#wizard!verse

[evilwriter37]

Kinktober Day 3: Viggo, Please

Rated: explicit

Warnings: none

Pairings: Hiccup/Viggo

Word Count: 1,356

Summary: Continuation of my wizard!verse. Hiccup and Viggo have developed a whole new relationship after using sex magic.

Hiccup and Viggo had continued their sexual relationship after using sex magic to revive the baby dragon. They’d discovered that they weren’t just close as master and apprentice, but as lovers too. There was a connection between them that felt primal and electric, unlike anything Hiccup had ever felt before. 

Now, Viggo played his fingers over Hiccup’s chest, the tips nearly burning him with the touch of magic. Viggo would play with temperature with him, changing his touches from hot to cold. Currently, it was hot, and Hiccup very much liked it. 

Hiccup hummed in pleasure, curved into Viggo’s burning fingers. He wanted him to touch him in other places, but he was holding off from it. For now, it was just his chest. 

Viggo gently brushed his nipples, and Hiccup made a growling sound at that. He very much liked that feeling. 

“C-could you get on with it?” Hiccup panted out. 

“In due time.” Viggo’s voice was terribly smooth, like he himself didn’t have an erection sitting between his legs. 

“Please,” Hiccup got out as he rubbed over one nipple with a heated finger. When he touched the other one, his finger was so cold it burned, and that had Hiccup hissing and arching. 

Viggo chuckled. “Always good to see you like this.”

This was Hiccup naked on his back in Viggo’s large bed, the man nestled firmly between his bare legs. Hiccup’s face was a nice pink, and his nipples and cock were hard. 

Hot and cold fingers trailed down over his abdomen. It hurt, made him arch, but oh, it was so good too. 

“Please, Viggo.”

“Please what?” Viggo had a knowing smirk on his face.

“Please fuck me,” Hiccup gasped. That was all he wanted at the moment. “Please.”

Viggo’s fingers were a mix of hot and cold, some of them burning, some of them icy. He took Hiccup’s cock into his hand, and Hiccup cried out at the delicious pain of it. Viggo pumped him slowly, his palm also a wild mix of temperature. It had Hiccup’s chest heaving and moans leaving on his breaths. His other hand was splayed across his chest to hold him down. This hand was hot, so hot Hiccup was sure it would leave a mark on him. He squirmed a little, and Viggo laughed. The man liked when Hiccup was in pain, which was okay, because Hiccup liked it too. 

He played with each of his nipples, fingers first hot, then icy, and it made them so hard that it hurt. Hiccup gasped and twisted his head. 

“Please.” He wanted this teasing to end, just wanted Viggo to get down to it and fuck him. There was oil on the bed beside them. Hiccup reached for it, but Viggo slapped his hand away. They would use the oil when he said so, it appeared. 

“You look absolutely delectable.” Viggo leaned over him, pressed a heated kiss to his jaw, then down, over his neck. He sucked a mark into his skin, making Hiccup moan. If they had visitors this week, Hiccup would just have to wear a high collar. Otherwise, it was just the two of them in the keep, and Hiccup didn’t mind Viggo seeing the aftermath of their lovemaking. 

The fingers around his cock became a raging fire, and Hiccup cried out in pain, arching his back, which put him flush against Viggo. Viggo growled, grabbed Hiccup around his back. Then, he was flipping him over, and fingers played over his back, lips over the back of his neck. Hiccup moaned and sighed. 

“Please, Viggo. Please fuck me!”

“Mm, I do rather like your begging,” Viggo mused. “Do it again.”

Hiccup was quick to obey his master. “Oh please, please!”

“What do you want from me?” Teeth on his ear. 

“Y-your cock.”

“And what about my cock?”

“It’s big and beautiful,” Hiccup panted. “And I want it. Please!”

“Oh, well, if you insist,” Viggo said, as if he hadn’t been planning to put his cock in him the whole time. He sat up on Hiccup, took the oil, uncorked it. A wonderful fragrance filled the space. 

Viggo’s fingers were of normal temperature when he brought them to his rim, but the oil was cold. It warmed as Viggo roamed it around the muscle. Then he was dipping two fingers inside, and Hiccup drew a sharp inhale. Viggo had large fingers, but Hiccup could accommodate them. He moaned as Viggo dipped them in to the last joint.

“M-my prostate,” Hiccup uttered. “Please.”

“I love it when you beg for me.” Viggo’s voice was rough with lust. His fingers moved slowly in and out of him, his other hand massaging his ass. Oh, this felt so good, but it would be even better if he touched his prostate. Which he didn’t do. Not yet, at least. 

“Agh, please, master.” Maybe if Hiccup added in that, it would get him what he wanted.

“Mm, master? Yes, I am your master.” Fingers still moving slowly in and out of him. “I could do whatever I wanted to you and you would have to take it.”

That had a pleasant fluttering starting in Hiccup’s stomach. The thought of being utterly at Viggo’s mercy… 

“But I suppose I will give you what you want, since you’ve been so good.”

Hiccup saw stars when Viggo pressed on his prostate. He groaned, grabbed onto the pillows, bit at them. He arched upwards into Viggo as he rubbed at that spot, sending sparks of pleasure up through his nerves. It sat in his cock and his stomach and his extremities, buzzing and jumping. 

“You feel so good,” Viggo purred. “You’ll be so nice for my cock. What a nice little hole.”

Hiccup moaned at Viggo’s touch and his words. He loved it when Viggo spoke to him like this. It was always so arousing, and now was no different.

After a time, Viggo withdrew his fingers, and Hiccup whined, but knew something better was coming. He panted in anticipation as he listened to Viggo slicking up his cock.

“Please, Viggo, please.”

Viggo laughed a little, and the head of his cock pressed at his hole. It pushed in, and Hiccup’s body ate up the rest of him. He was down to his balls, filling and stretching him, and Hiccup moaned loudly. It was just the two of them, so why couldn’t he be loud?

Viggo sighed, ran his hands over Hiccup’s hips. He began moving, ever so slowly, not wanting to injure Hiccup with his size. Hiccup was just fine with that. A tear wouldn’t be fun to deal with. 

But, after a time, the lack of speed became unbearable. Hiccup clawed at the pillows. “Viggo, please.”

“Harder?” Viggo asked.

“H-harder,” Hiccup confirmed.

“Alright, my dear.” A hand traced down his spine. Then, Viggo adjusted himself on him, put his abdomen to his back, his arms wrapping around underneath him. He began thrusting harder with a grunt, and Hiccup loved it. He moaned and cried out at the pleasure zinging hot through his body. 

Hiccup had no indication of how long this went on for. There was just heat spearing through his body, pleasure bubbling and boiling, the sounds of skin slapping together, sweat beading up and sliding down, curses and moans and grunts. It was a beautiful coagulation of sound and sensation. 

Hiccup came with Viggo inside of him. He shouted, toes curling, body seizing up. Viggo kissed his ear and told him he was doing well, so well. The sound of his voice on top of the orgasm had Hiccup’s eyes rolling back. 

Then Viggo came as well, spilling hot into Hiccup’s body, and Hiccup adored it. It was Viggo’s very essence entering him. It had powerful magical qualities, and now it was inside his body. 

Viggo slipped out of him, flopped down on the bed next to him. For about a minute or so, neither of them said anything, just trying to catch their breaths. 

“Was that to your liking?” Viggo asked.

“Yes.” Hiccup turned to look at him. He kissed him gently on the lips. “Yes it was.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Children of the Moon

@themagiciansarcana

His memories of the past few weeks were blurry at best and nonsensical or completely absent at worst. After being assigned to ‘escort’ Gellert Grindelwald while he was in New York--an assignment that was only slightly logical for him to perform, given his role as liaison--things became hazy and confusing. Disjointed.

Beau wasn’t the sort to have one-night stands, so why did one of his clearer memories seem to be allowing the German wizard to seduce him?

He didn’t understand it.

There was a lot he didn’t understand about what little he could remember.

But there was one thing he could say was absolutely clear to him: He’d been turned. Grindelwald had made him a vampire.

Sunlight burned his flesh. His senses were as keen as--if not keener than--they had ever been in his canine animagus form. His physical abilities had far surpassed anything humanly possible. And the smell of blood--once abhorrent and sickening to him--was now the sweetest perfume.

He hated it.

It terrified him.

Dieu miséricordieux, he was pretty sure he had already drained some poor sap during his first hours in this state, and he had no idea what he would do when the thirst for more blood hit him. How long would he be able to hold out before going on a rampage?

He couldn’t go to Percival for help. Not this time. If Grindelwald had turned Beau with the intention of using him as leverage, the man was sorely mistaken. Beau was a threat now, and the Director of Magical Security wouldn’t hesitate to kill him in order to protect others.

Beau didn’t think he would want Percival to spare him if he endangered anyone else.

No, he couldn’t go to Percival. And Revelin...

Enculer, he should have gone with Revelin when his werewolf had asked him to. He had no idea where to even start looking for Revelin. It had been months since he’d left.

Jarrett would know where Revelin had gone. If anyone would know, it was his brother.

Of course, Jarrett wouldn’t give Beau that information without a price. He wanted information in return. Information Beau would never have given him were he not desperate and in dire need. He had no other choice.

And now he found himself fleeing the city he’d come to think of as his second home, in search of the one person he never should have allowed to leave without him.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

I’m Still Here

@gravemagicks

What had just happened?

Beau’s short term memory was fuzzy, confusing. He remembered fighting alongside his husband and a flash of light—but there had been constant flashes of light from spells and hexes. Had one hit him?

And now he felt as though he were floating. Why?

His surroundings came into focus, and—oh. Oh no. No.

Beau was floating. High above the battle. And there, on the ground below him, he could see Percival kneeling, cradling what looked like...oh, Dieu miséricordieux, was that...him? No. No, that couldn’t—it couldn’t be—it was. It was his body. Limp and lifeless, staring sightless at the sky.

That couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t ready to die yet. He had to—he couldn’t just—

In an instant, he was there with Percival, trying desperately to reconnect with his body somehow. But he couldn’t. Every attempt just went through the limp form lying in his husband’s arms. He couldn’t even touch Percival without his hands slipping through his shoulder, his arm.

“No no no no no no no...”

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. Their anniversary was tomorrow. He’d had plans for it. He’d had so much he wanted to do for Percival--so much to do with Percival. This couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t be dead.

And Percival...Dieu miséricordieux, he was shattered. Beau could see his husband’s heart breaking, could almost feel the shards of it pierce him. And his surroundings were starting to fade away again.

“No no no...Percival, mon vaillant, I’m here. I’m still here. I’m right here beside you. Please, mon vaillant, please hear me. Please look at me. See me. I’m right here. I’m not gone. I’m not--please don’t let me fade like this. Please.”

Could spirits cry? Could they shed tears? He couldn’t remember ever seeing the ghosts at Hogwarts crying. But he felt like he was crying. And he knew he would be if he was back in his body.

Then it all faded away.

Beau didn’t know how much time had passed when he could see his surroundings again. When he realized he hadn’t faded from the world entirely and gone wherever the spirits who didn’t become ghosts went to. But he knew it had to have been a day, at least, because instead of the street where he’d been last--where he’d died--he now found himself at home, in the doorway between the foyer and the den of his and Percival’s apartment, looking into the den.

He turned at the sound of the front door opening, and his heart hurt to see Percival cross the threshold, looking so very worn out.

So it was still possible for a heart to break after it had stopped beating.

From the look of it, Percival had just returned from a funeral. From Beau’s funeral, no doubt. And Beau’s heart shattered anew upon the realization.

He wanted so badly to hold his husband, to comfort him--but how could he, when he couldn’t even touch him? Still, it hurt too much to see his beloved so grief-stricken, so exhausted, and to not even attempt the semblance of comfort. So when Percival sank to the sofa and dropped his head into his hands, Beau sat beside him--how strange that he could stand on the floor and sit on the sofa without sinking through them--and wrapped his arms as close around his beloved’s shoulders as he could without sliding through him.

“I wish you could see me, mon vaillant. Wish I could speak and have you hear me, touch and have you feel my touch. I wish there was some way I could let you know...I’m still here, mon amour, mon vaillant. I’m still with you, I promise. I’m not gone. I’m--I’m...dead, but I’m not gone. I’m still here.”

He carded a hand through Percival’s hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. Or rather, performed some approximation of the gestures, at least.

Oh, how he wished there was some way to come back from this. Some way to turn back time, to stop his own death from happening. But there wasn’t. Going back was only possible for the living, and could have very dangerous results, and though there were the few rare wizards known to have extended their own lives, no one had ever successfully brought the dead back to life--and who knew what dire consequences could come of that? So Beau would settle for this vague approximation of life. He would settle for being a spirit, unseen, unheard, unfelt, so long as it meant he could stay with Percival. So long as his husband would not be alone.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Not so Dead and Gone

@gravemagicks

Beau pressed the heel of his palm against the scar on his throat with a grimace. The damn thing throbbed as though it had a life of its own, and he knew he was getting close to his latest mark. And, if he was lucky, closer to the vengeance he so desired.

Vengeance. Revenge. It wasn’t a thing he’d ever imagined himself pursuing. The man he’d once been wasn’t vengeful. Not until--

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to stave off the tears he could feel burning behind his eyelids, his hand drifting to close around the watch in his pocket. Percival’s pocketwatch. The one he’d charmed to correspond to his two-way mirror. The glass was cracked, and the hands no longer moved around the watch face. It hadn’t worked since President Picquery had returned it to him.

“Percy would have wanted you to have it back,” she’d told him.

Beau couldn’t bring himself to try to fix it.

 His current companions--though he couldn’t really call them good company--didn’t get why he carried the broken watch with him everywhere, checking it every so often as though it might start ticking away again if he just looked at it often enough. They thought he’d gone off the rails. They didn’t care, though, as long as he pulled his weight. They didn’t understand. It was his anchor.

It wasn’t only vengeance he sought--it was closure.

It had been two years since he’d lost the man he loved--lost him to a foe Beau couldn’t even remember. Percival was gone, and Beau had no memory of what had happened. All he’d been left with was the imprint of a vampire’s fangs in his flesh and a hole in his heart where once there had been love.

Two years of hunting, searching for answers, and he was no closer to them than when he’d started.

His latest lead had brought him to a little town in the West German Rhineland, where he’d met up with a group of vampire hunters he’d worked with periodically since leaving MACUSA. They’d heard the same stories he had regarding the area. Tales of a vicious killer slaughtering people and livestock, savaging them and leaving them drained of blood. The townsfolk didn’t seem all that concerned, though. They simply continued on with their lives as though it wasn’t obvious there was a vampire residing in the fortress across the field from the edge of town. Those he’s spoken with even seemed...grateful to the creature.

Beau suspected they were in the vampire’s thrall.

His companions weren’t willing to investigate the fortress at night, saying it was better to go in during the daylight, when their prey was weaker. Beau, however, wasn’t about to wait.

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

No Jot of Blood

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

Hearing his words so quietly repeated, seeing Percival’s features return to their usual apparently human state, Beau relaxed slightly.

But he froze as Percival’s hand grasped his wrist, every instinct suddenly screaming, ‘Run! Danger!’ and, for that briefest instant, Beau feared a trap. That the hunters’ arrival had somehow thrust his beloved into some untrusting and untrustworthy state. But, no, Percival’s grip was loose, tentative, the light caress of his thumb gentle, and Percival’s gaze was as confused and frightened as his own. This was no trick, no trap.

“Oh, merci Dieu.” Beau went almost completely slack in relief, his head falling to Percival’s shoulder with a heavy sigh, and he stayed like that for a good, long moment.

Until a soft whimper from behind him reminded Beau of exactly why he’d had to pin Percival in the first place.

He turned to the girl--and, oh, Dieu miséricordieux, the fear and confusion and concern in Velia’s dark, violet eyes was absolutely heartbreaking. Beau crossed to her and knelt, reaching up to gently cup her face in his hands.

“Are you all right, minette?”

Velia nodded, sniffling. For all that she’d grown in the few years since Beau had seen her last, she was still just a child--and a horribly frightened one, at that. “You’re hurt.”

As though her words had summoned it, pain flared in Beau’s injured arm, but he ignored it. “I’ll be all right, minette. But what are you doing here, Velia? And why with a pack of hunters?”

“I wanted--I had to find you. I couldn’t stand not knowing any more. Why you’d left, where you’d gone. A-and they’d seemed to--to know you. I didn’t think--didn’t expect...” Her tearful gaze moved from Beau’s face to fix on Percival over his shoulder. “...Percy?”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

More Than You Suppose

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

As small and cozy as his family home may be, the cottage still contained two--three if you included the cellar where his father kept his workshop--stories’ worth of rooms, and while Maurice was visiting with Belle and Adam at their manor Beau had the whole place to himself. It was a nice change for the first day or so, but Beau quickly grew lonely. If it hadn’t been for Percival’s visit, Beau was certain he would have ended up spending the night--and likely every night until his father returned home--in his office at the Ministry.

Having his soulmate there made the cottage feel it’s normal, comfortable size rather than the cavernous expanse it had felt like that morning.

He couldn’t help the way his breath caught as Percival stepped close and took his wrist, the phoenix on his forearm flaring bright as a neon light beneath his beloved’s gentle touch. His eyelids fluttered shut at the press of Percival’s lips against his own, and he slid his free arm around his soulmate’s waist, gently guiding Percival just a smidgeon closer. “Percival...je t’aime aussi, mon vaillant,” he murmured. “Ma moitié.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Love is a Battlefield

@gravemagicks

Beau’s soulmark flared a brilliant red where the few abstract lines of it that formed a sort of bird’s head weren’t hidden beneath the cuff of his sleeve. His mark, a phoenix in flight whose tail reached nearly to the crook of his arm, had been flaring for the past few days. Ever since the American Director of Magical Security had joined the efforts against Grindelwald’s forces here in France.

Percival Graves.

The man had a reputation for being ruthless in his pursuit of protecting the magical world. At least, in his part of the magical world. That he was in the French countryside to help them hold the front against Grindelwald and his fanatics...well, the man was committed, to say the least.

And Beau’s soulmark seemed to be pulling him toward Graves.

Well, Beau was in charge of the support battalion for Graves’ team, so at least he had a good excuse to go and talk to the man who could very well be his soulmate. He wondered if Percival’s soulmark was the same sort of abstract falling star as Belle’s soulmate Adam’s was.

He gathered himself and crossed to where he saw the handsome older man--and wow he really shouldn’t be admiring Percival’s appearance like this right now, it was entirely inappropriate for the situation.

He snapped a sharp salute when he reached him.

“Director Graves, sir. I’m Major Beauxhomme Lafayette.” Dieu, was his accent always that thick when he spoke English? He thought it’d been tempered by his time at Hogwarts. Maybe it was because he was nervous. Who wouldn’t be when confronted with their likely soulmate? “My men and I will be running support for you and your team. I thought it best to introduce myself so you know who’s got your back when we’re on the field of battle.”

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Hunger and Temptation

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

That didn’t sound too confident. Percival sounded almost as though he were in pain. A small frown tugged at the corners of Beau’s mouth, and he stepped around the desk, drawing closer still to his lover. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked softly. “You’ve seemed rather on edge since I came in.”

Longer than that, actually. But Percival’s unease was more apparent now than it had been before, and that worried Beau. Had he done something to make Percival uncomfortable? Overstepped some boundary? Or was this something else? Something unrelated that he’d managed to interrupt?