#gentle.repose

[cryst4lb4ll]

Wild that not only has qMissa said that qPhil and him fucked but also Fitpac both were saying that they not only fuck but are into ropes. Welcome back lgbtqsmp.

[cryst4lb4ll]

Here's the poll winning fic!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I'll be putting it under a line as well, in case people prefer reading it here instead. I never know the preference, so I'll just post both.

There was barely time to close the door with how insistent Phil was. Mating season, Missa was vaguely aware of. But having a ‘nesting partner’ as Phil explained it made it even worse. Phil’s feathers were buzzing with movement, his eyes that normally looked a human blue had pupils blown wide, his breath erratic. 

“Phil- Please, what is it? Can I help you?”

Phil’s vice grip on his arm tightened. A sharp breath sucked into Missa’s lungs at the feeling of talons breaching skin. 

The noise that came out of Phil sounded animalistic- hoping, no, needing whatever Phil craved. “If you don’t fuck a baby into me, mate, I’m gonna bite your cock off and do it myself.”

Immediately, heat pooled into his stomach, any blood flow he had left went straight to his cock, he could feel it hardening in his pants. Maybe he liked Phil talking mean to him a little more than he should, but Missa wasn’t in the headspace to be thinking too much. All he could do was rattle his head into a nod. That was all Phil needed. He quickly ripped off his robe, only leaving the sleeveless black bodysuit, a heart keyhole cut at his throat. If Missa was being honest, that black bodysuit had a star role in many of Missa’s fantasies. 

Eyes swooped down to catch the wet patch that was in between Phil’s legs, and by the time Missa looked back up, the man’s other arm was on his and Missa was slammed into the nearest wall. Hungrily, Phil dove in, his mouth smashing into Missa’s in a mess of teeth and tongue. Lips were certainly bleeding, Phil’s tongue was shoved down the reaper’s throat, and Phil drew even closer still. Caging Missa in by resting his forearms on the wood behind Missa, wings creating a canopy, and one knee rutting against Missa’s crotch.

A whine pulled out of Missa’s throat, giving him much needed air. He was getting lightheaded, but Phil didn’t stop. Canines bite into Missa's throat, making the man throw back his head against the wall, a whimper in response. Phil's greedy tongue lapped up any blood, circling the man's jugular.

‘“you are wearing way too many fucking clothes.” Phil growled out, and before Missa could move, Phil already had undid the clasp on his cloak and, with his razor sharp talons, ripped the heavy fabric like it was nothing. It was a miracle Missa didn't cum. Phil's predatory black gaze rolled over his chest, showing the skeletal markings that covered his skin. All Missa could do was pant out a mumbled response. 

“Well? Where do you want me to uhm. To fuck you?”

Phil's eyes glinted. Dangerous. His grin was hungry. “Everywhere. I want you to fuck me until I'm leaking. Make sure it takes.”

Missa gulped in response, but the smirk didn't leave Phil as he grabbed Missa's wrist and yanked him over to the dining table. This time, Missa didn't need to wait for orders. Phil grinned wider, bending himself over the table. The reaper could see the folds of Phil's cloaca through the body suit, drenched and leaking through thin fabric.

“Aw, mate. Don't tell me you're getting performance shy now. Not when I can see your cock through your trousers.”

Missa huffed, even though it was true. He quickly shimmied out of his pants, and it was true, his cock was wet and leaking. A tentacle more than anything, that was a blue-violet. It matched the bones on his body. He hesitated, going to unclip the shit for ease, but Phil’s feather clad hand stopped him. 

“Fuck me in it,” He said simply, as the reaper’s eyes widened. Phil glanced over his shoulder, moving his wings out of the way just to make smug eye contact. “I'm not blind, mate. I see how you look at me when I'm wearing it.”

Embarrassment creeped into Missa's senses, but he didn't speak, which Phil took as response enough, humming and wiggling his ass for any sort of friction. A hiss of air escaped the Mexican at the movement. With a shaky hand, he moved the thin piece of fabric to reveal his prize, mouth watering at the sight. Phil's cloaca was wet, strings of cum sticking to the body suit. What Missa wouldn't give to lap at the drenched cloth, tasting the same older man. Nothing tasted sweeter than Phil. There'd be time. At least he hoped so. But he thinks if he denied his husband’s wishes for any longer, Phil would take matters into his own hands, which Missa wouldn’t mind but it would irritate his lover, no doubt.

A shaky breath raked through his ribs as he kept the fabric tightly to the side with his thumb, pushing his cock in slowly. A whine left his mouth, facing towards the sky as his one hand moved to Phil’s hip, the other still holding the fabric. Still kneading the British man’s ass. Phil’s wings made a fluttering motion, as Phil’s moan turned into a chuckle. 

“Mmm…you stretch me out well.”

“Well, you’ve always liked bigger sizes.” Missa mumbled, making Phil grin wickedly and look behind him. A beautiful curtain of blonde hair shielded part of his face, making Missa’s heart stutter. 

“Move for me, love.”

That’s all Missa needed as approval, slotting out experimentally before snapping back into Phil. Moaning in tandem, Missa slowly worked his way into a fast rhythm, the table creaking with every thrust. Trills, caws, and fluttering wings of approval filled the space, the reaper’s own whimpers and high pitched moans combining with it. This piece of fabric was becoming a nuisance. With a growl, Missa ripped the thing, giving him more space to hit Phil where it mattered. A gasp came out of the man below him, but already Missa was leaning forward over the table, right between Phil’s wings.

He grabbed a fist of blonde hair, Phil moaning at the feeling as Missa’s mouth was pressed right against the man’s ear. “You want more babies, huh? I’ll fuck one into you, mi amor.” his voice was low and dark, Missa could feel Phil’s feathers quiver in anticipation. “I’ll fuck as many in you as you want. Tell me, do you want a boy or a girl?” Phil only groaned in response, his eyes rolling back into his head and his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“I was thinking about twins too. Maybe triplets. I think you’d like being that full of my hatchlings.” Missa smirked, nibbling on Phil’s ear and licking the shell. Rarely was Missa confident in front of Phil. But oh, when he was like this, his brain fucked-out of his head, only able to make bird-like noises, it drove Missa wild. His thrusts were getting erratic, the coil in his stomach tightening to the point of strangulation. Quickly, Missa pressed his hand over Phil’s, squeezing it as a warning.

“Breed me. Be a good nesting partner and breed me, Missa.” The last words coming out of gritted teeth.

Missa whined out in response, his thrusts growing to a bruising pace as Phil panted out; “Fuck me, pretty boy.”

The reaper closed his eyes, seeing the neurons firing behind his eyelids as rope after rope of glowing blue cum filled Phil, with Phil not far behind as he clenched tight around Missa’s cock and moaned, a high pitched whine molding into the noise.

Panting together, Missa pulled out, looking at the masterpiece before him. Philza, splayed out, his wings still twitching as he panting with his stomach on the wood of the dining table. Scratchmarks where his claws met wood littered the table, his hair was a mess from the pulling, and a little bit of blue glowing cum dripped out of his cloaca. Missa smiled and kneeled down, pressing kisses to Phil’s ass and moving his kisses all the way up to his shoulders.

“You did so well, mi amor.” he hummed out, as Phil smiled and turned, their kiss open-mouthed and sloppy.

Missa presumed that it was time to carry his beloved to bed, and spend the rest of the day sleeping off the mess they have made of one another. He presumed wrong. It was a blur to him, but somehow he ended up on a closeby couch, still naked, and Phil slowly crawling up through his legs to his chest. With a sharp toothed grin, Phil rested himself on Missa’s hips, who groaned at the stimulation of Phil’s cloaca, still wet, right on his cock.

“And we’ll keep doing well,” Phil’s voice was scratchy, predatory, a feral energy in his eyes, a far cry from the usual calm, composed nature of his husband. The older man grabbed the last bits of black fabric that clung to him, one hand on each side, and ripped, revealing his chest covered in black feathers. It felt like Missa’s eyes were going to pop out of his head, his face bright with blush. Perhaps it was too late that Missa was realizing just how intense a heat was. “You were talking a big game, mate. Twins. If we want that…” the Avian pressed his hands onto Missa’s chest, his hips grinding his pussy down. Even that friction left Missa’s brain haywire, making focus hard to keep on anything other than the man on top of him. “We’ll keep going and going and going until I’m full of your cum. You wanna give that to me?”

“Yes…” he panted out, “Yes, yes, yes, please, mi amor, mi rey, mi vida…” a gasp makes his back arch off the couch, as Phil lets Missa slip in without any warning. So warm, so so tight it made Missa see stars. A sob racks out of the Mexican, and Phil only laughs.

“You sound so pretty, every time you whimpered for me in public it took everything to not fuck you right there.”

Missa can feel tears welling in his eyes. He’s still over stimulated from the round moments before, but everything feels raw, and so nice being at Phil’s whim. Instinctively, his hands reach to knead at Phil’s ass, so hard he could leave bruises. Anything to make Phil speed up. A moan rips out of the bird hybrid, his head towards the ceiling, but his grin is unwavering. “That’s it, fill me up and fuck me just like this.”

A sob rips through Missa, his hands shakily leaving Phil to find a way to shield his face, grab fabric, save his dignity of being the pathetic man everyone sees him as, even in sex. A forearm goes across his eyes, but it doesn’t last, with Phil moving one hand to his hips, the other hand entangling fingers with Missa’s own. 

“You’re so pretty, Missa. So fucking beautiful. My perfect nesting partner.” he mumbles, his eyes full of love, lust, adoration. It all felt too much. 

“Mi cielo, mi cuervito- estoy tan cerca, por favor, mi amor, por favor déjame-” It sounded like babble, even to Missa.

“I know, I know,” Philza spoke quiet and low, loving and sweet. It made Missa whimper. “Just a little longer.”

Missa managed out a nod, pounding up into Phil, the sound of slapping skin and fluid filling the house, Phil punching out short moans with every thrust. There was no way Missa could last much longer. Every movement felt dizzying, the only thing grounding him to this mortal plane was his husband’s touch and warm, devoted smile he had. Any moment now. Any moment Missa would-

“Cum for me.”

That’s all it took. An open mouth, silent scream left Missa, his body kept thrusted in Phil. He could see himself bulging against Phil’s pale skin. Soon, Phil tumbled after that all too familiar clench flooding Missa’s senses. Phil managed to shimmy himself off of Missa eventually. His hair was tangled and looked like straw. His eyes were barely open, and his mouth was swollen from all the kissing. He smelled like sweat. He’s the most beautiful man Missa has ever seen.

Phil flopped onto Missa’s chest, the two panting in time just to catch their breaths before Missa started giggling.

The bird man’s brows furrowed, and he rested his chin on Missa’s chest, tilting his head in question. “Eres tan lindo, mi cuervito.” his hand rubbed the space between Phil’s wings- what part of his back he could reach. And that, out of everything, made Phil blush. 

“Alright, alright.” he muttered, but the smile on his lips was undeniable. There was a moment of silence before Phil spoke again. “This is going to be our lives for three more days. You know that, right?”

Missa felt positively boneless, his smile soft. “Mhmmmm. Soy tu compañero, te amo.”

Phil flapped his wings, nerves clearly still on his mind. “...Are you sure? You can leave.”

Missa sighed, pulling Phil’s chin up with his hand and pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” Missa managed, his brain slowly unscrambling enough to speak English, “What is a moon without its sun?”

Phil huffed, but his grin was still evident. “Sap.” He mumbled, his lips capturing his husband’s once more.