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ROUND FOUR >> Rules post. Flat view. Updates Post (WIPs only) Fills Post (completed Fills only) damalur's
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will be writ on the morrow
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“Well?” he inquired, after a long moment.
“It . . . appears as if there’s no one there,” Charles responded, sounding puzzled.
Glancing at the door, which held a very emphatic ‘CLOSED’ sign, Erik shrugged one shoulder. “Yes?”
“But I could have sworn I felt someone - something - and - oh, Erik,” Charles murmured in a voice that Erik refused to admit thrilled him, “it was strong. Let’s go inside ( ... )
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It was lust.
Charles’s hand, palm clammy, found his own, and slowly they walked towards the back room, drawn like magnets. As they walked they drew closer to one another, not out of fear but out of need. Erik’s hand wrapped around Charles’s waist, petting his hip gently, as Charles’s fingers twisted in Erik’s hair. Every square inch of skin sang out at the tension, until they turned the corner and saw -
“Oh god,” whispered Charles, eyes shining wide in awe, licking his lips, his lips, his mouth -
Erik couldn’t say what they were, but he knew they weren’t human - not the way the dark one with the sunglasses was twisting, writhing, not with the words he was saying, neither English nor German nor any language Erik had ever heard, deep and hissing and old. Erik knew in his soul that the man fucking him was older than time; he was undone ( ... )
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When they kissed, Charles shook, and when Erik pressed his tongue into Charles’s mouth, fucking his lips gently, Charles spasmed, back arching.
“Did you just - “ Erik gasped into his mouth.
The man on top cried out, burying his face in the dark one’s hair.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Charles panted, “do it again, don’t bloody stopAnd Erik pressed him to the wall, marveling distantly at how easy it was to overpower him; pressed his hips to Charles’s, rocked in the rhythm of the two fucking behind Charles’s head. Feverishly, he sucked on his fingers, reached down the back of Charles’s pants, and stroked desperately at the cleft of his arse ( ... )
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“They broke my door,” the one called Aziraphale said peevishly. “It’ll cost - well, it’ll cost money to get it fixed, anyway ( ... )
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