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"Get these off of me," Nightmare spat, his voice a mixture of rage and desperation. Bound tightly, he thrashed and twisted, trying to free himself from the unforgiving chains and cuffs. His struggles were futile, only serving to highlight his helplessness.
Sol watched, a dark smile playing on his mouth. There was something undeniably captivating about seeing Nightmare like this, all his power stripped away, leaving only raw vulnerability. Sol could lose himself in this sight for days.
But he knew that was cruel. An attentive lover should show mercy, shouldn't he?
He drifted closer, his gaze locked on the bright gold cuffs that gleamed against Nightmare's obsidian corruption. Like a predator closing in on its captured prey, he moved with deliberate slowness, savouring every second. "I couldn't possibly," he purred, his voice low and tantalizing. "You'll leave if I release you."
Nightmare's eyelight burned with distaste, but there was a flicker of something else—uncertainty, maybe even desire. Sol shook his head slowly, letting his fingers trail lightly over the cuffs. "Playing hard to get has consequences, my darling."
The Corrupted Guardian opened his mouth to argue, but Sol seized the opportunity, dipping down and claiming his mouth in a fierce kiss. He revelled in the bitter taste he found there, a mix of defiance and dark desire.
Nightmare kissed back angrily, his teeth sinking into Sol's tongue in a desperate attempt to resist. The pain was fleeting, Sol's flesh healing instantly, leaving only the tang of hot magic and the faint taste of his blood in Nightmare's mouth as evidence of the opposition.
Sol was irresistibly drawn to Nightmare, unable to keep his hands to himself. His fingers glided over the contours of Nightmare's form, tracing the corruption that marred his skin, marveling at its unique texture. He admired how Nightmare maintained a form that was fluid and viscous, yet tangible enough to touch, to feel.
Each caress felt like staking a claim, marking territory in the most intimate of ways. Sol was captivated, utterly consumed by the magnetic pull between them. He leaned in closer, reducing the space between their bodies, his touch growing bolder. The desire to explore every inch of Nightmare's mutable form was overwhelming, and Sol lingered in the closeness. In the sheer impossibility of ever wanting to pull away.
The way Nightmare squirmed against him, pushing and pulling in a desperate attempt to gain some semblance of control, to escape him, only made Sol more breathless. The friction of their bodies rubbing together, the desperation, was intoxicating. Sol groaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by their intense kiss.
Eventually, they broke apart, both reluctantly and necessarily. Traces of teal magic and corruption lingered on Sol's mouth, a vivid reminder of their heated encounter. He ran his tongue over his teeth, savouring the lingering flavour, an amalgam of power and desire.
The thought crossed Sol’s mind, a hungry, eager notion. Maybe Nightmare would let him bite again and allow him the pleasure of lapping up his marrow. The memory of it, so rich and heady, still haunted him. It had been exquisite—a delicacy. One that Sol would drink time and time again if he could.
Oh, how he ached to partake in his beloved forever.
Nightmare panted, his single eye narrowed into a bright, piercing slit as he glared at Sol. "Go fuck yourself," he spat, venom dripping from every syllable.
Sol couldn't help but giggle at the fiery response, his amusement evident. "You want to have your brother join us? I didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Darling!" The idea seemed deliciously fitting. Nightmare was his perfect match; it made sense they would share such dark, decadent preferences.
"If you want that sort of scene, I'm happy to arrange it for you," Sol teased, his tone light but sinister. He didn't care much for Nightmare's weakling brother, finding him more annoying than anything—a pest. But oh, if that's what his beloved desired—if it would add another layer to their twisted games—then he would indulge him, relishing the chaos it would undoubtedly bring.
"Don't you touch him," Nightmare snarled, his voice laced with venom. He actually hissed as his features contorted into a visage both frightening and fierce. His protectiveness was palpable, as intense as it was instinctual. "He's mine."
Sol laughed, genuinely delighted by the fire burning in the Courrpt Guardian's response. They were indeed such a perfect match—fiery, passionate, unpredictable.
"You're the one who suggested it, beloved," Sol teased, his tone playful yet mocking as he reminded the dripping deity of his earlier outburst. He enjoyed pushing Nightmare's buttons, revelling in the surge of emotions he elicited.
Pretending not to notice Nightmare's arousal was part of the game. Their bodies pressed tightly together, and Sol could feel his tension, the strain against his shorts. It was clear the idea stirred something primal within him despite his protests and snarls.
Nightmare's glower deepened, the lines of his face taut with both ire and an underlying thrill. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he hissed, the heat of his anger nearly scorching yet undercut by an undeniable pulse of arousal that betrayed his deeper, conflicted emotions.
Sol's smile only broadened, delighting in the delicious mix of defiance and desire that Nightmare exuded so effortlessly. "Ah, but isn't it intriguing to consider?" he cooed, his voice a seductive whisper that floated tantalizingly against his beloved's acoustic meatus. His phalanges began to trace small, enticing circles along Nightmare's bones, each touch light and teasing, promising a deeper intensity yet holding back, stoking the flames of desire and frustration alike.
Nightmare's response was visceral; he shuddered, his body torn between the instinct to recoil from the touch and the undeniable allure of Sol's proximity. His tendrils weighed behind him, twitching and curling. Rattling the chains that held them. His eye fluttered shut momentarily, a silent admission of the internal struggle raging within him.
"I'll even include mine if it would please you," The angel murmured provocatively, his breath hot on Nightmare's skull. "My sweet little brother." The words dripped with a dark, tempting promise. "We could share; wouldn't that be delightful?" The suggestion was both a taunt and a sweet temptation.
At his own suggestion, a thrill ran through Sol, manifesting in a subtle flutter of his own appendages, his wings creating a stir of air.
He pressed closer, his movements deliberate as he ground into Nightmare, feeling the tension coil tighter between them. Despite the dripping skeleton's fervent denials, the flush on his face and the quickening of his breath spoke volumes to Sol's keen senses. At the pleasure he could feel pouring from him, dripping in time with his Corruption.
He knew the truth that lurked beneath the fiery protests. His straining erection pressed against Sol's own, only separated by fabric.
"You say you don't want this. Want me," Sol murmured, his voice a low, teasing hum right next to Nightmare's aural canal the vibrations sending ripples of unwanted pleasure through Nightmare's body. "But your body tells a different story, Darling."
Nightmare's face was flushed cyan bleeding across obsidian. His breaths came in sharp pants; each exhale betraying the arousal he so desperately wanted to hide. Sol watched him, his gaze intense and unrelenting, delighting in the beautiful contradiction Nightmare presented.
Sol was captivated, utterly entranced by the creature before him. Nightmare's fierce beauty, his raw defiance—it was intoxicating. Sol knew he would do anything to possess him, to ensure that he remained by his side forever.
"Admit it," Sol murmured, his voice a soft, coercive whisper as he increased the pressure of their bodies pressed tightly together. His movements were deliberate, designed to maximize their contact, to draw forth the mingled reactions of resistance and surrender. His hand glided up, tracing the sharp line of Nightmare's jaw, tilting his head to force their eyes to meet. His other hand wandered to the base of Nightmare's back, where dark tendrils sprouted—a place he knew to be terribly sensitive.
A muted groan escaped Nightmare's teeth when Sol traced where pure corruption made bone, the sensation overwhelming. As Sol's body rutted against him, Nightmare writhed, his hips instinctively pushing back against Sol's with a desperate intensity. The displeasure in his eye—a fierce, burning glint—clashed with the undeniable pleasure that flickered across his expression.
Sol found it endearing, this facade Nightmare played at, this pretense of disdain mingled with an undeniable craving. "You're so adorable, trying to hide how much you want this," Sol teased, his voice low and laden with desire. "I can feel it in every shiver, every gasp. You can't deny what's between us."
"Fuck you," Nightmare spat, but his voice lacked the same strength and venom it once held. The defiance was still there, but it was waning, overshadowed by the palpable desire that neither of them could ignore.
Sol laughed, the sound a mixture of delight and desire. His beloved was so cute when he tried to maintain his facade.
"Gladly," he replied, his tone dripping with satisfaction and intent. He leaned in closer, mouth pressing sweet kisses against Nightmare's skull, basking in the vulnerability and tension that hung between them. He jutted his hips just so, drawing a moan from Nightmare's teeth.
This was exactly where he wanted him—teetering on the edge of resistance and surrender, ready to be claimed.
The noise Nightmare made when Sol reached down to grasp his cock was filthy, a raw sound of desperate need. Sol's fingers rubbed over the length through the fabric, teasing and tormenting, before slipping past the waistband and dipping down to the straining faux flesh beneath.
Sol felt the dampness, the evidence of Nightmare's arousal already leaking. He cooed softly, a mix of mockery and affection, as his beloved struggled not to buck into his hand, his body betraying the desire he tried so hard to deny.
"You're so good for me," Sol murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You don't need to hold back, Darling. Just let go." His fingers moved, stroking and caressing, driving Nightmare to the brink of collapse.
Sol’s grip tightened slightly, savouring the way Nightmare slumped against him, trembling with the force of his release. The expression on Nightmare's face was utterly captivating—dazed and euphoric, a perfect blend of surrender and bliss. His eye fluttered shut, teeth parted in a silent moan, as if caught in a trance. It was a sight Sol wanted to capture and relive forever. If only he could preserve its pure, unfiltered beauty. Etching it into his memory like a vivid painting.
“Perfect, perfect, perfect,” Sol praised, his voice thick with satisfaction and possessive adoration. It was reverent. He stroked Nightmare’s skull gently, already yearning to bring him to this state again and again. The thought of repeatedly driving Nightmare to this edge, of claiming him so completely, filled Sol with an insatiable hunger.
“We’re just getting started, Darling,” he whispered, his breath hot against Nightmare’s acoustic meatus. The words were a promise and a tease, laden with dark intent. “There’s so much more I want to do with you.” His fingers trailed down Nightmare's spine, feeling the subtle arch of his back, the tremor of anticipation.