side of the fae's throat, before delivering a very possessive bite to his slender neck. He continues to lick, kiss and nibble at the fae as he fights through his own pleasure to keep touching Oberon despite the fact that he's admittedly dangerously close to climaxing much earlier than anticipated. Still, he'll fight as hard as he can to get Oberon there first... or, at the very least, along with him.]
[Watching Mignon groan and stutter in place when Oberon starts playing with his cock draws out mirthful laughter, a bell of dark satisfaction to hang in the air, mingled with the heat and sweat. The poor man looks like the fae took a knife between his ribs and left him a trembling mess on the verge of orgasm. Such a sight. Normally his human lovers are so enamored with their good fortune at finding a fairy, that they simply let Oberon bully and abuse them as he pleases; it’s a much rarer play when he finds someone almost stubbornly set to making him come.
— And then of course, as if to give that unbidden thought further weight, there is the sudden shock of teeth sinking into the meat of his neck when the bastard lunges forward like a canine, turning Oberon’s amusement into a blinding red heat. Maybe he curses. Or moans. It’s hard to tell which. Only that he arches his back, wings twitching, while that sound escapes him, dredged up from the bottom of his throat like a lone pearl pulled from the wreckage, and Mignon will be paying for that.
The hand still clutched around Mignon’s member twitches before renewing its efforts, his fingers slicked with precome and gliding up, down, up, down — squeezing with force meant to pump Mignon dry if the human doesn’t concentrate on holding back. It’s turn into war, a race to see who trips the other up at the finish line — and he feels his own heart stuttering to an uneven beat of pleasure as Mignon doubles down as well, stroking him from the tip to his balls in fast, excited gestures, muscles clenching in excitement, until—]
— No, stop.
[Abrupt, his head tilted so that his words brush at the shell of the human’s ear, even as the other licks and nibbles bruises into his neck]
This won’t do, you know. [Chest openly panting now - the smallest confession offered, proof that for an inexperienced human, he certainly got the fae’s blood pumping.] You’ll just waste it all.
[… He mentioned the energy he needed was collected in bodily fluids, did he not? Perhaps there wasn’t any further elaboration, but that fact hasn’t changed. This surprising power play isn’t the direction he wants this to go tonight, when his wound is still fresh and his prospects for freedom are all too limited.
— He’s distracting, for a human. Almost irritatingly so. All the more reason Oberon knows it best to keep his sense about him.
Smiling, his teeth shine like pearls - or perhaps a feline’s teeth. The hand not busy drawing a finger along the pulsing veins of Mignon’s erection comes up to twist and play in the human’s hair, curling strands between his fingers]
Well? Are you coming up, or am I going down? Where shall my mouth go?
[Nipping, sucking and licking at Oberon's skin until he can leave his mark behind is somehow deeply satisfying in a way that Mignon himself can't explain, so it only revs him up even more to hear how the fae responds to it. Precum drips from his own cock and his hips thrust into Oberon's grip on their own as he moans against now-bruised flesh and continues gnawing against the other...]
-! [But when he's told to stop, he stops. very reluctantly. A complaining groan rumbles from his throat almost like a growl; his brain hazy as he goes rigid and tries to regain his focus.] Rgh...
What're you...? [He almost forgot about the 'point' of this entirely, being as close to the edge of a climax as he is. But once Oberon forcefully yanks Mignon's head up out of the crook of his neck and grins, a wave of understanding hits Mignon all at once, causing him to gasp sharply and his brows to raise in surprise. Somehow, Mignon... didn't actually think about the act of how he'd be delivering his 'fluids' to the other.] ...Oh...
[Snapped out of his horny haze, Mignon's eyes flick down to Oberon's lips and a shudder runs down his spine. Is such a small, pretty mouth... really going to be wrapped around something like that? Such an angelic-looking guy being made to suck Mignon's oppressively large cock almost feels wrong... And yet, Mignon's virgin body reacts honestly to the prospect; jumping and throbbing against Oberon's hand as the other draws another shiver out of him with dexterous fingers. Mignon has to reach down and stop Oberon's hand from pushing him any closer to orgasm.] W-wait...
I'll go up... so you don't have to move... [Panting for breath, shifts to remove himself up; crawling higher above Oberon's body until he's straddling Oberon's chest; knees adjacent to Oberon's shoulders. Mignon looks down at the fae with a deep blush on his face, watching as his sizeable cock hovers and sways above Oberon's mouth.]
[The obscenity isn’t lost on him: his shoulders pinched between Mignon’s knees and that large erection looming inches away from him face, the cock standing at attention despite gravity attempting to weigh it down. Trapped in place with his head haloed by hair so pale, it surrounds his face like a glow of light, and it’s probably a small miracle Mignon hasn’t accidentally come on him. His hands somewhat pinned by his sides as well, it means there’s only one method left at his disposal.]
If that’s what you like. [Reply a wave of moist heat that brushes directly over the erection’s head, and he does not hide the smirk in his voice when another dribble of precome starts pooling at the tip. Close enough for him to lean forward, lick it clean, if he truly wanted. The human’s going to leak all over if he doesn’t get the show on the road, otherwise, but—]
Ah… You’ll have to help me, Mignon.
[The picture of fake innocence. Batted eyelashes and a little squirm upon the mattress, as if the very effort of moving when the human’s body looms overhead is too much for the fairy to bear. Yet even still, his “trapped” hands raise, tracing up and down along the back of Mignon’s thighs — quietly impressed that even here, all he can find is honed muscle tensing under his touch.
A gentle, insistent tap. Pushing at those legs dutifully keeping the bulk of Mignon’s frame from bearing down on him and burying into a waiting mouth. Again, his voice comes out a whisper of breath, watching the erection twitch.] Come now… If you don’t at least angle it down, we’ll never finish.
[Lifting his gaze to that reddened face, ensuring that Mignon cannot escape the challenge that glows like an ember behind the glass of his blue eyes. Go on then. The other claimed he was no gentleman, and Oberon’s giving him clearance to take his pleasure by the head, as it were. All in spirited debauchery. He’ll even consider it Mignon’s reward for his surprising hospitality.]
[That last sentence has Mignon swallowing hard in his throat; the muscles of his abdomen tensing and flexing with each deepened breath. Damn it... Nothing has even happened yet, other than the ghost of Oberon's voice wafting against his cock, and Mignon already feels like he's about to lose it. And yeah- "losing it" is sort of the point here, but would Mignon look too lame if he were to burst at first contact??
Given an impatient tap, Mignon lowers himself obediently; the visual of his own cock angled across Oberon's face painting a rather obscene visual in itself, given the fact that his dick is easily casting a shadow the entire length of Oberon's head. As he thrusts shallowly, Mignon misjudges the angle in his nervousness and merely rubs the underside of his cock against Oberon's soft lips at first, smearing them with precum, and the muscles of his thighs squeeze tight in an effort to control that familiar feeling of an impending orgasm churning in his balls already.]
Ngh, s-sorry.... [He's not even sure what he's apologizing for. Getting Oberon's mouth messy? Being unable to help enjoying this too much? The fact that his dick is almost rudely-sized for this kind of thing? Whatever the cause may be, heavy guilt and even heavier arousal swirl within him as he moves to take hold of Oberon by the head to steady himself; fingers tensing within that soft blond hair as he pushes his twitching cock into Oberon's mouth- successfully this time.]
Fuck...! [The curse is more of a whimper as his hips stutter; almost afraid to move as the wet heat overwhelms him. He's tempted to look away, but there's an almost challenging glint within the eyes of the one below him that almost seems to be keeping his gaze prisoner.]
Ughn... Oberon... [He moans the name helplessly as his grip on the fae's head tightens and he thrusts deeper into that hot mouth; hips starting to move on their own to stuff it full.] W-wai-- I can't, it's... too good...!
[Oberon isn’t sure what’s more absurd: that Mignon, in his nervousness, somehow misses the goal and simply scrapes his cock along the fae’s top lip, or the stuttered apology that follows and has the human’s face glowing like an ember in its embarrassment.
Regardless, the stare he serves the man is borderline flat, unimpressed — a brow arched as he idly skims his lip to catch all traces of the precome that’d been rudely applied there. Faintly salty; a taste he’s hardly in love with but also doesn’t mind when there’s energy to harvest. He’s swallowed worse. And Mignon brims with the energy of a young stud pushed to his boiling point. Holding back a snort, he opens his mouth again, prepared to tell Mignon he needn’t be so shy about this, especially not when the fae is the one urging him to drive his hips forward—
And of course that’s when Mignon decides he’s found his courage, his sense of aim, a hand sliding into the tendrils of Oberon’s hair to hold him steady. The mushroom head of the other’s cock presses past his lips, nearly scrapes against the fairy’s molars until he coaches himself to open his mouth all the wider — alright, much wider, his already aching jaw scolds him — hollowing out the space until the only sensation left is a heat and sin. Mouth filled and automatically sucking on the organ, tongue finding a large vein to trace and tease, coaxing the blood to flow all the more—
The human groans, helpless as his hips pump forward, and despite himself, Oberon groans too. When his fingers turn to claws, digging into the skin of Mignon’s thighs, it isn’t a reprimand. The fae’s eyes have taken on an unholy glow of greed, until concentration demands he closes them — head bobbed to keep in tune with Mignon pumping so far into his mouth, he can feel the tip pushing up near his throat, like the human is already prepared to make him swallow.]
Edited (wow I forgot to use an icon) 2025-06-01 06:23 (UTC)
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no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
.....
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!
no subject
[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!
no subject
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?
no subject
...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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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...]
no subject
He’s seen his share of humans. Their variety is less impressive than that of the fae, who will take the shape of anything on a whim… But a human is just a human. Arms, legs, a torso, a head; count out every boring finger and toe, it’s all the same.
Much as he’d rather throw Mignon into that same boring pile… it’s difficult when one of those hands spreads large enough to sweep at half of his chest, a bear paw. His nipples fondled to attention, the fae’s eyes flutter, swallowing down a pleased hiss.]
I think I’ve voiced enough complaints already for you to trust my honesty.
[Lips spilling over into a smirk at his own joke. He slips his arms out of their sleeves — silently noting how useless the garment was in the end — and reaches up at last, mimicking Mignon’s explorations by dragging his fingertips along the human’s skin. Reading the ripple of muscle near Mignon’s ribs as if braille, the story of countless hours poured into honing such a body for the spectacle. The other called himself a fighter, and the proof is clear: cut diamond, fat shaved clean from the bone, leaving behind heaving muscle slowly beginning to gather a sheen of sweat.
… Fine. So it is a handsome body, he relents. Worth the attention he’ll be giving to it. Both his hands and eyes wander south in anticipation, nails dragging down the human’s abdomen like he wants to see it jump and tremble underneath.]
Be at ease; you’re not going to hurt me. [Already at the border of those sweatpants, teasing the edge of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger — of course noticing the bulge that’s as lacking in subtlety as Mignon himself. Eyes narrowing in on the sight, but a shame; it will have to sit there twitching for a moment longer.]
Do you have another promise you wish of me? Hurry, before my patience runs dry.
no subject
It's almost a shame when the fae removes it but, well. Mignon can't exactly complain about seeing even a bit more skin. Oberon is seriously gorgeous, and any man would certainly be lucky to be in Mignon's shoes. He almost wonders how many men have been so lucky in the past, but... No- on second thought, that's probably none of Mignon's business. Despite his feelings, this is essentially just a mutually beneficial exchange of sorts between them. A win-win, where Mignon can indulge his newly-awakened sexual curiosity and help Oberon heal at the same time. It's not like they're "real" lovers, after all...
However. That's precisely what brings Mignon to his second request.]
-! Mh... G-good... [He exhales the word; serving as appreciation for both the fact that Oberon (kinda-sorta?) agreed to his terms so far, but mostly for that dainty hand sliding along his hardened muscle. It might not be a bad idea for him to negotiate their 'terms' like this again in the future...
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Mignon groans and his hips twitch at the feeling of nails raking down to the hem of his pants.]
Just... ah... [What was his second request again? Oberon is so distracting that it's nearly wiped from his mind. Hips impatiently twitch forward on their own to make a futile attempt at thrusting against Oberon's wandering hand; his body sensitive. As his erection only swells up larger and harder, drawing his bloodflow down far away from his brain, Mignon has to shake his head as if to clear it.]
O-obviously, you can go wherever, and do whatever you want once you're feeling better, but...
...While you're here this week... [Rough, callouses fingers experimentally give the fae's nipple a squeeze. It seems like Oberon liked being touched here...
Mignon follows the other's lead, and uses his free hand to squeeze directly between Oberon's legs, groping him firmly. He watches Oberon's face and body closely; taking in every reaction.]
Let me be the the only one 'feeding you energy' like this.
Promise...?
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And Oberon’s hands still for it, accidentally relinquishing the “lead” to Mignon when there is suddenly a very rude hand positioned between his legs and still on his chest, those large fingers squeezing him with such pointedness that the fae’s head snaps backwards into the mattress with a strangled grunt. Goddamnit all—]
I did not— [Pausing. Struggling to string together a coherent sentence that won’t embarrass him further. His brows twitch and his body squirms, and it’s a coin toss between arousal or irritation at having lost his footing.] — did not take you for the possessive sort.
[Having to drag in an inhale, a veiled attempt to keep his chest from fluttering, and it only half-works when Mignon’s free to fondle him. His hips flex, rutting upward to turn that grip into a slow, deliberate stroke. The human’s eyes are on him — ready to learn in how many ways he might squeeze out another note of pleasure from him, the fairy assumes — and maybe that’s not how he quite imagined this going, when he’d been ready to noose Mignon by the cock and perhaps tease the man to his breaking point…]
You’ve some nerve, asking me that when I’m frail and helpless.
[— Is it technically a lie when his mystics are locked away and he’s sporting a bullet wound? Clearly Mignon just needs to ignore every other moment when Oberon has insinuated that he’d behead the human for so much as looking at him funny, or snarled at him like a wild animal, or nearly pulled his ear off, or—]
Mm, very well… I’ll accept only your energy. [Huffing out a breath between his teeth, ignoring the gathering heat that weaves up his neck and splotches his pale chest. It isn’t true affection — they’re both well aware — so Oberon sees no reason to play at this like he’s signing off his autonomy. The weight of the promise is diminished by virtue of that time limit. Seeing as he never planned to take another human lover in the first place…
Fingers finding their energy renewed, Oberon pulls down the hem of Mignon’s sweatpants at last — over that visible hump until a half-hardened cock that’d been tucked into the fabric is freed for his inspection — and still irritable, the grip his fingers take are hardly gentle. A rough stroke, thumb already swiping at the head, pressing into the slit until a gathering of pre-cum wets the pad of his finger.
His eyes narrowed in on Mignon’s face like he expects to be well compensated for his work.]
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He doesn't deny the other's assessment of him; merely tweaking Oberon's nipple again as he waits for an agreement. It's... unexpectedly fun, actually, to tease the grumpy fae like this.]
Pff- [Unable to help it, a warm burst of laughter erupts from Mignon as Oberon huffs out a complaint. 'Frail and helpless', huh?] Is that what you are now...?
[As thick-headed as he is, Mignon obviously isn't buying it. He continues to tease Oberon's nipples and only very slowly rub his cock until finally Oberon gives a straight answer, and Mignon grins triumphantly. Leaning in, he gives another kiss to Oberon's lips instead of verbalizing a direct response; expressing his satisfaction through action instead of words. Oberon is rewarded for his compliance with an immediate increase in the speed of his hand as he strokes the fae's pretty cock in earnest.
It's genuinely becoming addicting already to see Oberon 'break' into an involuntary moan. For as long as he can remember, Mignon has only ever had the ability to hurt others. Nothing else seemed possible, because he had been taught (conditioned) repeatedly to believe that he'd never be good at anything else.
But if that's really true, then why does Oberon look like he's feeling so good? With these same big, indelicate, 'dangerous' hands, Mignon is able to make even the obviously-experienced fae moan in out in pleasure...
It's funny how Oberon is supposed to be the one feeding off of Mignon, and yet here Mignon is lapping up Oberon's pleasure with his eyes; taking all of the fae's arousal into himself like a sponge to water. Every sound he pulls from Oberon's throat adds fire to his veins; every arch and writhe becomes Mignon's salvation--]
Gh- Ahn...!
[-Until Oberon launches his own 'counter'-attack', and the athlete breaks their kiss to let out a surprised moan. It should come as no surprise that, by the time Oberon gets his pants lowered, Mignon is already quite hard and practically drooling from the head of his heavy cock. His inexperience is on full display when he hardens within Oberon's merciless grip so impressively fast that it nearly hurts him; his own pace faltering for a moment as he finds himself overwhelmed by the first touch of a foreign hand around himself. He furrows his eyes and whimpers; his swollen red tip targeted at it's most sensitive spot, and for a moment it almost seems as if he forgets to move. But after a deep breath, Mignon opens his eyes again and glares down at Oberon with newfound competitiveness and desire behind his gaze. Leaning in again, Mignon opens his mouth- not to kiss Oberon, but to deliver a lick up the side of the fae's throat, before delivering a very possessive bite to his slender neck. He continues to lick, kiss and nibble at the fae as he fights through his own pleasure to keep touching Oberon despite the fact that he's admittedly dangerously close to climaxing much earlier than anticipated. Still, he'll fight as hard as he can to get Oberon there first... or, at the very least, along with him.]
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— And then of course, as if to give that unbidden thought further weight, there is the sudden shock of teeth sinking into the meat of his neck when the bastard lunges forward like a canine, turning Oberon’s amusement into a blinding red heat. Maybe he curses. Or moans. It’s hard to tell which. Only that he arches his back, wings twitching, while that sound escapes him, dredged up from the bottom of his throat like a lone pearl pulled from the wreckage, and Mignon will be paying for that.
The hand still clutched around Mignon’s member twitches before renewing its efforts, his fingers slicked with precome and gliding up, down, up, down — squeezing with force meant to pump Mignon dry if the human doesn’t concentrate on holding back. It’s turn into war, a race to see who trips the other up at the finish line — and he feels his own heart stuttering to an uneven beat of pleasure as Mignon doubles down as well, stroking him from the tip to his balls in fast, excited gestures, muscles clenching in excitement, until—]
— No, stop.
[Abrupt, his head tilted so that his words brush at the shell of the human’s ear, even as the other licks and nibbles bruises into his neck]
This won’t do, you know. [Chest openly panting now - the smallest confession offered, proof that for an inexperienced human, he certainly got the fae’s blood pumping.] You’ll just waste it all.
[… He mentioned the energy he needed was collected in bodily fluids, did he not? Perhaps there wasn’t any further elaboration, but that fact hasn’t changed. This surprising power play isn’t the direction he wants this to go tonight, when his wound is still fresh and his prospects for freedom are all too limited.
— He’s distracting, for a human. Almost irritatingly so. All the more reason Oberon knows it best to keep his sense about him.
Smiling, his teeth shine like pearls - or perhaps a feline’s teeth. The hand not busy drawing a finger along the pulsing veins of Mignon’s erection comes up to twist and play in the human’s hair, curling strands between his fingers]
Well? Are you coming up, or am I going down? Where shall my mouth go?
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[Nipping, sucking and licking at Oberon's skin until he can leave his mark behind is somehow deeply satisfying in a way that Mignon himself can't explain, so it only revs him up even more to hear how the fae responds to it. Precum drips from his own cock and his hips thrust into Oberon's grip on their own as he moans against now-bruised flesh and continues gnawing against the other...]
-! [But when he's told to stop, he stops. very reluctantly. A complaining groan rumbles from his throat almost like a growl; his brain hazy as he goes rigid and tries to regain his focus.] Rgh...
What're you...? [He almost forgot about the 'point' of this entirely, being as close to the edge of a climax as he is. But once Oberon forcefully yanks Mignon's head up out of the crook of his neck and grins, a wave of understanding hits Mignon all at once, causing him to gasp sharply and his brows to raise in surprise. Somehow, Mignon... didn't actually think about the act of how he'd be delivering his 'fluids' to the other.] ...Oh...
[Snapped out of his horny haze, Mignon's eyes flick down to Oberon's lips and a shudder runs down his spine. Is such a small, pretty mouth... really going to be wrapped around something like that? Such an angelic-looking guy being made to suck Mignon's oppressively large cock almost feels wrong... And yet, Mignon's virgin body reacts honestly to the prospect; jumping and throbbing against Oberon's hand as the other draws another shiver out of him with dexterous fingers. Mignon has to reach down and stop Oberon's hand from pushing him any closer to orgasm.] W-wait...
I'll go up... so you don't have to move... [Panting for breath, shifts to remove himself up; crawling higher above Oberon's body until he's straddling Oberon's chest; knees adjacent to Oberon's shoulders. Mignon looks down at the fae with a deep blush on his face, watching as his sizeable cock hovers and sways above Oberon's mouth.]
Is this okay...?
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If that’s what you like. [Reply a wave of moist heat that brushes directly over the erection’s head, and he does not hide the smirk in his voice when another dribble of precome starts pooling at the tip. Close enough for him to lean forward, lick it clean, if he truly wanted. The human’s going to leak all over if he doesn’t get the show on the road, otherwise, but—]
Ah… You’ll have to help me, Mignon.
[The picture of fake innocence. Batted eyelashes and a little squirm upon the mattress, as if the very effort of moving when the human’s body looms overhead is too much for the fairy to bear. Yet even still, his “trapped” hands raise, tracing up and down along the back of Mignon’s thighs — quietly impressed that even here, all he can find is honed muscle tensing under his touch.
A gentle, insistent tap. Pushing at those legs dutifully keeping the bulk of Mignon’s frame from bearing down on him and burying into a waiting mouth. Again, his voice comes out a whisper of breath, watching the erection twitch.] Come now… If you don’t at least angle it down, we’ll never finish.
[Lifting his gaze to that reddened face, ensuring that Mignon cannot escape the challenge that glows like an ember behind the glass of his blue eyes. Go on then. The other claimed he was no gentleman, and Oberon’s giving him clearance to take his pleasure by the head, as it were. All in spirited debauchery. He’ll even consider it Mignon’s reward for his surprising hospitality.]
Go on… you needn’t be that gentle.
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Given an impatient tap, Mignon lowers himself obediently; the visual of his own cock angled across Oberon's face painting a rather obscene visual in itself, given the fact that his dick is easily casting a shadow the entire length of Oberon's head. As he thrusts shallowly, Mignon misjudges the angle in his nervousness and merely rubs the underside of his cock against Oberon's soft lips at first, smearing them with precum, and the muscles of his thighs squeeze tight in an effort to control that familiar feeling of an impending orgasm churning in his balls already.]
Ngh, s-sorry.... [He's not even sure what he's apologizing for. Getting Oberon's mouth messy? Being unable to help enjoying this too much? The fact that his dick is almost rudely-sized for this kind of thing? Whatever the cause may be, heavy guilt and even heavier arousal swirl within him as he moves to take hold of Oberon by the head to steady himself; fingers tensing within that soft blond hair as he pushes his twitching cock into Oberon's mouth- successfully this time.]
Fuck...! [The curse is more of a whimper as his hips stutter; almost afraid to move as the wet heat overwhelms him. He's tempted to look away, but there's an almost challenging glint within the eyes of the one below him that almost seems to be keeping his gaze prisoner.]
Ughn... Oberon... [He moans the name helplessly as his grip on the fae's head tightens and he thrusts deeper into that hot mouth; hips starting to move on their own to stuff it full.] W-wai-- I can't, it's... too good...!
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Regardless, the stare he serves the man is borderline flat, unimpressed — a brow arched as he idly skims his lip to catch all traces of the precome that’d been rudely applied there. Faintly salty; a taste he’s hardly in love with but also doesn’t mind when there’s energy to harvest. He’s swallowed worse. And Mignon brims with the energy of a young stud pushed to his boiling point. Holding back a snort, he opens his mouth again, prepared to tell Mignon he needn’t be so shy about this, especially not when the fae is the one urging him to drive his hips forward—
And of course that’s when Mignon decides he’s found his courage, his sense of aim, a hand sliding into the tendrils of Oberon’s hair to hold him steady. The mushroom head of the other’s cock presses past his lips, nearly scrapes against the fairy’s molars until he coaches himself to open his mouth all the wider — alright, much wider, his already aching jaw scolds him — hollowing out the space until the only sensation left is a heat and sin. Mouth filled and automatically sucking on the organ, tongue finding a large vein to trace and tease, coaxing the blood to flow all the more—
The human groans, helpless as his hips pump forward, and despite himself, Oberon groans too. When his fingers turn to claws, digging into the skin of Mignon’s thighs, it isn’t a reprimand. The fae’s eyes have taken on an unholy glow of greed, until concentration demands he closes them — head bobbed to keep in tune with Mignon pumping so far into his mouth, he can feel the tip pushing up near his throat, like the human is already prepared to make him swallow.]
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bless Mignon for his horny math
It's like 'girl math' but worse
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