vampirism + knighthood: my helm is a muzzle my charge put on me to keep me from feeding- sometimes removing it and letting me feed from him as a reward, but also so that when i’m freed of its confines before his enemies i am ravenous. bloodthirsty. a living weapon ready to tear through flesh. like a caged dog before a feast.
asking my lady if i've been a good knight despite falling off my horse twice during the tournament (my armor is covered in mud and i look fucking stupid)
two knights who grew up together and have been fiercely competitive for every accolade they could possibly get their hands on
every ride outside the castle grounds becomes a race, every sparring match it's own tournament, every story told grows comically exaggerated, punctuated by jostling elbows and disbelieving grins.
every sparring match ends up a tie, and they settle things on the cold stone floor of their room, because of course they share one. neither of them ever wins there, either, each too focused on pleasuring the other to think about their own reactions. hands grasping and squeezing, teeth nipping, delighted laughter trailing off into not-so-subtle moaning...
ever since @ser-william-the-third reposted this post by @midsummers-knight i have not stopped thinking about the concept of heated chivalry ty both <3
their rivalry is a volatile, practically living thing, sharpened daily by the relentless, breathless pursuit of excellence. the tension of it all reaches a breaking point in their quarters; there's no concession in it, just a desperate, keening struggle for the upper hand.
the air in the room is thick with the salt-metallic-human tang of sweat and arousal; one focuses his attentions on the other, his hands mapping out the muscles and scars of his partner's body, half of which he put there in the first place. he leans in, teeth finding their place in the crook of the other's neck, latching and sucking in a dark bruise, a sort of first blood.
the other gasps beneath the sting of the bite, his breath rushing out of him as the attention afforded to him slips lower, calloused hands and a sharp nose and sharper teeth sweeping over his collarbones, his chest, tweaking at his nipples, then lower, parting the folds of his cunt with a ragged groan. his tongue flicks out against the slick, pulsing wetness there, determined to draw out a strangled "yield." of course, it doesn't come, and the knight on his back only grits his teeth, biting back a moan of pleasure as the other slips his fingers into his dripping pussy...
a moment of hesitation from the first is the second of advantage the other needs, and he presses himself upwards, and his partner down. he's quick to capitalize on the change, his knees knocking against the cold floor on either side of his opponent's hips, his face flushed, eyes glassy and dark. he returns the earlier blows, leaving his own dark mark over his friend's chest, the ghost of a bite left behind with it as he rolls his hips down. his wet cunt drags over his friend's hard cock.
beneath him, the other knight is a painting of taut muscles and an orchestra of strained, tight gasps, his jaw clenched as he fights to keep his composure, though the wet, sliding friction of the other finally taking his cock into his cunt makes it increasingly difficult to.
they set a blistering pace, each grinding down and thrusting up, a mess of need and want and endless competitive spirit. the pressure reaches an unbearable tension, each desperate to be the first to push the other over the edge; yet again, the fight ends in a stalemate, both muffling their groans into the other's shoulder as they cum.
even as they collapse into each other, chests heaving, utterly fucked out, they're competitive, as if the first to let go will lose some unspoken challenge
reminder that kink doesn't have to be all hard dom/sub dynamics and shit like its perfectly cool to just be some people trying weird shit out and seeing what you like and having fun
snowghoul
janainaart
ellievsbear
jacobvanloon
blakekathryn
