floriddle shenanigans

[crimsontyrant]

there's an a/b/o thread somewhere in there and it somehow started in a library, idk man

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[eelusive]

[From the moment they… met? That long ago?

Normally, Floyd isn’t one to dwell on the past. What’s done is done and there’s no sense trying to change it. Yet when he thinks about that day and every day in between… sure—it hurts a little, knowing he could have had Riddle all this time.

Floyd pitches his hips, sharp and quick with a clatter of metal against pale thighs. Fuck, he’s so tight, so wet… Floyd compromises by sinking his teeth into Riddle’s neck at last, groaning and shuddering with the unique taste of berries and iron…]

What… dream?

[he gasps, taking Riddle’s hand into his own and trying to yank it away from his face.]

You mean— Mn- The ceremony?

[crimsontyrant]

[ It hurts-- yeah, it hurts in his chest, deep where his heart rests, where he'd buried these emotions down and tried to get rid of them. There wasn't room for feelings like these, for frivolent little acts of teenage passion.

If that's all it was, it wouldn't sting this much, would it?

Riddle cries out at the bite, from a mix of pain and pleasure, his back arching hard. He's practically dripping with pre from his dick as he's thrust into, as he's overtaken by emotion, pain, pleasure.

His hand isn't hard to yank from his face, though it makes it oh so clear the little tears he was trying so desperately to hold back. ]

The idea that we could actually... be together. That felt like a stupid dream that couldn't-- couldn't happen.

[ Riddle huffs, trying desperately to steady his own breathing. ]

You're a distraction. One that was too tempting to get involved wi--... mhh, Floyd...!

[ His words are easily cut off by another cry, his body trembling as he stares up at Floyd with those big wet eyes, with a little apology he probably will never speak. ]

[eelusive]

[How many times has he heard that one? He’s a distraction, an annoyance, a bad influence. No doubt Mrs. Rosehearts will want nothing more than to tear his guts apart. But if he’s a distraction, so what? He’s not about to change or apologize for it. Certainly not when it has Riddle crying out his name.]

Doesn’t matter.

[Sweat dripping from his brow, Floyd plants his hands on either side of Riddle’s head and fucks into him so quickly it rattles the headboard against the wall. The tight coil in his stomach begins to fray, ready to spring loose and release at any given second.]

‘cuz we’ll—haah—be together now… H-haha… No way…

[he gasps, dropping his forehead to Riddle’s own.]

Maybe this is a dream~

[crimsontyrant]

[ If Riddle thought it was too much, that he couldn't handle it before, it just gets to a whole other level of overwhelming, of too much. The pace picked up again, much like the pace he'd had when riding him so haphazardly, and yet... faster. Harder.

He can't speak anymore, not when it's like this. Both of his arms wrap around Floyd, nails digging in hard against his back, clawing into him as if to keep himself grounded among his own noises and cries.

... He'd be lucky if the rest of the dorm didn't know what happened behind his door today. And if they knew? They'd best keep their damn mouths shut about it.

Riddle wants to respond, wants to tell him that if this is a dream, then don't wake him up-- but he can't. He can barely even think enough to hold himself together. Not when he's seeing stars, when his body is tensing, his hands clutching onto Floyd so tightly.

It's not subtle, even if he still had his underwear on, the way he reaches his climax. A wet, sticky patch forms at the front of him, surely making worse of a mess of him. He'll feel gross later, once he's come down from this high, with the sweat making his shirt stick to him, the cum in his underwear against his body.

For now, he clings hard to Floyd, trembling under it all. ]

[eelusive]

[It comes in waves, the beautiful realization that this is real–that he’s not simply gazing out the window, catching glimpses of red at the stables across the lawn, wishing he could visit instead of drown in more lectures… Riddle’s holding him, clawing him, burning him up from the inside out. It’s the rawest pleasure Floyd’s ever felt.

And evidently, it isn’t half bad for Riddle either. The tension is agonizing—a vice grip around the base of his aching cock, pulsing and squeezing while Riddle wails pretty into his ear and cums in his underwear. He’s filthy. So filthy… He’s pretty… So pretty.

Coiled around Riddle’s tinier frame, Floyd holds on for as long as he can, continuing to fuck him through orgasm until finally his urge proves far too strong. He follows with a sharp thrust, and another and another, pumping Riddle full of thick, warm seed. It spills, but he doesn’t care. Not when his mind is numb and his legs start to tremble–]

N-ngh…

[Floyd soothes himself on Riddle’s skin, tasting salt, iron, roses at the back of his tongue… but finally, gasping for air, he slowly but shakily eases against Riddle’s body, trying to settle the little rose’s tremors. He has to pull himself together here for Riddle’s sake. For his mate’s sake. For their—]

Didn’t pull out…

[Ah.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ His body aches with every raw feeling, each new pleasure striking through him and overwhelming him that much further. To think this was real, that he was giving in to such an intense temptation and it felt so, so right... How could this ever be a bad thing? To want this to be real, to make this be real.

His shaking hands clutch onto his only lifeline, not caring for a second if his nails manage to break skin, to press into Floyd so hard that he'd have marks for days. All he can think about is this moment, the feeling of those sharp thrusts, riding out his own orgasm in such a way that he's damn near going to make a further mess of himself.

Another pretty little cry passes from his lips at the feeling of that seed flooding his insides, marking his hole, his walls, his womb, all as Floyd's. His body tenses all over again, soft gasps and whimpers passing through those red lips of his.

And, finally, his grip on Floyd loosens, fingers press down into him more gently, his shaking hands still pressing against his back for a time, to let him come down from those highs of his. In true Riddle fashion, he lets out a soft huff, pulling one hand back from Floyd despite how hard he wants to cling to him, to press it against his own face, half glaring up at Floyd. ]

You're not allowed to pull out. You'll give me all you have.

[ A rule of his own is placed down, almost as harshly as he'd lay down any other rule, even with how his voice shakes. ]

You have to take responsibility. Make me yours, inside and out.

[ Sound fair? Reasonable? Logical? Probably not. He's deep into his heat, though -- there's no logic that would be found here, at this point. Where he's at now... the very idea that Floyd would want to pull out sounds cruel. That he'd want to avoid filling him with his seed, to keep from letting him feel that delectable full feeling...

Is that a pout? A little. He's so similar to Floyd in that way, after all. The way he could flip on a dime and be so stern. ]

[eelusive]

[It isn’t the answer he expects… but it’s perfect, dripping sweet and striking hard as only Riddle knows how to deliver. He isn’t allowed to pull out. He’ll give him all he has… Ordinarily, bossing Floyd about is a surefire way to turn him off in every sense. But Riddle’s conviction is ruthless, and Floyd’s heart is on fire. In this moment, he’ll bow to anything if it means keeping his mate satisfied and full.

Though most importantly, his.

There’s no need to question logic or reason. Not when it makes clear sense, right? Lifting his head, Floyd stares down at that sweet little pout before leaning in to nudge Riddle’s temple.]

Then I guess these’ll have to go~

[After grabbing the waistband of Riddle’s underwear, Floyd quite literally tears them off with a satisfying rip, later digging his nails into the newly exposed, petal-soft skin. He palms at his cock, at the mess smeared behind, and when Floyd shifts to his knees he jerks him off nice and slow. There. No need for him to pull out.]

You’re so cute…

[he growls, grabbing hold of Riddle’s thighs so he can pull his body toward his thrust. Again and again he continues to thrust, shuddering each time he feels the tip of his cock striking Riddle’s womb. Faster. Rougher. He fucks him so hard he rattles the bed against the wall, until a second orgasm no-less powerful than the last floods those trembling insides.

Still, Floyd doesn’t stop.]

C’mere…

[Barely coasting off the high of his last climax, he quickly aims for another, sharply pistoning his hips to ensure every last drop of seed stays firmly rooted in Riddle’s belly. Teeth find a collarbone, a shoulder, a pulse— There will be zero doubt on where these angry red marks came from, that’s for certain.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Were Floyd to be turned off by his bossiness, they'd never have gotten to this point. The two of them would never have gotten along (or, didn't get along) as well as they had over the last two years. Never in a million years did Riddle think he'd be under Floyd like this, practically begging him to fill him up so much that there would be no doubt that he'd end up carrying his child.

There's a slight gasp that slips out as the fabric tears. Riddle opens his mouth further to complain, but is quickly distracted by the nails digging in against his skin, the palm against his messy cock. The way Floyd shifts inside him, jerks him. Riddle can't help but whine in need, his breath coming out in hot, heavy little puffs.

Both of his hands fall back down in full, fingers grasping pathetically at the sheets of his bed, as if he could grab on and cling to them in a way that'd distract him from the overwhelming pleasure that was just having his mate here, inside of him like this. ]

Huh-? I'm not-- Floyd...!! [ The complaint is cut off by a loud cry of the other boy's name, with the way Floyd thrusts forward into him, pulling him into it, slamming into him with the ferocity Riddle had damn well begged for, but somehow hadn't been ready for. It's so much, so fast, so rough, that he can feel the building pressure in himself.

He's seeing white, squeezing his eyes shut. Unable to process his own second orgasm as it hits, his focus only on the feeling of that pulsing cock inside of him, filling him with more and more of that seed he so desired.

Those teeth, the feeling of his bites were just as sweet as those thrusts inside of him. His eyes open, halfway, to peer at the stronger boy. He squirms-- if he just moves the right way, he can bring his own leg up, to hook it over Floyd's shoulder. He's damn lucky he's flexible enough to make it happen, as it allows him to turn his upper body some, enough to try and expose the nape of his neck further. To give Floyd more space to work.

To press his face against his arm, to try and stifle his own cries. Still, he tries to stammer, to reply in some form, to babble out a few words amidst his haze, ]

The whole dorm is going-- to hear me, if you're not careful.

[ Because, duh, that's Floyd's fault. ]