𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩𝓎 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔡𝓎 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 Ethan Winters x male reader
Summary: he has so many new things to share with you now that he is your husband… and so many things to share and try out together with you.
Tags: Male Reader. No Use of Y/N. Lord Ethan Winters AU. Canon Divergence. Dark Ethan Winters. Possessive Ethan Winters. Obsessive behavior. Protective Ethan Winters. Corruption. Infected Reader. Mold Infection. Touch-Starved Ethan Winters. Emotional Dependency. Unhealthy Attachment. Fluff. Forced marriage. Smut. Top Ethan Winters. Bottom male reader. Monster fucking. Tentacle sex. Size kink (very mold-enhanced size). Anal sex. Overstimulation. Cum inflation. Gentle dom Ethan Winters.
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 - 𝒫𝓇ℯ𝓋𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉
Words count: 8500
Applauses cracked through the vaulted living room of Castle Dimitrescu, ricocheting off the crimson drapes and the gilt sconces that flickered with beeswax flame.
A family of monsters clapping for a union that had been decided way before asking your opinion.
Lady Alcina Dimitrescu was the first to lift her gloved hands and even her clapping was theatrical. She half-turned toward the black-cloaked figure of Mother Miranda, long dark cigarette held between two of her tallest fingers, smoke curling up past the brim of her wide sunhat.
"Mother," Alcina purred, voice honeyed and slick, "what a truly beautiful union you have brought to fruition beneath my roof. I am honored beyond measure that you would grace my humble castle with a ceremony so delicate." Her yellow eyes flicked to you and Ethan before back again to her Mother figure, the barb hidden in the compliment was so soft it barely showed its point. "It is my absolute pleasure to host it."
Standing there with Ethan's warm arm curled possessively over your hip, you knew that every syllable Alcina spoke was for Miranda's ears alone.
The tall Lady's crimson lips smiled at the crow-woman but her golden gaze slid toward Ethan.
Beside the far column, hunched almost double, Salvatore Moreau was clapping too. His two mismatched, deformed hands slapped together and a thin string of greenish bile crept out of the corner of his mouth and he caught it with the back of his wrist, swallowing hard, blinking those pale runny eyes. He was trying so terribly hard not to embarrass himself in front of his tall sister as you saw his throat bob three times in succession, forcing the vomit back down for the sake of the occasion.
Deep in the shadow of the tall bookcase, cradled on Donna Beneviento's lap, Angie was howling with glee, mouth clacking open and closing while her tiny wooden hands slapped together at manic speed.
"More kisses, more kisses, more kisses!" the doll shrieked, kicking her stiff legs. "Kiss him again, do it wet!"
Donna herself said nothing, face hidden behind that heavy black veil and her long lace-gloved hands only tightened just slightly around Angie's midsection to still her.
The remaining sibling of your new husband, Heisenberg, stood leaning heavy against the frame of the door that led into the dining room, weight pressing into the wood so hard the old timber creaked under him.
His round sunglasses caught the candlelight in two little copper coins and you couldn't see his eyes, but you felt them.
Broad hand resting on the head of that great steel hammer and his gloved fingers drummed on the metal. He tilted his head back enough that the light caught the smirk on his mouth.
Miranda finally lifted a slender hand and the room fell silent.
"Alcina, my dear," Miranda said, her voice cool and reverent-sounding, though nothing about it felt maternal. "Once again, my thanks. Your hospitality is, as always, exquisite." She turned that beaked mask toward you and Ethan. "Congratulations, my children. Ethan and you, little one. Do enjoy your—" her voice curled around the word with the barest, driest twist "—matrimony."
There was something almost mocking in the way she said it and Ethan's arm tightened at your waist, fingers spreading over your back, thumb rubbing circles through your shirt.
"Now, if you will forgive me, my work calls." Miranda spread her arms and her form began to fracture apart into black feathers and beating wings. In the space of two heartbeats she was gone and a small murder of crows launched themselves upward through the tall window arch, shrieking and dissolving into the darkening sky beyond.
A single black feather drifted down, landing on the marble at your feet.
The moment she was gone, the whole room seemed to exhale.
Heisenberg was first to leave, shoving himself off the doorframe with his shoulder and dragging his great hammer along, head of it scraping the polished stone floor with a shrill metallic screech that made you flinch.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Congraaaats," he drawled over his shoulder, giving a lazy two-fingered salute without turning. "Best fuckin' wishes. May your union be long and… fertile." He laughed once but loudly. "Try not to break him too fast, Winters."
Ethan's jaw locked and arm at your waist did not move, but you felt the muscles in his forearm cord up, hard as rope under your ribs.
Moreau limped after his brother with that lurching, sidelong gait but he stopped in front of you, short frame from his state barely reaching Ethan's chest. His fishy pale eyes flicked from Ethan to you and back, watering. He tried to smile, lower lip trembling and when his mouth opened, there was a small wet click as something in his palate resettled.
"C-congratulations, brother," Moreau stammered up at Ethan, his voice thin and slippery like something dragged from underwater. "And to you, t-too. You're—you're very lucky. It's… very special." His head bobbed as he swallowed hard again. "I'm so happy for you."
Before you could answer, his slimy palm reached out and settled on your thigh over your jeans. It was cold and damp and even through the denim you felt the moisture soaking through in a small dark patch. Something like fish oil that made your stomach lurch. You clamped down hard on the instinct to recoil, feeling so sorry for even thinking he was ugly and the disgust trying to twist your mouth, but the sensation of that hand was almost more than you could bear.
Ethan reacted instantly.
"Thank you, Salvatore," he said, warm and civil on the surface, but under the warmth there was a low bass hum of something else as he pulled you flush against him with the arm at your waist, hard enough that Moreau's damp hand slid off your jeans with a soft wet peel. Ethan tipped his head down and pressed his lips to your cheek, chaste but firm, marking you.
Then he looked down at his hunched brother and his tone gentled into almost pitying.
"I'm sure it won't be long," Ethan told him. "Mother Miranda will bring somebody home for you, too. You just have to be patient, brother. You'll have someone of your own."
Moreau's whole misshapen face lit up. His lopsided eyes went round and shining as he nodded and a bubble of drool broke at the corner of his mouth. "Th-thank you, Ethan. Thank you. That's— th-that's so kind of you to say.”
He lurched away toward the great doors, casting a damp wave over his shoulder to Alcina and she did not even acknowledge his existence, her yellow gaze had not left you and Ethan for a single second.
"So," Alcina said, taking a long, slow drag from her cigarette and letting the smoke drift down at you two in a thin gray curtain. "How very curious it is all very much attention Mother has been paying you lately, Ethan."
There was tension threaded through her every syllable, she was smiling in her own oblique, aristocratic way, telling him she was watching.
Ethan shrugged one shoulder. "I haven't asked for anything in all these years, Alcina. I think this was overdue."
"Mm." Her red mouth quirked. "How well you put things."
From the shadows, the tall Lady's three daughters all lifted small hands and waved to you with sinuous fingers and flirty actions before the three of them dissolved into whirring clouds of shining blowflies and were gone.
Ethan cleared his throat. "Alcina. The stones I asked, you have them?"
Alcina turned her sly gaze on him and held it, smile deepening while making him wait.
"Bela." She yelled loud enough for the eldest daughter to re-materialize only from the waist up, her lower body still a hovering churn of black insects. She held out one small palm and let two glimmering gems fall into her mother's huge, gloved hand. Then, without a word, Bela dissolved again into buzzing motes and streamed away.
Alcina let the gems roll around her palm a moment, admiring the way they caught the light. Then, with a lazy carelessness that was almost insulting, she flicked her wrist and tossed both of them at Ethan.
Before they had even reached the halfway point through the air, black mold erupted from the flagstones beneath his feet. A single sinuous vine, glossy and dark, uncurled upward and caught both stones on its blunt tip with unerring precision. It retracted, gliding back to Ethan's hand and he plucked the two rubies off it with two fingers. The vine sank silently back into the floor without so much as a scuff mark.
"Thank you, Alcina," Ethan said. "We'll take our leave now."
"Do enjoy your honeymoon, darlings.” Alcina nodded and gestured airily with her cigarette. “And take that hideous thing with you." Her eyes flicked, the trail of her smoke pointing as well in the direction you followed.
In the far corner stood Mold, hulking in a hunched-forward silhouette, all sinewy black musculature slick with a permanent oily sheen, taller shoulder cresting above the other.
Pinkish serum still oozed sluggishly from the torn stump, running in slow rivulets down the ridged flank of his body and dripping in fat drops on the marble.
He had been staring at the floor the whole time.
Ethan glanced at him, then nodded and turned toward the exit, keeping you tucked hard against his side and, in turn, you went with him while behind you, with a soft slurping shuffle of ichor-wet feet, Mold followed, single remaining arm hanging heavy at his side.
The great front doors of Castle Dimitrescu groaned outward and the freezing dusk-air of the mountain slammed into your face, snapping you awake.
Taking the same path of this afternoon now in reverse, snow crunched hard under your boots as Ethan's boots left deep, deliberate prints beside yours.
Overhead the sky had turned a bruised-gray, thickened with clouds and somewhere behind those clouds the sun was sinking.
Halfway down the switchback path, Ethan finally let go of your waist and you immediately felt the absence of him, a cold seam of air along your left side. He was digging in the pocket of that navy hoodie he wore under his golden heavy coat and pulled out two small silver bands, each had a small circular cavity set into its top face.
He held out one palm with both rings on it and with the other he took the two rubies to press them gently into its bezel. His thumbs worked around the edges, firming the settings, sealing the stones down snug. He held one ring up to the last of the light.
The crystal was deep red, pigeon-blood and unshadowed even in the failing evening, it seemed to glow from within.
He turned to you, blue eyes coming up under his brows almost shyly.
"Can I…?" he asked and lifted the ring between his fingers. "Would you let me put it on you?"
His voice was so soft that it was the thing undoing you every time. This gentle, hesitant Ethan, someone who could summon black tendrils out of the earth and turn anyone in awful monsters, asking you for permission to slide a ring onto your finger.
"Yes," you breathed and he took your left hand in his palm so warm, veins along the back of his hand faintly luminous, threads of pale blue moving under the skin as he lifted your knuckles to his mouth and pressed his lips to them.
A closed-mouth kiss, warm and dry, breath ghosting across your fingers.
When he lowered your hand slightly, his eyes glowed enough to be frightening, blue of his irises phosphorescent and you could see the reflection of your own face in them, small and pale, half hidden by your own knuckles.
Something warm and buoyant bloomed inside your ribcage that filled the whole cavity of your chest until your breath came shorter.
He slid the ring onto your ring finger and it fit perfectly as if he had measured you in your sleep.
Maybe he had.
The crystal caught the last strained shred of sunlight through the low clouds and threw a tiny red dot of light onto his cheek.
He put the other ring on his own finger and lifted your hand again to let both rings touch, tapping the stones together with a clear little tink.
"There," he murmured. "Now everybody knows."
You couldn't speak.
He tipped his head down the mountain and let his arm reclaim your waist. "Let's walk it, not that far if we cut through the trees. Duke's cart takes the long road but I know a shortcut."
Your stomach dropped a full inch at hearing his proposal.
"Wait. You want to walk through the woods?"
He turned his head sideways, corners of his eyes crinkling and his mouth pulled up into a small crooked grin. "You scared, sweetheart?"
"There are lycans in there, Ethan."
"Mm." That grin got wider. "I know."
"Nobody goes in there, since I was a kid, they've said—"
"You afraid to go in with me?" His arm at your waist pulled you into his side and the words were teasing before his voice dropped a shade. "A marriage means I protect what's mine now. You understand? That's what this is." He lifted your left hand, kissed the ring on your ring finger. "From now on, anything with teeth that comes near you goes through me first. That's a promise."
You couldn't argue with that, not with the way his glowing blue veins throbbed once at the base of his throat as he said it.
He led you off the switchback path and into the treeline, forest swallowing everything the instant you crossed under the first branches. Even without leaves, the trees were so thick and knotted that daylight didn't get through.
Every step crunched on a carpet of frozen needles and bracken and branch creaked overhead at every step, making your shoulders climb toward your ears, hair on your forearms wouldn't lie flat.
A shrill little screech came from behind and you spun your head sideways.
Mold had followed you in while walking with the same lumbering hunched gait, one arm hanging low, stump of the other still weeping pink.
"Ethan," you said, chest aching at the sight. "Can you help him?"
Ethan stopped mid-stride and turned to look at your same direction, then at you and his mouth quirked at the corner.
"How about you do it?"
"…What?"
He laughed at your face and the laugh puffed out in a small cloud of steam in the cold air. He fully turned to stand in front of you, boots crunching on frozen leaves and he tipped his chin toward Mold.
"Go on. Fix him."
"Ethan, I have no idea how to."
He stepped so close that his nose brushed the side of your face, mouth grazing your cheekbone and his breath was moist against your ear.
"Focus, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice had gone lower and private. "Focus on what you want, picture exactly every detail and close your eyes if it helps. Then… push it out of you."
You closed your eyes and held the shape of Mold's ruined side in your mind, remembering how his arm looked, all sinew and glossy black skin.
Something respond somewhere behind your ribcage, a warm little pull, like a thread being drawn out of you the more seconda passed by.
You opened your eyes just in time to see Mold's stump had erupted, this time there were fine white filaments braiding themselves out of the missing arm wound, millions of them spinning together like weaving thread, thickening and gathering density. The threads twisted around one another and hardened as, in seconds, a whole arm had reconstituted itself but where the old arm had been slick tar-black, this new one was pearl-white.
A very sharp sort of blade at its tip long and hooked but also ivory-pale. The whole arm gave off a mineral, mycelial smell.
Mold lifted his new arm slowly and turned the blade this way and that.
He didn’t had a face to read but the way he held that arm out and stared at it felt, unmistakably, like awe.
Ethan turned to you and his lips parted a fraction, glowing blue eyes going wide as they caught the last of the dusk.
"Sweetheart." His American accent was reverent, hand coming up and taking your waist, drawing you around to face him fully, chest to chest in the freezing dim of the forest. "I've never seen that white mold before. You’re really a special one."
His hand rose to your jaw and cupped it, the glowing blue veins in the back of his hand were pulsing faster now.
"How the hell was I even able to?" You started and your voice was shaking. "Ethan, I thought you were the only one able to—"
"Oh?" he said, teasing while leaning in, forehead touching yours. "Only me? Am I the only one allowed to do the freaky stuff? Because I'm the Lord? Because—" a soft laugh "—what was it? I'm the one who drives people crazy and… feeds on their energies? Isn't that what my sweet husband told me?"
You scoffed and lifted your free hand to smack him lightly on the chest, feeling the shape of his pectoral through the soft fabric of the hoodie, solid and dense, causing your hand to pause a second too long there before you remembered to pull it away.
"I never said any of that, you ass. That's what the crazy people in the village say."
"Mm-hm." His mouth was so close now. "So what do you say about me, then? How would you correct these legends?" His nose brushed yours and he tilted his head just slightly, lips nearly on yours. "What am I to you?"
Your gaze fell to his mouth and you couldn't help it. His lower lip was slightly chapped from the cold, upper one dipping in a soft cupid's bow and his stubble ran right up to the edge.
His pupils had dilated so wide that the blue of them was only a thin ring around the black now and even that thin ring was glowing.
There was a humming pressure in the air between you that you felt settle behind your sternum and thrum there. It made your breath come short and knees soften.
You had felt this before since he had come into your life, this warm, coaxing gravity around him drawing you into orbit.
He didn't have to try or force anything, his presence just reached into you and something in your chest opened toward him.
It was becoming harder to tell apart from your own will.
"You're someone I'm grateful for every day. You’ve saved my life and gave me a chance at something new and happier. Than I ever thought I could have." your voice cracked, softer now, hesitant.
His breath caught in his throat, fingers on your jaw moving to your cheek and then his whole palm settled there, cradling your face, thumb sweeping under your eye. The blue veins in the back of his hand were pulsing very fast now, bright as gaslamps, feeding light up into his fingertips and in the reflection of his glowing eyes, so close to your own, you saw yourself.
Your own eyes were glowing too and there were faint threads of that same light glowing under your skin, running down the sides of your neck and along the tendons of your arms.
His mold had taken hold in you or something newer the two of you had made together and it was answering him now, calling to him from inside your own flesh.
God, you were so breathtaking now under his eyes, still you yet remade entirely by him and for him.
His thumb traced the corner of your mouth possessively as he pulled back just enough to look around the darkening wood, hand sliding down and fingers threading through yours, ring clinking softly against his own.
"C'mere, I want to show you something."
He stepped further into the trees and Mold did not follow him this time but slid up to your side instead, walking on your right silently.
The white blade caught what little light there was and gleamed pale, almost bioluminescent. That clean cold mineral smell drifted off of it.
Ethan stopped in a small clearing where the trees opened slightly and he looked around, mouth pulling into something between a smile and a sad expression.
"A lot of people died here, sweetheart. All victims of experiments or attack from the results of said experiments. This whole slope is nothing but bones under the soil." He toed the frozen earth with the tip of his boot. "But you know what that means? I have material."
Soon the earth shuddered and you felt it up through the soles of your boots.
In a circle around the clearing, the ground broke open by clawed hands of the usual black fungal color, glossy with slime and fingers tipped in dagger-like nails, followed by the bodies of the molded creatures.
They pulled themselves up out of the earth. Some of them stood on two legs, hunched forward like Mold, teeth in their mouths in uneven rows and chins running with black liquid.
Others came out on four legs, low to the ground, quadrupedal, horribly agile and thin.
They rose and circled, a dozen of them or even more that oriented themselves on Ethan.
Some of them turned their eyeless faces toward you and inclined their heads.
Ethan turned back to you, face so calm and eyes still glowing while his hand extended towards you, waiting.
Placing your hand in his, the circle of monsters shifted and they took a step closer.
"I can teach you this," Ethan said softly. He raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles again, and even in the freezing air his lips were warm. "All I've figured out since I left everything behind." His thumb rubbed gentle circles over the back of your hand. "You have it in you, I felt it the first night and you could stand higher than anyone else, with me."
The monsters swayed and of them, a lean quadruped, took a slow step forward and lowered its head almost to the ground in front of you.
"And I promise you," Ethan whispered, so low you barely heard, "if you stay with me, I will make you happy.“
The wind moved through the black branches overhead and somewhere very far away a single lycan howled.
You looked up at the strange gentle terrible man Mother Miranda had given you, looking at the ruby on your finger, glowing faintly of its own accord in the gloom, warmed by the light under your skin.
Mold was at your right, standing patient and proud, new white blade held slightly lifted, catching the last thread of dusk.
You squeezed Ethan's hand.
"Alright," you said and a smile broke wide across his face.
"We're gonna have so much fun." He breathed and the black ring of monsters around you shivered as one at the sound of his voice.
The rest of the walk down through the wood felt more like a procession.
Ethan kept you tucked snug against his side, arm heavy and warm across your lower back. Every so often his thumb would rub a small slow circle into the denim just above the jut of the bone while the molded creatures were following in silence, or as close to silence as a horde of half-decayed fungal things could manage.
Their bare wet feet made no sound on the frozen needles as the bipedal ones lumbered in a loose wedge, long arms swinging heavy and their heads dipped side to side to smell the air.
The quadrupeds fanned out farther, ranging into the underbrush while occasionally one of them would pause, lift its faceless head and let out a small wet chuff of steam before it would keep moving. All of them oriented on Ethan but every few paces one or two would tilt their heads toward you very attentively.
Mold walked at your right, respectfully close with his new white blade that caught what little moonlight had begun to filter through the bare canopy, flashing ghost-luminous in the dark.
You had walked maybe another quarter mile when the first howl came but Ethan didn't even slow his pace, he glanced once toward the source and his glowing blue eyes narrowed.
The molded around you did not need to be told. Two of the quadrupeds peeled off from the flank and streaked away into the dark, black bodies vanishing between trunks in the space of two heartbeats.
A lycan had bursted out of the brush and Mold was already at your side with his new white blade already raised.
The lycan had slammed into him and tried to claw at his chest with both paws and the wounds were closing rapidly, white filaments spinning themselves back together, hair-fine, glittering and the ragged edges of Mold's flesh knit shut in front of your eyes.
While the lycan was rearing back for another blow, Mold turned his shoulder and drove the ivory blade forward as it went through the lycan's chest so cleanly and its whole body sagged onto the shaft up to the point where Mold's arm met its ribs.
Mold had let it slide off the blade and it hit the frozen ground before he had lowered his hunched black head and began to feed.
The wet ripping sounds each led inside your head still.
By the time you cleared the last of the trees, the sky over the mountain had gone full night, thick with clouds and the roof of Ethan's house was visible ahead.
The moment your boots touched the packed dirt of the yard, the molded creatures behind you stopped, both you and Ethan turned and he was smiling faintly.
All of them sank into the ground as their body dissolved and waited for their master to summon them again.
Mold had not gone with the others. He was standing at the edge of the yard, big hunched silhouette half-lit by moonlight while he was looking at you. Or, well, he did not have eyes, but his head was tilted in your direction, angled just slightly and the tilt was unmistakably at you.
Very slowly, Mold lowered his head and you found yourself, without meaning to, dipping your own head in return. When you raised your eyes again, he too was already melting into the earth.
"He likes you," Ethan said, low and amused, close to your ear.
Your throat was tight for reasons you didn't understand while Ethan led you up the porch, boots thudding on the wooden boards and he pushed open the front door.
He had a look on his face that was a mix between embarrassed and determination as he bent.
His right arm hooked under the crook of your knees, calloused pads of his fingers dragging warm across the denim of your thigh while his left arm slid behind your shoulder blades and settled hot into your back, broad palm splayed wide against you and he grunted low in his chest to lift you up.
Your center of gravity swung out and up and settled against him and there was one dizzying second of weightlessness where your stomach dropped, legs kicking out in surprise before your arms went, entirely on instinct, up around his neck.
Both hands locked behind his nape, face ending up tucked against the warm side of his throat right where his jaw met the tendon.
A breathless, boyish laugh left his mouth that cracked in the middle, half a wheeze. "God, you're heavier than you look, sweetheart."
"Hey!"
"Joking, I got you don’t worry." He was grinning against your temple. He hitched you slightly higher in his arms with a small bounce that made you gasp and clutch at his neck.
The door hadn't fully opened and he wasn't going to fumble with it while holding you.
As he approached the porch step, a whole cascade of thin black vines slithered up out of the boards at the base of the doorframe, moving with the smooth muscular grace of eels and they wound up the door itself, pushing it wide open in front of him.
He walked through the opening with you cradled tight against his chest, ducking his head slightly so your temple wouldn't catch the frame and the vines pulled the door softly shut behind him, withdrawing down into the floorboards, gone.
While carrying you through the foyer he was still grinning like an idiot, crooked flush-cheeked grin and every few steps he'd hitch you higher and mutter, "don't wiggle—" and you'd laugh helplessly into his neck.
At the foot of the stairs he paused to make a show of it and he looked down at you with those blue eyes, one eyebrow cocked.
"Ethan, put me down, I can walk."
"Nope." The banister creaked under his hand as he passed and halfway up you tried, very quietly, to peek at his face and see if he was struggling and he caught you looking, immediately making an exaggerated ‘hyuh!’ sound like he was going to drop you and you clutched at his neck, making him laugh so hard he actually did wobble one step.
"Ethan!"
"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't help it." He made it to the top landing and breathing harder now from laughing.
His cheeks were flushed pink under the stubble and his hair had gotten a bit messier.
The door to his room was already opening for him from a slender black vine that had unspooled from the wall to twist the handle down and press the door inward, it stayed there, curled around the doorknob.
He carried you through and the vine drew the door shut behind him with a soft click.
The bedroom was warmer than the rest of the house and he crossed to the bed to set you down on the coverlet with care before standing over you and just looking.
Looking around because you’ve actually never been in his bedroom before.
The floor was a warm herringbone of dark polished wood and there was a heavy dresser against the wall with a small oil lamp on it. A big bed you were currently lying on that had a chevron-patterned quilt in dark green and cream, mounded pillows.
On the floor at the foot of the bed, a soft green plush turtle with a pink shell, a set of wooden blocks in primary colors and a little painted wooden car, small pale yellow rubber ball and a baby's play arch with dangling animals stitched to it.
Your gaze moved slowly across the questionable toys in his room, up to Ethan's face that had gone briefly, terribly still. He was looking at the toys too before his eyes came back to yours and there was something in them, some unspeakable old grief, wrapped over so many years that it had gone smooth. His mouth did not curve down, jaw not clenching but only looking and then he let out a very small breath.
Neither of you said a thing and some part of you understood, without having to be told, that whatever those toys meant, they were very heavy in meaning and not to be touched with words.
His large calloused hand rose and cradled your cheek, thumb sweeping under your eye. His skin was warm and the veins in the back of his hand pulsed faint blue. M
"Hey, look at me. Your heart's going a mile a minute," he murmured, corner of his lips curling upward as his thumb traced the line of your cheekbone. "I can feel it right in here." His other hand had come to rest, flat and heavy, right over your sternum. "You don't have to do anything you don’t want, sweetheart." His eyes flicked around the room, back to you. “This doesn't have to happen, I'd be happy just to hold you."
His hand at your chest pressed lightly, reassuring.
You looked up at him and heart was, indeed, beating rather fast but the warmth radiating off his palm through the thin fabric of your shirt was working its steady way into the inside of your ribs and the humming pressure in the air around him had softened into something coaxing that reached into the base of your skull.
No clue honestly how much of what you felt now was yours and how much of it was his, but you weren't sure you cared.
"I want this with you," you said, voice coming out lower than you meant it to.
His pupils dilated, blue of his eyes narrowing into a thin ring around wide black.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you whispered.
He was on you before you could take another breath, coming down over you slowly, planting one knee up on the mattress and easing his weight down with one big hand behind the back of your head cradling you flat, laying you back into the pillows. He propped himself over you on his forearms, hips braced above yours while lowering his mouth to yours.
The first kiss was just a press in greeting before his lips molded to yours and his mouth parted, wet warmth of him opening against you, followed by the slow soft slide of his tongue.
It traced the seam of your lips first, testing and when you opened for him with a small helpless breath, he came in slowly, tongue sliding against yours with heat that made a shiver run all the way down to your knees.
He rolled his tongue against yours and drew it back, every time he retreated a fraction and lured yours after him, drawing you in.
Your hands buried themselves in his hair, slightly damp from the woods as you fisted a handful of it at the crown of his skull and he made a low pleased sound against your mouth, vibrating through your lips into your teeth.
He tilted his head the other way and came back deeper as you felt your whole body warming, top of your head first, then your throat and after that, treacherously, further down.
His broad shoulders blotted out the lamplight and framed the whole room down to just him.
When he finally pulled back, he was breathing hard, mouth pinker than it had been and very wet, cheeks flushed and the ring around his blue irises had gone almost fully luminous, throbbing gently in time with the veins in his neck and the backs of his hands.
Something brushed your side.
You looked down, breath held as you saw black fungal tendrils, glossy while moving.
Two of them had risen from the sides of the mattress and were drifting just above your ribs, one of them lowered itself and grazed the exposed strip of skin above your hipbone where your shirt had ridden up.
Another traced the line of your bicep through the fabric of your sleeve, almost curious in their behavior
You made a soft sound in your throat.
Ethan smiled down at you, breathless, his mouth slick. "Sorry, sorry. I got a bit excited and it’s… kinda hard controlling everything every time. I can make 'em stop."
"No," you heard yourself say. "No. Don't."
His pupils blew out again, breath dragging in through his teeth.
"Sweetheart," he breathed and lowered his forehead to yours, breath ghosting hot across your mouth. "In those dreams you've been having…" his voice was so low and private that you felt the words vibrate on your own lips "we did a couple of things together, you remember?"
God, you did. As if waking up from those dreams flushed and shaking, unsure whether they had been sent to you or whether you had wanted them all along.
This was the confirm he had been the pioneer of those all along.
"I remember," you whispered.
"I was hoping if tonight we might try something a little… different." He smiled while those tendrils carassed all possible piece of skin exposed and it was a dangerous, tender smile.
He kissed the corner of your mouth. "But only if you want."
The pressure in the air around you thickened and the low warm hum that always spun out of him settled deep into the pit of your abdomen and pulled, feeling yourself opening toward him.
"Please, Ethan. Please. I want it… whatever you want." Your voice came out even smaller than before, rough at the bottom.
His eyes closed for a moment and he shuddered all the way down through his shoulders and into his hips where they braced above yours.
"Good," he breathed. "That's my good boy."
The tendrils moved and they came from every direction at once.
Two of them snaked up along your arms as your fingers, still buried deep in his dirty-blond hair, spasmed. They curled up your forearms in wet spirals and they so gently pried your hands free of Ethan's hair. They looped around your wrists and drew your arms up over your head to pin them into the pillows.
Then the two tendrils fused right at the point above your wrists, joining wetly into a single thicker cord, twice the strength and twice the grip so that both your wrists were bound together and held high. Your shoulders stretched and ribs lifted, back arching up off the mattress.
Another set of tendrils came up from below the bed and coiled around your ankles to spread you insistently, sliding your knees wide apart and settling your bare feet flat against the mattress with your legs bent at the knee.
Then they slithered further up under the hems of your jeans, over the tops of your socks and started their long slow travel up along the inside of your calves.
Goosebumps sparked wherever they touched, sharp constellations of them running up along your shins and up over your knees.
The instant they crossed your knees you gasped and they kept going.
Under your jeans, snugging against the skin of your inner thighs as they slid up until they reached the crease of your groin.
Together, they turned inward and they found your boxers, worm up under the waistband, and settled. One of them slid its cool wet length up along the underside of your cock, curling gently around the shaft from base to tip and the other spooled up under your sack, curling and stroking.
A soft high sound broke out of you before both tendrils withdrew backward, sliding along the crack and settling themselves.
One at each side of your hole, pressing in gently from both sides and framing the entrance without breaching it.
Two smooth cool weights right against your rim, pressure of them squeezing your entrance from either side, kneading softly.
This made you actually whine and Ethan was watching your face the whole time, blue eyes glowing and lips parting, worship and hunger all at once.
Your back arched as far as it could with your wrists pinned overhead and you bit your bottom lip until you tasted iron, cock throbbing hot inside your boxers, held snug in the coil of one of the tendrils, which had begun very lightly, to squeeze along its length in rippling pulses.
"Do you want—" Ethan asked and his voice was rough as gravel now, all boyishness burnt off it, "—this?"
The two tendrils at your entrance moved, one of them slid up as its tip pressed gently at your hole and you tensed on reflex, but it was so patient and you were already so slick (you hadn't even understood how you were slick, thought all your veins were currently phosphorescent so that could definitely had a contribution) while these tendrils themselves were coating you in some warm oil-thick fluid as they moved. The tip that went in first was small, not much thicker than a finger but it pressed deeper and sank while, surprisingly, beginning to swell.
You felt it thicken inside your walls as it went from finger-thick to two-fingers, then three till it got even wider and your mouth fell open, a punched-out sound came out from your throat and your hips lifted off the mattress on their own.
Another tendril drifted up beside your face and stroked slowly down your cheek, wiping the tear that had spilled out of the corner of your eye.
"—or…" Ethan breathed above you and his voice had gone hoarse, "this?"
The swelling tendril shrank back to its original size in one smooth pulse and then, before you could process the loss, a second tendril, matched in girth to the first, pressing itself alongside its twin at your entrance and began to ease in beside it.
Both at once, slow and patient, widening you out around them.
Your toes curled hard into the coverlet and both of your feet pointed, back arching so high that a second tear slid down your temple.
Ethan let out a husky, breathless laugh that got caught in his chest.
"Yeah," he murmured and there was a wolf-grin at the edges of his mouth. "I thought so. This one, then. Look at you." He lowered his forehead to yours and kissed the tip of your nose before rising up onto his knees.
The one maddening part was that he was still fully clothed while those things he summoned and controlled were stretching you open around, one of them curling around your cock inside your boxers, another stroking softly along your bound wrists and he was still in his blue hoodie and jeans.
He grinned down at you and reached over his shoulder with one hand to grab the hoodie by the back of the neck and hauling it up over his head in one long drag. The hem caught briefly on his stubble, hair mussing itself further as he tossed the hoodie somewhere behind him.
Underneath he wore a plain white t-shirt and that came off next in one quick motion that made the muscles across his shoulders roll.
Pale under the shirt, lean and corded, different scars. His left hand had awful stitches all around it at wrist level and some glossy black mold dripped from them occasionally, there were also blue veins pulsing beneath his sternum, radiating a bit everywhere just like your own body.
He unbuckled his belt, shoved the jeans down his hips and off, taking his boxers with them and he was hard, dick standing up thick and heavy against his lower abdomen along a subtle sheen at its base.
As if the mold's craftsmanship had extended even here, adding girth, length and a hot flushed weight that made your throat close.
He crawled back up over you.
"Not yet," he murmured, seeing where you were looking, running his knuckles down your cheek.
He hooked two fingers into the collar of your shirt and worked it off, lowering his mouth and pressing warm kisses to your collarbone, dip of your throat and valley between your pecs, stubble scraping soft against you and leaving behind an addictive burning sensation.
His tongue was hot as it flicked around your hard nipple right over the peak and you cried out involuntarily, hips bucking up off the mattress and driving the two tendrils deeper in and your bound wrists yanked hard against the tendril at your head as you sobbed.
Ethan hummed against your chest and his tongue circled you, every time making your cock throb harder inside the coil that held it.
He switched to your other nipple, tongue flattening and dragging before it peaked and flicked, dragging again right after as you writhed and shook your trembling bound arms.
All along your chest and your abdomen faint threads of light were pulsing under the skin, tracing the paths of veins, following the ladder of your ribs and gathering into a soft nimbus at the center of your sternum.
Every time your cock throbbed, the light did the same with it, running down the insides of your thighs, spreading up along your throat.
Ethan lowered his head to a rib and kissed one of the glowing lines.
"So handsome," he breathed.
He shifted to prop himself up on one elbow and his free hand went, unmistakably from what you could assume from the limited vision you had, down to his own cock.
Wrapping his fingers around it and began to stroke himself with his gaze fixed on your face and occasionally dropping the the work his mold powers had were up to, letting you know the sight of you like this was doing things to him.
The two tendrils inside you began to move, pumping in and out together, then alternating. When one withdrew, the other pushed deeper and they swelled by half a shade whenever they were fully seated inside before slimming to slide back out.
One of them had learned, already, exactly the angle that made you sob as it found your prostate ad hammered it, throbbing, while its twin fucked deep against it from the other side.
Those around your cock squeezed in matching pulses, slow up-strokes and slow down-strokes as its tip flicked cruelly along the slit at the head of you, gathering up the slick pre-come that dribbled out of you and smearing it back down along your shaft.
Ethan's fist worked his own cock in time with the tendrils.
"That's it," he was breathing and his abdomen muscles were flexing hard now, shadows between them deep and beautiful, "that's it, sweetheart, look at you, made for me."
You came without warning, the tendrils inside you pushed deep at exactly the wrong moment and the one around your cock squeezed tight, whole body of yours arching up off the mattress and into one long white line as your cock jerked hard inside the tendril's coil and hot spurts of come pumped out of you in thick pulses, hitting the underside of Ethan's abs and your own belly in many splashes.
The come landed white and hot on the glowing filaments under your skin and it lit up brighter where it fell, you could feel yourself glowing brighter through the release, mouth opening around a sound you didn't recognize as yours.
Ethan grabbed the base of his own cock hard and squeezed to stop himself.
"Fffff—" he hissed through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. "Christ, sweetheart."
You lay there panting while the tendrils inside you had slowed to a gentle rocking, keeping you stretched and warm. Your bound wrists tremble overhead, come cooling on your belly and your cock, still hard and trapped in its coil, twitches softly.
Ethan opened his eyes and looked down at the breath taking mess he had below.
"You want me?" he asked, hoarse. "You want me, sweetheart?"
The pressure in the room had gone thick, low humming behind your sternum climbing into your skull and it was pulling every good soft word you had ever thought about him up out of your throat, setting them on your tongue.
"Please," you whispered. "Please, Ethan. Please… in me. Please. I love—" your breath hitched and he made a broken sound that cracked out of his throat.
The two tendrils inside you slid out slowly both at once in one long retreat that left you gaping empty and gasping at the loss. The one at your cock loosened and slid down your thigh and unspooled while those at your ankles kept your legs spread, even the combined two at your wrists stayed.
He wanted you held as be crawled up over you on hands and knees, cock heavy between his hips, blue veins glowing in a slow throbbing tracery down his forearms. He hooked one of your knees up over his elbow and folded you nearly in half.
The veins of your body were glowing so bright than you could see the shadow of his cock against your inner thigh as lined himself up.
He was so much bigger than the tendrils, blunt hot pressure of him alone at your entrance making you hiss through clenched teeth and he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours and his glowing blue eyes bored into yours.
"Breathe," he whispered. "Breathe, sweetheart. I got you. I'll go slow, promise."
Following his instructions as he breathed with you, in and out.
In and out.
He pushed, head of him breaching you and the world went white at the edges. Your hands fisted uselessly in the coil above your head, back arching as he pressed his mouth to yours in the same instant and swallowed the sound.
He sank in so slowly it felt like it took the whole night, every inch demanding a new adjustment that made you gasp and stretch, he was so hot and so thick inside you.
Thank God those molded tendrils helped out otherwise you wouldn’t imagine how unpleasant and challenging this would have been.
He bottomed out with a soft, deep grunt, hips flush against the backs of your thighs and he held there for a full ten seconds while both of you shook.
"Fuck," he breathed, eyes watering. "Christ, sweetheart."
You could only pant at this point and the situation got worse in the best way possible when he started to move.
He drew back only a few inches and pushed back in and even that was almost too much while he watched your face for any wince and adjusted every time. Slowly he let himself take more range, half of him and then most of him, the whole length going in long, deep drags that made the head of his cock hammer across your prostate.
It made a hoarse whimper break out of your throat.
His mouth was everywhere, kissing the glowing lines under your skin and murmuring into your ear a steady low stream of ‘you feel so good, look at you, my sweet boy, my sweetheart,‘
He picked up his pace.
Deeper and faster but never brutal, hips snapping into yours with a wet slap of skin on skin that echoed off the wood-paneled walls. The bed creaked under you rhythmically and the tendril at your wrists tightened its coil in time with his thrusts.
Those at your ankles held you wide open for him and every time he bottomed out they hitched a fraction wider, opening you further and giving him more.
His left hand came down to your cock, which was leaking and hard again, glowing so brightly that his fist around it lit up in a mixture of your colors as he stroked you in time with his thrusts.
"Ethan! Ohhhh God—"
"I know, sweetheart. Come for me, come on. Let me feel it."
You came harder this time, so hard you thought you might have broken something in yourself but even if that was the case you’d have healed in no time.
Your whole body clenched around him, tight and the light under your skin pulsed so bright that for a moment you couldn't see, cock spurting hot into his stroking fist in long ropes that landed on both of your abdomens as you sobbed his name.
He fucked you through it without slowing down while you spasmed around him, riding it out and drawing every last shudder out of you until you were boneless and shaking, whimpering with each stroke.
Then his rhythm broke and he drove in hard, broad chest crushing down against yours and his forehead ground into the pillow beside your head as he groaned deep in his chest.
Even through the shaking you felt the hot heavy pulse of him deep inside filling every inch of you and there was so much of it that just kept coming, his whole body shuddered against yours in long ragged waves and his fingers dug into the meat of your thigh where he was still holding your leg up, groaning your name into the pillow muffled and adoring.
He collapsed onto you but even then he caught himself on his elbows at the last second, caging your body without crushing you. His sweat-damp forehead pressed against your temple and warm breath tore out of him in ragged gulps.
His cock, still buried deep, twitched more times inside you and each motion pumped another slow warm pulse that made you moan softly against his neck.
The tendrils at your wrists uncurled slowly, your arms came down around him without your telling hold to and wrapped around his back to held him there against your chest.
Those at your ankles eased free too and your legs fell open around his hips while he just breathed against your throat.
"…hi," he mumbled after a long moment and it was so dreamy and wrecked that a broken laugh spilled out of you.
"Hi," you whispered back.
His hand found yours in the pillow above your head and his fingers tangled with yours, two rings clicking softly together as he turned his head and kissed the shell of your ear.
