Every thing and just a little more - Secondo/Alpha
Pairing: Alpha/Secondo
Summary: This was meant to be for the Ghostober boot kink prompt but I got writer's block. Warnings for spit, fluids, boot licking, face slapping.
Word Count: 3k
Banners by @cafekitsune
[AO3 Link]
“Do you know what I see when I look at you like this?”
It was a soft, almost velvet purr, but Alpha could hear the venom laced beneath. The hand that had been buried in his hair, softly stroking the strands, tugged, just enough to make him lift his head, to force their eyes to meet.
"A wolf who pretends to bare his fangs at me, but, no…" Secondo tilted his head, trailing off in thought, his smirk sharpening into something more cruel, "Just another dog waiting for orders with his tail between his legs."
Secondo was lounging deep into the chair, an ornate thing, plush and comfortable. His posture was lazy but commanding, freshly polished leather boots that reached his knees planted firmly on the floor, legs spread wide, waiting.
The stem of a wine glass rested elegantly between his fingers, crimson liquid catching the low light each time he tipped it to his mouth. He sipped with an unhurried relish, eyes never straying far from the ghoul on the floor before him.
Alpha was knelt obediently between his thighs, stripped bare for his Papa, the dim candle light cutting across pale skin, accentuating the tension held in his shoulders, mapping the scars that covered his body like filigree.
His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed downward, but his body was what betrayed him with each tick of the old clock perched on the wall; hard already, dripping slick beads of pre that caught the light, glistening trails along the veins of his cock.
"You know your place well, don't you?" Another tug of fingers in his hair, tighter, nails scraping Alpha's scalp in an almost soothing gesture, enough to make his breath stutter, "Obedient little thing," the touch softened again as Secondo leaned forward, his voice a low timbre against Alpha's ear, "On your knees where you belong."
Alpha’s throat worked before he nodded, a barely perceptible motion, but enough. The smallest hint of obedience earned him the faintest hum of approval.
“Good,” Secondo whispered, setting the glass aside with a soft click against wood. He leaned forward until the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of smoke and cedar, filled the space between them.
Secondo’s thumb traced the line of Alpha’s jaw, studying him like an artist deciding where the next stroke of paint should fall, lingering there before drifting to the corner of his mouth, “You want to please me,” he said, almost kindly, though there was nothing gentle in the way his words landed. It was spoken almost like it was a statement, “That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”
Alpha swallowed, lips parting on a breath that wasn’t quite a yes but wasn’t a no either. Another nod.
“That’s what I thought.”
Secondo let his hand fall away, resting it under Alpha’s chin to tilt his face upward, forcing eye contact.
For a long, unbroken moment, neither spoke. Only the soft sound of breathing, the distant hum of the night outside the ministry, and the slow, steady pulse of something unspoken between them.
"Now, show me what you want."
At the sound of Secondo's approval, Alpha shuffled himself forward, knees already beginning to ache against the solid wood floors beneath him. He nosed slowly along Secondo's bare thigh, inhaling deeply, the thick hairs tickling against his nose as he let out a shaky sigh at his familiar scent. His tail flicked behind him restlessly; in anticipation or nervousness, he wasn't sure.
He tilted his head, parting his lips, brushing them against the side of Secondo's cock, a warm breath against warmer skin, and Secondo sank further back into the chair, a quiet sigh leaving his throat as Alpha's lips worked along his length, coaxing him to hardness.
Secondo hummed approvingly, the sound soft but dripping with condescension. His thumb brushed across Alpha’s cheek as if in reward, “Beautiful,” he said, voice dipped in poison-tinged sweetness, “Your mouth feels much nicer like this, quiet, none of that unnecessary snapping that you like to posture like an ill-mannered mutt."
Alpha’s jaw set, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened at the back-handed praise, the way his cock twitched against his thigh. His pride was always there, simmering under the surface, but Secondo knew exactly how to needle him, how to drag it out and twist it into something humiliating.
The words rippled through him, searing hotter than any pull of his hair, and yet Alpha’s breath left him in a shaky exhale as he kissed a trail back up Secondo's length, tongue flicking out to lap at the tip in a way that made Secondo's thighs twitch.
His Papa's hand carded through his hair again, deceptively soft at first, petting in long, deliberate strokes. He hummed as though he were soothing him, as though the situation were tender. But then his fingers tightened, fisting in the thick strands, and he yanked Alpha’s head back sharply, pulling him free of his cock, a thin trail of saliva strung between them.
The movement forced a hissed gasp from Alpha’s lips, followed by a low groan that bled too easily into a pleasure-filled noise.
“There it is,” Secondo purred, leaning forward, his breath heavy with the taste of the wine. His eyes raked over the line of Alpha’s throat, the tension in his jaw, the flush of humiliation across his chest, “Tell me, which makes you harder? The shame? The pain? Or the praise I lace through it all?”
Alpha’s jaw worked, words caught between teeth. He wanted to deny it, to hold onto the thin scrap of pride he always tried to guard.
But Secondo saw the flutter in his throat, the heat burning in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell a little too quickly.
He trailed his hand down from Alpha's hair, thumbing at his bottom lip, a tap of nail against the silver ring threaded through it.
“Open,” Secondo ordered, soft as silk but leaving no room for refusal, and when Alpha tried to resist, he dug his thumb in harder.
He took another sip of wine, but didn't swallow just yet, jerking his head in a motion that said he wasn't going to ask again.
Alpha's eye twitched in annoyance, but he obeyed, reluctantly, lips parting, throat tilting up. Beneath his rebellious nature, a hunger to please burned through instead, trembling and eager.
Secondo smirked, leaned forward, and let the wine slip from his mouth into Alpha’s waiting one, slow and deliberate.
The taste hit Alpha’s tongue, rich and dark, a drop sliding from corner of his mouth, trailing crimson down to his chin. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and Secondo chuckled, low and pleased.
“Good boy,” he murmured, setting the glass aside at last. His fingers curled into Alpha’s hair again, grip winding tight as he pressed his head downward, "Finish what you started."
Alpha inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering half-shut, and then his mouth was pushed open wider, down over the heavy heat of Secondo’s cock.
The taste filled him quickly. The thick head tapped the back of his throat, making his breath shudder hard through his nose at the sudden intrusion.
Secondo groaned softly, the sound genuine, though the words he spilled down to Alpha were razor sharp, "You live for my praise, don’t you, diavoletto mio?"
Every pull of his hair made Alpha’s lashes flutter, every drag of cock over his tongue wrung a faint noise from his throat as Secondo guided the rhythm; a languid pace, watching with amusement at the way Alpha worked him over, the way he tried to swallow him down despite the struggle in his throat. So eager to please. So faithfully his to use and control.
It wasn't long before his grip turned merciless, knuckles paling where they twisted in the thick, ink dark strands, forcing Alpha’s head to rise and fall at the pace he dictated. The wet slide of lips down his length, the gagging constriction of throat—it was intoxicating.
But what made his smirk sharpen, what made his chest tighten with a cruel satisfaction, was the way Alpha’s body responded to him at every word.
Every time a strand of praise left Secondo’s lips, Alpha moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock, muffled but desperate as he hollowed his cheeks to take more. The way his fingers flexed at his thighs, holding back the urge to dig his claws in.
Secondo tugged hard at Alpha’s hair, pulling him off with a wet gasp, a string of saliva connecting the purpling head of his cock to swollen lips. Alpha’s cheeks flushed, a deep scarlet spreading up to his ears as he looked up, a storm of shame and need warring in his eyes.
Secondo’s heart thundered viciously in his chest, a spark of adoration in how faithfully submissive his ghoul was for him. Watching with satisfaction as Alpha pulled against his hand, tongue sliding from between his lips to catch the fresh bead of pre that had gathered at Secondo's tip.
His eyes wandered then, noting the glint of metal when the piercings that were threaded through Alpha’s tongue rolled against him. He groaned, deep and guttural, shoving Alpha back down until the beads of metal dragged along his shaft, sparking sharp, electric jolts of pleasure.
“Ah, you got those for me, didn’t you?” Secondo rasped, hips rolling forward as his hand guided Alpha’s mouth once more, “A gift you carved into yourself. My good boy, branding your own tongue to please me.”
Alpha's answering groan around him pulled a shudder through Secondo's hips, head tipping back against the cushions behind him when he felt the metal beads dip into the slit of his cock.
Alpha's cock throbbed where it lay heavy between his thighs, untouched, leaking silvery threads onto the floor, but his hips shifted faintly toward the leather of Secondo's boot, seeking friction that was quickly removed with a jerk of Secondo's knee.
“Ah, so desperate,” he murmured, letting his voice drip sweet with venom as he pushed Alpha down to the base and held him there, fingers clamped tight to the back of his head.
Alpha choked, throat fluttering in spasm, his eyes watering as they flickered up at Secondo's words. Strings of saliva began to bead at the corners of his lips, streaking down his chin before dripping to the floor between them.
“All it takes is a little bit of praise and my cock in your throat and you melt for me."
When he finally dragged Alpha up, drool and precum glossing his jaw, the fire ghoul’s lips parted like he’d forgotten how to close them, panting softly around stuttering breaths. He was trembling, flushed, his cock aching untouched, but his eyes were what gave him away.
Glassy, undone, the burgundy dulled by submission, but still shining with desperate eagerness.
Secondo leaned in, thumb brushing across Alpha’s wet bottom lip, pushing it open again, dragging against his tongue, “Perfect,” he whispered, adoring and cruel at once before leaning close, a wet slap reverberating between them as Secondo spat into Alpha's mouth again.
He didn't give him chance to recoil, holding him steady, pushing the tip of his cock past his lips again. The motion pushed the saliva down with it until Alpha's lips were flush to the base, his nose pressing to the soft flesh of his stomach, and he smirked when he watched Alpha's eyes roll back before sliding closed.
Secondo knew he had been dragging him mercilessly along the edge, holding Alpha down on his cock until his throat fluttered, until every breath was a gagged moan broken by the weight of praise in his ear. He hadn’t been touched once, but he was so close—so close that his whole body hummed with the pressure of it.
And still, Secondo got there first.
Secondo’s thrusts grew sharper, his grip on Alpha’s hair unyielding as he fucked into that hot, wet mouth. Each time the barbells along Alpha’s tongue dragged against him, he groaned louder.
“Beautiful” Secondo rasped, chest heaving, sweat gleaming at his temple as his hips snapped forward, “A hard cock, a wet mouth, and not a thought in that proud head except me. My good boy. My perfect ghoul. ”
That word—perfect—broke another shuddering moan out of Alpha, his eyes squeezing shut, the sound vibrating straight through Secondo’s length. He felt it tighten something inside him, push him closer until the coiling in his gut threatened to snap.
It started with a tightening of fingers, a faint quiver through Secondo's thighs as his hips canted harder. A breathy groan, low, and then with a guttural growl he buried himself deep as he spilled, hot and thick into Alpha’s mouth.
Alpha gagged around it, hands clenching against his thighs, body shuddering as the taste hit the back of his tongue. And then he stopped, holding it, lips sealed but throat unmoving. His chest heaved, eyes blazing with defiance even as they watered from the force of it.
“Swallow,” Secondo growled, voice rough with climax. His hand dropped, thumb digging into Alpha’s jaw. “Be good for me. Show me.”
When Alpha didn't obey, Secondo’s growl turned into a snarl. His hand tightened in Alpha’s hair, dragging his head back, trickles of spend spilling from the corners of his mouth as it leaked past his lips.
“Ah, so proud, aren’t you?” Secondo hissed, mismatched eyes narrowing, “Even now, after I’ve ruined you, still trying to cling to a measly scrap of pride.”
Alpha coughed wetly, jaw stubbornly set, shoulders trembling with the strain and the refusal to break his gaze. He knew how to get what he wanted, and that usually meant defiance.
Secondo’s patience snapped, and his palm cracked across Alpha’s cheek, sharp and hard, leaving his skin flushed and ears ringing.
The reaction was immediate. Alpha’s head whipped to the side with the blow, and the sudden pain that lanced through his cheek sent a shock tearing down his spine. He came with a broken moan, untouched, his cock jerking as thick ropes painted across Secondo’s bare skin and down the gleaming leather of his boots. His form shook with it, throat working finally as he choked down what was left on his tongue.
Secondo’s nostrils flared, chest rising as he watched. His cock twitched again, still half-hard, at the sight of Alpha painting his boots in defiance-turned-surrender. He tightened his grip in Alpha’s hair, yanking his head back to force his gaze , tears brimming in the ghouls eyes from the sting of the slap, lips parted and wet with the mess he’d refused to swallow.
“You filthy—” Secondo inhaled sharply through his nose, breathed out again into something calmer, his tone equal parts venom and reverence. His free hand brushed over Alpha’s spit-slicked jaw almost tenderly, thumb smearing a drop of his own release across his skin. “Can’t even control yourself. Came like an animal… and over my boots .”
Alpha was panting now, sweat dripping down his temples, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
Secondo’s smirk returned, slow and cruel. “Pathetic. Beautiful. Exactly as I like you.” He tugged Alpha closer, pressing down, his mouth mere centimetres from the leather he’d just ruined.
“Lick it clean.”
Alpha's fingers curled tightly against his thighs, claw tips pricking against the soft flesh of his palms, and for a long second, he hesitated.
The need to obey snapped tightly against his pride as his eyes flicked between his Papa and the mess at his feet. His throat worked as he swallowed down the growl building there.
But then, slowly, he leaned down further, tail flicking restlessly, lips parting.
His tongue dragged slowly across the leather, and he flinched, catching the taste of himself as he smeared it away with each humiliating pass.
The degradation that flared was choking; every muscle in his body growing taut, but his cock gave a betraying twitch at the raw submission of it.
Secondo chuckled darkly, stroking his hair almost affectionately, the mockery in the gesture unmistakable. “That’s it, diavoletto mio,” his fingers scratched lightly at Alpha's scalp, and he smirked at the almost startled purr that rippled from the ghoul’s chest, “If you cannot keep your own instincts under control, the least you can do is learn to clean up the mess you make.”
Alpha’s groan was muffled against the boot, his tongue laving at the leather until the shine beneath started to return, streaks of saliva replacing what was once pearlescent drops. His eyes burned, defiance still flashing through them whenever he dared flick his gaze upward.
Secondo met that glare with a razor-sharp smile, a knowing grin curving the corners of his lips, “Still fighting me, even with my taste in your mouth and your come on my boots.” He tugged his hair back sharply, forcing Alpha upright again, eyes tracing over his flushed face and wet lips.
Alpha’s silence was answer enough. The way his claws trembled, jaw clenched tight, and his short, stuttering pants all spoke louder than any words could have.
Secondo leaned in, pressing his thumb hard against Alpha’s cheek, over the mark he’d left there, now an angry red across pale skin.
He released Alpha's hair from his grasp with a disgruntled sigh, motioning to rise from his chair. He plucked the now empty wine glass from the side table, turning it in his fingers with an analytical gesture before stepping past the ghoul at his feet without so much as a glance.
And Alpha, still breathless, lips wet and swollen, could only watch as Secondo walked toward the door. He stopped at the threshold, turning his head, finally, to look at his ghoul, and his voice dropped when he spoke, smooth and venomous:
“But you’ll do it again. It’s what you were made for, after all.”
Thinking about Dewdrop and Rain and how their relationship was very strained at the beginning of Rain's summoning.
Thinking about how Dewdrop hated their new water ghoul with every fiber of his being.
It was a different hatred to what Alpha felt for Ifrit (replacement and resentment for taking the spot that he felt was rightfully his.)
Because it was based in what Dewdrop had to lose in order for Rain to even exist.
The removal of the element that was all he knew when he was summoned.
The given name that met his water, the love from his pack mates because he was water, the endless "waterlily"s and "droplet"s that he answered to, now ripped from him and directed at Rain.
Because that isn't what he is anymore.
All of that which made Dewdrop Dewdrop burned away in an instant when the clergy decided that they needed a new water ghoul, not that Dew ever felt he fit his water, but it was still something that was his.
Thinking about the way Dewdrop still resents himself, still falters in his confidence, still dreams of that day in the chamber; waking up, feeling like he's choking because there's still an instinct to use the gills that are no longer there.
The dreams of being unmade and reshaped, because, he was good at what he did right? He was adequate? Enough?
Why did they need to rebuild him, and then summon another version of what he lost?
And the worst part? Rain was pretty, elegant, talented, everything expected of a water ghoul.
And the others adored him from the second that the flood cleared and the mist dissipated from the summoning circle he'd been pulled from.
He'd expected Rain to meet his hatred, and more than once, they butted heads.
Thinking about how more than once did Rain feel a burn at his wrists from Dewdrop holding them too tightly, jaw set, eyes cast downward as he mumbles about how he should hate Rain, but he can't.
And he doesn't know why.
Because he's everything he isn't anymore and he hates that.
Thinking about how more than once, did Dew find himself nursing freezer burns and cuts on his skin from icicles after Rain lost his temper when Dew's bullying finally got too much.
But then, eventually, the smoke clears, and Dew finally accepts it. Accepts himself. Accepts Rain.
And very quickly finds it sparking into something quite the opposite of hatred and frustration.
And little did he expect to find the ever patient water ghoul waiting for him at the end of that journey; arms open and a smile upon his lips like he knew this all along.
Because, afterall, fire and water have always existed in harmony, haven't they?
Summary: Or...how Alpha makes claims he absolutely cannot back up. Ifrit also doesn't know how to stop yapping, and it's absolute filth.
Word count: 4.7k
Title inspo: "Reptile" by Nine Inch Nails
Banners by @/cafekitsune
[AO3 Link]
It had started with little more than Alpha's ego. Posturing for the ghouls at dinner, easily goaded by the others around him, and especially Dew, who had questioned, knowing it would rile him, about who 'wore the pants' in his and Ifrit's relationship.
Alpha had been quick to take the bait and bite right back, proclaiming Ifrit was his sub always, and that Alpha himself was the one who wore them, because that's 'just where he naturally fit'.
His proclamation had been barked out in a confidently dominating tone that made his mate raise an eyebrow over his glass, their eyes meeting across the table.
He had taken Ifrit's silence as agreement, shooting him a knowing look that meant what he claimed.
And Ifrit? Ifrit had met it with a smile that seemed saccharine at the time, his usual easy-going demeanour enough to fool the elder ghoul.
What he hadn't anticipated was where he was now, his face pushed into the pillows of their bed, a hand wrapped tightly around the back of his neck, keeping him pinned as Ifrit relentlessly drove into him with a brutal rhythm that left him breathless.
The sound Alpha made was half-snarl, half-broken growl. His fists twisted tight in the sheets, back arching hard, muscles straining under the bend of his spine that dragged his leaking cock against the mattress.
Ifrit didn't slow for a second. He pulled back fully and drove forward hard again, each thrust sharp and fast, the wet slap of skin against skin reverberating off the walls of their room. His fingertips pressed bruises into Alpha’s hips, sharp nails pricking the skin, almost enough to puncture, holding him down as he fucked into him with abandon.
“You think topping me makes you the dominant one?" Ifrit hissed between gritted teeth, his rhythm never faltering, tail coiling tightly around Alpha's thigh, flexing against flushed skin to hold him in place, “You think it makes me beneath you?"
His voice had an edge of frustration mixed with a feral hunger all at once, something so unlike Ifrit's usual cheery demeanour that it made Alpha's head spin.
Alpha had tried to bite back, tried to retort with something smart and snarky, but the pace Ifrit had set was shaking every thought out of his skull before it could start to form.
Each thrust punched the air from his lungs; every deep grind of Ifrit's cock against that sweet bundle of nerves inside him left him gasping into the sheets.
He hadn’t thought he’d ever accept this—being used so mercilessly, forced into a submission he otherwise wouldn't tolerate—but his body didn’t lie. His cock dribbled against the mattress with every movement, smearing beads of pre across the sheets, desperate for friction.
His ego had told him to resist, flip the script and have Ifrit under him instead, as they usually were, but every nerve screamed to give in, to let Ifrit take him. And fuck, did it feel good.
Alpha tried again, pride fighting through ragged puffs of breath, “You-this doesn't make you-"
The rest of the sentence vanished into a strangled moan as Ifrit bit down at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, sharp enough to sting, soothing it with a gentle lap of tongue before speaking again. “Make me what? Stronger? Smarter? Louder? I don’t need to think, Alpha. I know."
Another thrust, even rougher, had Alpha clawing at the sheets, cursing, trying to find words, but Ifrit cut him off with another snap of his hips that left him incoherent.
“Every time you open your mouth," Ifrit growled, just below Alpha’s ear, fangs sinking into the soft flesh he found there, “I’ll shut it for you. With my cock. With my teeth. With whatever it takes until you remember who you’re moaning for."
The next snap was hard enough to rattle the headboard that time with Ifrit driving his fangs deeper into the nape of Alpha's neck until he yelped, the sound shattering into a drawn-out moan.
Ifrit’s thrusts never lost their pace, sweat beading at his hairline from exertion, fangs catching his bottom lip as he held back a stuttered groan.
A hand slid up from Alpha's neck, tangling into his hair, sharp, un-glamoured claws pricking lightly at his scalp as he yanked his head back, forcing his spine to arch.
The stretch of his neck left his throat bared, flushed and damp with sweat, rivulets pooling at his collarbones as Ifrit leaned in close, breath fanning hot over his ear, “Still holding out on me?" his words were growled, voice rough but steady, a strange anchor in the sea of sensation that Alpha was finding him sinking fast under.
Ifrit's other hand slid around Alpha’s hip, wrapping firmly around his cock, stroking him with just enough pressure to tease, not enough to matter.
And when Ifrit’s fingers slid upwards, tracing along the curve of Alpha’s length, pressing just so over the first ladder of his piercings, Alpha twitched. Visibly. A little gasp slipping from his lips like a whispered confession.
“Ohhh, there you are," Ifrit purred, voice thick with confidence, wrapping like smoke around Alpha's senses.
He kept going. Slowly brushing over each one, riding out the way Alpha jerked and clenched around him when he pressed down, mouth falling open, eyes glazed, thoughts reduced to little more than white noise.
Alpha's tail flicked harshly against the bed now, a rhythmic thumping under the spade that made Ifrit smirk against his skin.
It was when Ifrit's thumb dragged over the one right at the tip, circling it with maddening patience, a slick swirl that sent lightning straight through Alpha’s spine, that he let out a strangled sound, somewhere between a groan and a laugh.
“Fuck—hah—don’t think you’ll get me to beg." His chest heaved as Ifrit’s fist pumped him faster now, pressing hard against the bars, matching the roll of his hips, every nerve singing under the pressure, “Not... my style."
Ifrit chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against his throat as his fangs grazed the skin there, teasing, tantalising in a way that he knew Alpha enjoyed, “I know."
His strokes on Alpha’s cock quickened just enough to push the tension higher, his thumb smearing the pre that slicked his palm across the tip.
But then, his tone shifted, softened, though he never slowed, “That’s why I’m asking, not forcing." A tender kiss to the tip of Alpha's ear made him flinch, "You with me?"
The contrast made Alpha bark out a breathless laugh, “Fuck... you-" His voice cracked into a moan as Ifrit hit that spot deep inside him again, cock twitching helplessly in Ifrit’s fist, “You can't just go from ruining me to ah--checking in like this."
He felt the grin against his ear more than he saw it when Ifrit replied, "I can, and I will, because for all of your shitty attitude, you deserve that much."
Alpha didn't have a response to that; his mouth was open again, lip ring glinting faintly where it caught the low light. Every time he bit down on it, it clicked, delicate little taps that made Ifrit's stomach flip.
“Yeah, that’s it," Ifrit murmured, a sweet coaxing of breath as his hand tightened in Alpha’s hair, pulling his head back so he could hear him, see him, could feel every sound catch in his throat, “Let it out. All of it. You can’t hold it forever, and you don’t need to. Not with me."
Alpha laughed, ragged and breathless, his fingers flexing against the sheets, wanting purchase but finding little, “You’re—hah—you’re so full of shit." His body contradicted the words, tightening greedily around Ifrit with every brutal snap of hips, another trail of slick leaking helplessly against the bedding.
Ifrit smiled against his ear, sharp and knowing.
Knowing that it was his pride, the need to be seen as the strongest, unbreakable, but Ifrit had no interest in that, “Strongest ghoul I know, and you’re still bending for me like this. That’s not weakness, Alpha..." His thrusts slowed, not easing up entirely, but shifting; longer strokes, deep enough to make Alpha’s knees slip beneath him as he struggled to hold himself.
Ifrit's hand left his hair, trailing softly down the curve of his spine, thumbing circles against his hip. "That's fucking beautiful."
Alpha’s breath caught at the contrast, and he squirmed under Ifrit's hold, as if trying to escape Ifrit's words, “Fuck—don’t—" His words broke off in a moan, his pride unravelling faster with every tender stroke and whispered praise. His cock twitched in Ifrit's palm, a fresh bead of pre slicking down his fingers as the younger ghoul twisted his wrist, tightening under the tip.
“Don’t what?" Ifrit pressed, his voice low, almost dangerously goading as he continued, “Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t tell you you’re perfect? That you’re mine?"
“Shut up," Alpha grumbled into his forearms, muffled but sharp, like he thought the bite in his voice could hide the way his body was trembling from the praise, the way he tightened around every thrust.
Ifrit didn’t let him bury himself. He leaned forward again, pressing himself against Alpha's shoulder blades, breath fanning steadily against Alpha’s temple. His fingers were buried in Alpha's hair again, a hard, possessive grip tangling deep at the roots.
It was just firm enough to tilt his head back again toward him before trailing down the length of Alpha’s arm. His fingertips tickled at the skin, leaving gooseflesh in their wake until they found his hand, prying it loose from its fist and lacing their fingers together.
Ifrit pulled, twisting Alpha's arm until he could plant their joined hands into the small of his back, pressed between them.
Alpha’s teeth sank into his lip, trying to swallow the sound, gripping Ifrit’s hand back so tightly it nearly hurt.
The rhythm didn’t falter; Ifrit’s cock still drove into him with precision, each thrust sending Alpha forward against the grip of his hand, forcing him to feel everything at once. Pain edged with pleasure, the burn of Ifrit’s length inside him, the stroke of his fist wringing more out of him than Alpha wanted to give, the sharp sensation of Ifrit's fangs in his shoulder.
Alpha’s chest heaved, laughter breaking into ragged groans, the sound so unlike him. Stripped of composure, stripped of control.
Ifrit's hand worked mercilessly along Alpha’s cock; twisting, stroking, his thumb dragging over the swollen tip with every downward slide. The pace of his hips was unrelenting, each thrust driving him deeper, filling Alpha until his whole body trembled from the strain of keeping himself together.
Alpha’s voice cracked through the air again, raw and broken, “You—fuck—m' gonna—ahh—" it fractured as Ifrit squeezed tighter, pulling him flush against the hard rhythm that had reduced his thoughts to nothing.
Alpha's cock twitched harder in Ifrit’s hand, slick spilling between his fingers as his hips bucked forward into the touch.
“Fuck—Frit-" Alpha gasped as the coil that had kept him on the edge for so long finally snapped, the words torn out of him as his cock spilt across Ifrit’s fist and the sheets beneath, messy and unrestrained. His whole frame shook with it, every nerve singing, every thrust dragging the climax out until it was almost unbearable.
Ifrit’s hand released his own as it shot back into Alpha’s hair, pulling roughly, holding him exposed, head tipped back so every gasp and groan spilt into the air instead of being buried in the sheets.
“No, let me hear it, let me-" His voice cracked into a growl, hips stuttering for the first time all night before he shoved himself deep, burying to the root. The heat, the squeeze, the way Alpha’s body shuddered under him—he couldn’t hold back as he came, warm and thick, drawing a quaking shiver from them both.
Ifrit stayed buried for a long moment, savouring the way Alpha twitched and clenched weakly around him, drawing out every last pulse of his orgasm. His breath was still warm against Alpha’s shoulder, voice a rasped growl as he dragged his teeth gently across flushed skin.
“Messy fuckin’ thing," he muttered, amusement laced through his tone, rolling his hips shallowly once more just to feel Alpha jolt beneath him.
He sighed, shaky, stuttering, still edged with the high that came after until a laugh bubbled up in his throat, “You love it though. The way I fill you-fuck, you’re still gripping me like you don’t want to let a drop go."
Alpha groaned low, his thighs trembling, his pride clawing for something to say, but all that left his lips was a wrecked laugh and an even rougher noise that sounded something vaguely close to shut up.
Ifrit grinned against his skin, then finally, he sat up, slowly pulling out. The stretch gave way to a wet slide, and the moment he slipped free, his release followed after him in a hot, heavy spill. It streaked down Alpha’s thighs, staining the sheets beneath, and his legs shook hard around the mess of it.
Ifrit watched it all with a low, appreciative noise, one hand smoothing down Alpha’s spine as though to soothe, the other tracing along his hip like he was admiring his own handiwork.
His claws spread across Alpha’s hip, holding him still as he rutted his length once against the back of his thigh, smearing the slick between them. “Look at that," his thumb swiped a dribble of spend from Alpha's thigh, and he brought it to his lips to flick his tongue against it with a chuckle, "Can’t even hold it all in."
Alpha buried his face in his arms, ears flicking with a quiet embarrassment. “You’re fucking filthy like this," he managed through gritted teeth, though the broken edge to his voice stripped the bite clean out of the words.
“Still fluttering," Ifrit continued as if Alpha hadn't spoken at all, fingertips idly grazing the curve of Alpha’s hole, feeling it twitch under his touch, “Even after I’ve wrung you out, you can’t help it, can you?"
Alpha grumbled into the sheets, trying to bury his face so Ifrit wouldn’t see the way his cheeks burned at that.
“Fuck you," he rasped, voice shredded, but the fight in it was paper-thin at best.
And fell away completely when he felt Ifrit's fingers sink back into him, dragging an overstimulated whimper from Alpha's throat.
“Never thought I had this in me, did you?" Ifrit’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, rough with exhaustion but laced with something darker, dirtier than Alpha had ever heard from him.
Alpha’s answering laugh was wrecked, more a broken exhale than anything else, breath catching sharply as Ifrit spread his fingers, watching Alpha’s body twitch and clench, a low whistle escaping him at the sight of his release dribbling around them.
This was the part that Alpha had expected the least. He’d never seen this side of Ifrit—never expected the so easily excitable, happy ray of golden sunshine ghoul to fall into something this debauched, this possessive.
And yet the way his thighs trembled, the way his body spasmed around Ifrit’s fingers even now, proved just how much he loved every second of it.
Ifrit leaned back over him, dragging his mouth along the line of Alpha’s neck, his words vibrating against sweat-dampened skin. “You drive me fucking crazy. Always so proud, so sure. And all I can think about is ruining you like this; filling you so full until you can’t think straight."
His grin sharpened as he curled his fingers just right, pressing them slow and deep before pulling out far enough to let more of the slick flood down over his knuckles. Then, deliberately, he shoved them back in, filling Alpha again with a wet, obscene sound that had the older ghoul jerking forward with a strangled groan he tried desperately to contain.
“Let it be a reminder, that my submission is given, not a disposition. That I can tear you down into the dumb, fucked out mess you are right now."
Ifrit pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, watching the slick drip from Alpha in wet, obscene trails down his thighs. He groaned at the sight, drawing his lip between his fangs, before dragging his palm roughly across his mouth, spitting messily into his hand.
The wet slap of it echoed as he reached down, wrapping his fist around his softening cock and stroking himself back to life. His tone was rough, husky, but threaded through with want again.
“But I don’t think you’re done."
Alpha gave an exhausted chuckle into the pillow, muffled and hoarse. His shoulders shook with it, half disbelief, half exhaustion. “You’ve—hah—you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…" His voice cracked on the words, wrecked and fraying.
Ifrit climbed back over him, nipping at the nape of his neck while his other hand slid along his cock, spit and the remnants of release slicking his strokes. He was swelling quickly, already pushing back into hardness as he ground himself against the curve of Alpha’s ass, “Do I feel like I’m kidding?" he growled, rutting his length between Alpha’s cheeks, feeling him shiver, “You’re still twitching around nothing. Begging for more even when your mouth won’t say it."
Alpha let out a ragged groan, his thighs trembling again despite himself, body betraying the truth. He clenched down hard, instinctively, like he couldn’t help searching for something to fill him again.
Ifrit smirked against his shoulder, dragging his cock along that swollen rim. “See? Your body knows. You’re not done. Not until I say you are." He spat into his palm again, slicking himself further, then pressed the head back to Alpha’s entrance, grinding just enough to make him gasp.
“Gonna fuck you until your pride finally shuts up. Until you can’t even remember what you were trying to prove."
Ifrit buried himself to the hilt again, but instead of snapping back into that punishing rhythm, he stilled.
His hand slid from Alpha’s hip, along his spine, down to his jaw, angling his face sideways so he could watch him. The flushed skin, the sweat at his temple, the defiance that trembled against exhaustion with each sighed breath that passed his lips. He leaned down, pressing a kiss just beneath Alpha’s ear, a low hum rolling through his chest.
“Not this time," he murmured, his voice softer now, stripped of the bite from before. “You already know I can break you. I don’t need to prove it again."
Alpha huffed a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a moan, disbelieving, trying to push back against the pause. “Since when do you—fuck—go soft on me?"
Ifrit’s pace started out slow, deep, deliberate; each measured movement dragging Alpha higher into that strange place between overstimulation and comfort. But then he shifted, pulling back almost all the way, just enough for the wet, obscene stretch to echo in the room. His cock slipped free a few inches, slick with both their mess, and he groaned low in his chest at the sensation, the sight of it all.
“Fuck, Alfie…" he rasped, voice breaking around it, the sound raw, honest. He glanced down, ember-tipped hair falling loose around his face as he watched the mess spill, thick and hot, only to catch against Alpha’s rim.
And quickly looked away as it almost undid him.
He pressed forward again, hips canting, and he groaned louder as the spill was pushed right back in, swallowed by Alpha’s body. His breath caught sharp against Alpha's ear.
“That’s it," Ifrit breathed, his voice reverent now, almost adoring, “You feel me better this way, don’t you? Every inch of me splitting you open. Every drop I’ve already spilled being fucked deeper, where it belongs."
Ifrit kissed the side of his neck, an unhurried brushing of lips against the thrumming pulse he found there. His hand slid around to Alpha’s chest, claws grazing but not scratching, palm settling flat against his heartbeat. “You don’t have to fight me for this."
Alpha growled, quiet as it was, head tipping forward, thighs quivering as that steady rhythm worked through him. He hated how much he loved it; how Ifrit could be just as devastating with patience as with brutality. Each grind dragged sparks of pleasure through him, leaving him gasping, shaking, undone.
Ifrit nuzzled at his jaw, nose pressing into the soft skin beneath the hinge, his voice warmer now, "Never have to fight me, I'll always give you this," His hips rolled again, slow and savouring, “I want to love you until it's carved into your bones."
Alpha couldn’t laugh this time. Couldn’t muster the retort, sounds barely catching in his throat now as his body pressed back into Ifrit’s, and Ifrit smiled against his skin, the adoration clear now in every little twitch, every little grind.
Ifrit laced their fingers again, a thumb sweeping across Alpha's knuckles in a soothing motion before he shifted his weight, making the move to sit back on his heels.
But he didn’t let Alpha collapse away from him. His hand slithered up from his chest, threading around Alpha's throat, tugging firm, coaxing, pulling him upright while the other stayed locked tight, fingers interlaced. With a sharp drag of strength, he pulled him back until Alpha was flush against his chest, his spine arched, eyes fluttering as the angle pressed Ifrit deeper.
Alpha cursed under his breath, trying to keep some grit in his voice, but the way his thighs quivered, the way he leaned back into Ifrit’s heat, gave him away.
“Good boy," Ifrit murmured against his ear, his lips brushing sweat-slick skin. He kissed along Alpha’s temple, down the line of his jaw, then lower, scattering warm, reverent presses of lips along his shoulder. His hips never stopped, grinding up into him from beneath, slow enough to memorise, just enough to steal Alpha’s breath with every roll.
Alpha’s hand squeezed Ifrit's tighter, but he couldn’t form a words, the thoughts in his head like whispers of smoke. His chest rose and fell too fast, his head dropping back against Ifrit’s shoulder as he panted through the drag of each thrust.
“You’re perfect," Ifrit went on, murmuring between every press of lips to skin, “Perfect when you fight me. Perfect when you finally give in. Satanas, I could stay like this forever. Feeling you, hearing you, having every part of you."
Alpha shuddered, another hissed sound pressed between clenched teeth before breaking into something far more fragile, more desperate. His stubborn pride was crumbling under the weight of it, every bit of resistance melting in the heat of Ifrit’s body and words.
And Ifrit could feel it; the way Alpha softened in his arms, trembling not from defiance but from surrender. His chest swelled with it, his kisses trailing slower, his praises spilling unrestrained as he rocked into him, grinding deep until Alpha was nothing but breath and the sound of his name breaking loose again and again.
Ifrit's hand drifted, slow and purposeful, tracing the slope of Alpha’s throat, the sharp edge of his collarbone, then further down to the hard lines of his chest. His claws grazed gently, just enough to tease, circling over one pierced nipple until Alpha hissed, his body jerking at the sudden sharp spark of sensation.
Ifrit chuckled low against his ear, lips brushing rings and bars alike, tongue flicking against the metal, “So sensitive. Every part of you made for me to touch. Made to unravel under me." He tugged at the jewellery once more before dragging his hand down the taut lines of Alpha’s stomach, mapping every tremor in his muscles.
Alpha tried to counter it, protest that Ifrit was wrong, but it came out broken, shaky, and not much of a protest at all, “You—you’re enjoying this too much."
“I’m enjoying you," Ifrit corrected, his tone unshakably calm, intimate. He gave a slow grind of his hips before stilling again, making Alpha gasp before his hand found his thigh, drawing circles, dragging claws with just a little more pressure.
Ifrit’s smile was audible in his voice, honeyed and dark all at once. “Fuck, that’s it. Beautiful like this—strong and proud, and still giving me everything I ask."
His kisses rained tender against flushed skin, each one punctuating his words as he murmured them into Alpha’s ear.
"You fuckin' done talking, sweetheart?" It was a little stab at resistance, a little attempt to not collapse under the praise that Ifrit was burying him under.
Ifrit only smiled in return, warm and sure, squeezing his fingers tighter with Alpha’s where they were still laced together. He pulled their joined hands down, past the heaving rise of Alpha’s stomach, until he pressed his knuckles against the base of Alpha’s cock, heavy and aching.
“Touch yourself for me," Ifrit whispered, pausing to mouth against Alpha’s ear, a sharp tug of rings between his fangs followed by tender kisses that made the older ghoul sigh. His voice was quieter now, but no less commanding, a simple authority that left no room for argument, “Show me how good you can be for yourself."
Alpha whimpered at the contact, the sound catching in his throat at the overstimulation. His pride wanted to resist, to scoff, to bite back at his mate's request, but instead, his hand flexed under Ifrit’s guidance, fingers curling around himself.
The first stroke was shaky, uneven, but the way he gasped against Ifrit’s jaw made it clear how much he needed it.
His strokes quickly grew steadier, spurred on by the heat of Ifrit’s voice and the relentless grind inside him.
Ifrit trailed his free hand back up Alpha’s chest, brushing over the metal again just to feel him shiver. “Perfect," he whispered, kissing his jaw, pulling away only slightly to get a proper look at his mate's face.
And he adored what he found: Alpha's face a perfect picture of ruin, eyebrows knitted together, jaw set tense, and that lip held between his fangs like it was the only thing keeping him together.
Alpha’s hand moved faster, shaky but desperate, every stroke dragging him closer. His moans had turned higher, whining, almost broken, each one caught against Ifrit’s jaw before spilling free anyway. His thighs threatened to give out, but Ifrit held him firm, arm banded against his chest, still grinding up into him with that steady, claiming rhythm.
“Alph-" Ifrit murmured, a hitch in his voice against his ear, a husky gravel, every word a tether, “You’re perfect like this. Perfect for me. Don’t even know how much I love you like this, how good you are."
Alpha’s eyes fluttered shut; noises reduced to little more than whimpers and punched-out whines now as he cracked apart, nothing sharp left in it all, just need. His hand faltered on his cock, and Ifrit tightened against it with his own, guiding him through the last desperate strokes.
The moment their pace matched—his own grip spurred on by Ifrit's hand, the relentless grind inside him—Alpha tumbled over the edge with a wrecked cry. His cock spilled hot and heavy between their joined hands, body seizing, clenching down around Ifrit as though he could pull him in deeper.
The tightness around him undid Ifrit almost instantly. He growled, burying his face in Alpha’s neck as his rhythm broke, grinding deep as he spilled inside him again. The heat of it surged in waves, filling Alpha until it overflowed, threading down his thighs into a mess on the sheets as he held him tighter, holding him close as their shared release crested and then tapered into something softer.
They collapsed into it together, shaking and panting against each other. Ifrit kept their hands tangled even as Alpha’s went limp, kept his lips pressed to his jaw, whispering softly between fast, sticky breaths against skin, “So good… so strong… mine."
Alpha couldn’t muster words, not with the way his voice was gone, a raw grating from too much use, but the way he slumped back into Ifrit’s embrace, letting him hold all his weight, said everything.
Ifrit kissed his shoulder, slowing his breaths to match Alpha’s, anchoring him in the aftermath as though he’d promised: no matter how hard he pushed, he’d always be there to catch him when he tipped.
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