#Swiss/Dewdrop

[noahl-art]

Mushy May - Day 25 : "You smell nice"

Dew drop drank a bit and joined Swiss in his room, being all clingy thanks to alcohol 🥴🍹(drink responsively kids)

Thanks @forlorn-crows for putting together Mushy May!! ✨

[forlorn-crows]

𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒘𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍

pairing(s): swiss/dewdrop words: 785 rating: explicit

notes: listen i dont know what possessed me but i needed to write someone shoving their hand down the other's pants and jerking them off and then this happened. warning for degradation. proceed with (horny) caution.

edit: now on AO3 + with scrumptious art by @noahl-art here :3

"F-fuck, Dew, touch me," Swiss growls against his lips. Their bodies writhe in the tight (lack of) space of the bus bunk, greedy and desperate for each other.

"Yeah?" The fire ghoul goads. "Just a fuckin' needy little bitch that needs to cum, aren't you?"

"Uh huh," Swiss whines, shoving Dew's hand down his pants. "Jerk me off, mark me, don' care." The first touch of his hot hand against his shaft is like the Dark One's grace, mercifully pleasurable and sinfully firm.

Dew growls and nips at his jaw. "Need to feel how hot I make you," he breathes. "Get you all stiff and sticky in my hand." He's just as hard, throbbing against the meat of Swiss' thigh. Swiss throbs under his fingers and they swallow each others' groan.

"Wan' it," Swiss grunts. He bucks up, seeking friction. "Fuck, spitfire, make me cum."

A little laugh turns up the corners of Dew's mouth as he moves to free his cock, slapping the wet head onto Swiss' flannels. "You'll cum when I tell you to," he says. Another nip, this time to Swiss' earlobe. Hard enough to cause him to gasp. Dew gives a rough squeeze to his balls and ruts against his leg with a groan, uncaring at how loud and obvious it is. "And you're gonna beg me for it. Like the whore you are."

Swiss lets out a wet hah and bares his neck to Dew, arching into his hand. "Yeah, yeah," he grits through his teeth. "Fuckin' use me. Do whatever you wan'."

Dew gives him a harsh tug, twisting on the upstroke. "'S funny," he says huskily. "You, parading around for all those people." He sucks hard beneath the hinge of his jaw, hard enough to bruise. Swiss can't help but groan, gripping tighter at the back of Dew's shirt and flexing his thigh to feel the hard line of him. "Fuckin' hells," Dew groans, "if they could see you like this. Bad boy Swiss taken down by the little guy's hand around his cock."

Dew digs his teeth in again, and Swiss has to turn and stuff his moan into the pillowcase.

The fire ghoul starts humping him in earnest. Hand not matching his own tempo, and just unpredictable enough to scramble his brain. Swiss can feel Dew's pre soak through to his skin after only a few thrusts.

"Dew," he chokes. He's so hard; Dew makes him crazy like this.

Dew pants against the hollow of his throat, warm and humid. His tongue darts out to lick a hot stripe up to his jaw, ending at the blooming bruise and pressing into it. Swiss' cock spurts pre onto Dew's fingers, already too close.

"Such a slut. Barely touched you and you're dripping all over me, huh?" Nevermind that Dew is leaking consistently against his thigh, because he's right—Swiss is wet for this. Wet for being degraded, pushed around. Bullied until he can't help but cover himself in his own spend.

"Hnnf-uuh," he groans into the pillow, still held between his teeth. He nods quickly, eyes rolling into the back of his head when Dew polishes the head with his pre.

"Shit," Dew rasps. His hips kick up in speed. A freight train barreling both of them towards broken tracks. He digs his knees into the thin bunk mattress for leverage and sneaks his free hand up to grab at the ends of Swiss' locs, pulling just as hard as he tugs on his cock, and Swiss thinks his brain tumbles from his lips when he whines through the break in his voice.

He shivers all over, right down to his toes. "D-Dew—"

"That's fuckin' it, such a pretty boy when you wanna cum," Dew growls. A beat, silent except for the wet sound of his hand jerking Swiss' cock. Then: "You gonna?"

Swiss doesn't answer. Can't, not when his mouth can't close far enough to make words. His tongue licks uselessly at the back of his teeth, fumbling to make his sounds turn into something coherent. But he can't. His eyes are screwed shut. His balls are drawing up against his body already, and he can't.

Dew snorts, pulling on his hair again. "Stupid—fuck; stupid fucking cock-drunk whore." He means it as a sneer, but it comes out warbling and needy.

He grips the tip again, and Swiss all but howls. "Your whore," he wheezes, all his muscles tightening to snap. "P-please."

Dew groans into his shoulder, fist speeding over his dick. "Again," he spits. "Say it again."

Swiss whimpers. "Please; Lucifer, please let me cum."

Dew half-laughs, half-groans, tightening his hand and forcefully jerking down to the base each time, just how he knows Swiss wants.

"Fuckin' do it then."c

[ghcstcd]

Swiss and Aether having marking wars on Dewdrop. Constantly, playfully at competition with each other to cover up the previous lover's bites and bruises with their own. Dewdrop absolutely revels in the attention.

[st-danger]

Shelter To Give Shade, Swiss/Dew, Explicit

Shelter To Give Shade

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Swiss/Dew

Contains: Heat cycle, enough cum to drown a small village, forced feminization my beloved, a skirt that has never done anything wrong getting absolutely ruined. For the darling @belle--ofthebrawl

-

His head no longer hurts, and when he flips the light on the bedside table on, so jerky and uncoordinated he almost knocks it over, the light doesn’t feel like thumbs pressing into his eye sockets. The only thing he does feel is a sickening desperation, somewhere between foreign and familiar. His thumb texts Swiss because he finds himself utterly unable to resist getting his other hand wrapped around his still-hard dick.

Need help, he types. You were right. If Swiss screenshots this for any reason at all, he’s going to make sure Swiss doesn’t have either the fingers or the brainpower to ever use a phone again.

-

Read on AO3!

[thatonerat420]

Dew: I think I need a hug...

Swiss: Good thing I'm hug shaped!

*45 minutes later*

Dew: You... you can let go now.

Swiss: No, I absolutely cannot.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Rest a While

[Snuggly SwissDew ficlet.]

They fall into an easy silence, one that seems out of character for the normally chatty pair; Swiss relaxes into Dew's warmth, and the other responds in kind, nestling into his side.

In the summer months, when friends and lovers alike are driven apart from the heat, and find the mere thought of being around another person unbearable, the two of them remain like this.

Comfortable sharing in the cling of each other's skin, until one of them inevitably must leave for one reason or another, content to simply be beside one another, no words required.

Oftentimes, Dew spends the dog days alone; His dual elements at their peak in the midst of the blistering heat and oppressive humidity, making his want to wander far from the abbey's confines stronger.

And it's in those times that he tends to seek out Rain, the quiet man taking to the cold embrace of the lake, where Dew will find him -along with the other basking water ghouls- and settle beside him to rest upon the shores, drinking in the waves.

But Rain has gone dormant for the season, sinking himself far beyond the limits of Dew's ability, lost to the world until the sun ceases its hard gaze upon the earth.

He'll wake when the water cools.

So, in part, Dew is here now simply because the other ghoul is not, and while Swiss could find it in himself to be jealous... That's not the case whatsoever.

He's well aware of Dew's preferences, and the reason he sought him out today; Swiss, for all his chaos and want for calamity, has a calming air about him.

In a literal sense.

As the sun bakes the lawn outside, the hybrid's fire side burns, pushing at the thin wall maintaining the balance between that and his water side.

In short, Dew is overheating, and Swiss' nature as a multi-ghoul allows him to switch between his elements and act as a sort of... fan.

So while the scene of them pressed together might seem outwardly innocent and adorable -and is to an extent- it also serves a more practical purpose of keeping the ghoul beside him cool.

Dew nuzzles his head against Swiss' shoulder, a crackly purr rumbling forth from his throat.

Swiss considers making some kind of joke, but, the moment he opens his mouth, a long yawn escapes his lips and he finds himself sagging further into Dew's body.

The slow, steady tap of his tail against the couch fades from his senses as they both surrender to a deep sleep.

[coffeeghoulie]

you got some scrapes, but i'll piledrive you anyways

Ghostober Day #7: Hatesex

You are a prizefighter who is in love with a boxer. You say "It's a bad idea," and the boxer says, "It's only a bad idea if it gets in the way of our work," and you say, "Promise me you'll never pull any punches." The boxer swears they won't. But when you fight, the boxer always pulls their punches, and you never do. You're pretty sure this makes you a bad person. You're a prizefighter, and you do not love this boxer or anyone enough to pull punches.  -Gabrielle Zevin, ILYSFM Liner Notes

Dewdrop decides it then. He hates Swiss Truppe with every fucking fiber of his being.

He can feel Swiss's gaze burning into the side of his head through two thick layers of plexiglass. Pointedly ignores it. He knows what Swiss wants. Has bent over backwards and done this song and dance a dozen times. He just wants to get his dick wet.

Admittedly, Dew's been into it, but would rather die than admit it out loud. But after all of this? Swiss isn't going to get what he wants that easily.

Explicit, 6.1k. Contains rough oral sex/facefucking, fistfights, semi-public/shower sex, dry humping, degradation, biting, one slap, ruined orgasms, and no aftercare. Set in the hockey AU, but all you need to know is that Swiss and Dew are hockey players and they hate each other.

Much thanks to @kroas-adtam for arranging Ghostober, and also @askingforthesun for letting this live in their dms for two months <3. Tagging @forlorn-crows and @nocturnalghoul for more hockey shenanigans <3.

Title from Wonderful Nothing by Glass Animals.

Read under the cut or on AO3

It takes less than fifteen seconds for Dew to go from chasing the puck to beaten and face down on the ice with the air knocked from his lungs.

He's behind the Popestars' goalline between one of their defensemen and one of their right wingers five minutes into the first, scrabbling to get the puck out from where their three sticks are locked. They're bigger then him, but he's a lot defter, working the puck from between them and snapping a pass to Rain, who skates it in front of the net to try and shoot.

Following the puck, the defenseman chases after Rain. He doesn't matter though, because the right winger's still behind him, and Dew can feel him looming. He knows what's about to happen milliseconds before it does.

Swiss had leaned over the red line during warm ups, talking a big game about how Dew should be ready for anything tonight. Clearly, he's come to collect.

There's a hard shove, a hard line of fiberglass and carbon pressed into his back through his pads. He snarls before he can do anything else, gloves and stick already clattering to the ice by the time he wheels around. Swiss tosses his stick aside, dropping his gloves as he lunges in the same movement.

Swiss has a shit-eating grin on his face, hands curling into the collar of Dew's jersey as he pushes him towards the face off dot. Dew lunges, grabbing Swiss's jersey and shoving him back. The momentum of his skates gives him an attempt to struggle, to push him back.

He swings, the knuckles of his right hand colliding with Swiss's jaw. He takes it, head whipping with the blow. Dew snarls when it doesn't knock the grin from his face.

Swiss pulls harder at his jersey, swinging hard. Dew has just enough leverage to duck, throwing a punch to his side, where his jersey and the pads that cover there ride up, exposing warm brown skin. He can feel the way the breath gets knocked out of him, but Swiss keeps swinging.

He's angry now, lands two sharp right hooks downward across his cheekbone and jaw. Iron fills his mouth, something wet dripping down over his upper lip.

A third and fourth to the back of the head through his helmet. His blades slip just a little bit, his forehead pressed to the brown and gold of his jersey. He tries to fight back, he really does, but Swiss is a solid half a foot bigger than him, a fire burning in the dark of his eyes.

The next punch doesn't quite hit, hooking around his neck, and Dew shoves with the hand not pulling at the collar of Swiss's jersey. He snarls, snapping his teeth. He knows he probably looks insane, blood staining his teeth, dripping from his nose, something crazed in his eyes.

Dew swings as hard as he can, catching him straight across the face. He feels something give under his knuckles, probably soft tissue on the inside of his cheek catching on his teeth.

He barely has enough time to feel smug about it before his eyes go wide. His skates scrabble against the ice. Swiss grins, yanking hard at the black and teal mesh clenched in his fist, pulling him to the ice by the collar.

Dew can barely catch himself with his hands, the visor of his helmet smacking against the ice. His head rattles inside his helmet like he's taken a puck to the temple. He thinks he might end up with a shiner after this one. The chill radiating from the ice feels good against his throbbing cheekbone and nose.

It's only a momentary reprieve.

Swiss follows him down with the momentum of his swing, his last punch landing square between his shoulderblades. It knocks the breath from him, wheezing on the ice as the blow shoves him into it. His knee lands on the back of his as Swiss falls on top of him, and Dew can't bite back a yell as his joint is pressed further into the unforgiving surface of the ice.

Thankfully, the refs pull Swiss off of him then. As Dew hauls himself to his feet, legs still a little wobbly under him, he feels a big, ungloved hand rest on the small of his back through his pads and jersey. Concerned. Gentle.

The fire inside of him reignites. Because how fucking dare he? How fucking dare Swiss pretend to care after humiliating him and beating the shit out of him?

Dew's about ready to lunge back at him, threat of expulsion be damned, when the ref passes him over to Aether. He's still pissed, but just Aether's gloved hand on his arm is enough to temper the flames.

For now.

"You good?" Aether asks, grey eyes scanning over Dew's face with a look of real worry behind them. Dew won't get a good look at the damage until intermission, but with the way his face aches, he reckons he's well on his way to black and blue. Blood still trails down his upper lip, salty and metallic where it drips into his mouth. His nose doesn't feel broken, but he won't be sure until the physical trainer checks him out.

Dew nods, swallowing hard as one of the refs skates up to the two of them to escort Dew to the box. "Nothing I can't deal with."

He glances over his shoulder, glaring at Swiss. The right winger grins, smug and infuriating, and Dew sneers at him with reddened teeth. Swiss's bottom lip, to Dew's sick delight, is bloody too. There's some kind of look in his eyes, but Dew's too pissed off to pick it apart for some semblance of meaning.

He sits in the box, wiping sweat and blood from his face on the towel handed to him. Watches the replay on the big screen. How he fell to the ice in glorious, humiliating slo-mo.

Dewdrop decides it then. He hates Swiss Truppe with every fucking fiber of his being.

He can feel Swiss's gaze burning into the side of his head through two thick layers of plexiglass. Pointedly ignores it. He knows what Swiss wants. Has bent over backwards and done this song and dance a dozen times. He just wants to get his dick wet.

Admittedly, Dew's been into it, but would rather die than admit it out loud. But after all of this? Swiss isn't going to get what he wants that easily.

Dew fumes for the rest of the game, arms crossed over his chest during the first intermission. The physical trainer appraises him as good to keep playing, and that's all Dew really cares about. He tries to keep his anger in the back of his mind, save it for later and keep it from affecting his performance. He's a professional, for fuck's sake. Aether's voice reminding him for the seventeenth t he's a hockey player, not a boxer, echoes in his head. He can be level-headed. Cool, calm, and collected. Dew takes a deep breath.

Unfortunately for Dew, Swiss's smug, holier-than-thou expression is burned into his mind and it pisses him off.

When the buzzer calls the game, Dew's one of the last players off the ice. Aether claps him on the back in the tunnel as they make their way back to the locker rooms. "You did great tonight," he praises, but Dew barely hears it.

He has to bite his lip to keep from making a noise. Aether's hand landed right where Swiss's last punch did. Dew swallows hard, nudges his shoulder into Aether's. "So did you, that powerplay shutdown was great," he laughs, praying Aether doesn't hear the sharp edge in his voice.

Anticipation settles deep in his gut, mixing with the residual anger and frustration and turning into the low burn of arousal. Aether doesn't need to know about that.

Dew only gets in the shower after everyone else has left. He takes a deep breath as the pipes creak, slowly filling the space with steam as he strips down, piling his clothes on the shelf outside the shower stall. The water feels good on his sore muscles, the bruises certainly forming across his face.

He carefully washes off the rest of the blood crusted around his nostrils, hissing with sensitivity as the tender flesh stings. Dew knows the clock is ticking, quickly rinsing the rest of the sweat from his hair and skin.

Dew does not jump when he feels two big hands clamp onto his waist, thank you very much. They're so big that they nearly wrap all the way around, thumbs at the small of his back. He's shoved bodily towards the shower walls, and the anger banking in his gut rakes back up into roaring flames.

"Hey, spitfire," Swiss croons, and Dew twists to face him, snarling like something wild. He shoves hard again, Dew's back slamming against the cold tile wall. Dew at least has the satisfaction of seeing the mottled bruise forming across his left cheek, spilling down across his jaw.

"Fuck off," he spits, shoving back at Swiss's shoulders. He doesn't quite have the leverage he needs, and Swiss laughs as he's only pushed back a few inches into the spray. The water beats down on them, plastering Swiss's dark curls to his forehead.

"Thought I beat the fight out of you," he says, digging his fingers into pale skin. He presses painfully hard against Dew's hipbones, and he snarls again to cover the yelp of pain he wants to let out.

"Takes more than five punches to do that, jackass. You should fucking know better than that by now."

He shrugs, shoving Dew back against the ceramic and looming over him. He shoves a solid thigh between Dew's, nothing but cruel pressure. He flashes that stupid fucking infuriating grin, laughing in disbelief. "Putting up such a fight like you don't want this, and you're already hard," he mocks, digging into the metaphorical bruise as he presses his thigh harder. "Come on, spitfire, all you gotta do is say the word, and I'll make you feel so good."

Dew pants. The sensation already borders on too much too fast, despite the way his cock throbs against the solid muscle.

Any other night, exhausted and sore, he might be more likely to roll over and let Swiss have his way with the softness of his underbelly. Tonight though? After being beaten and dragged to the ice and pinned down in front of the entire arena? Dew's not feeling that submissive.

He shoots a hand up and grabs under Swiss's jaw, fingers digging into his bruised cheek. He shoves Swiss's head back and up. It shoves him back, easing the pressure between his legs. Dew almost mourns the loss.

Almost.

Dew's laughter echoes around the showers as Swiss sputters, water spraying him right in the face. It's cut off by Swiss's hand flying to his throat. He squeezes just hard enough to turn his laugh to a wheeze.

"Aww, peewee couldn't stay on his skates and now he's mad," Swiss mocks, voice childish and lips pursed with the force of Dew's grip. "Ice is swippery."

Dew sees red. He digs his blunt nails into the bruise on Swiss's cheek, pushing harder and harder on the outside of where he bit his cheek during the fight. The grunt the taller man lets out goes straight to his dick, but he ignores it. His other hand flies to Swiss's side, to where the other hit Dew had landed. He hopes it's tender. Dew didn't get a chance to see if that one had bruised before he had been shoved to the wall.

Swiss grunts. His eyes squeeze shut, Dew's fingers pressing dimples into his warm brown skin.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Dew hisses, eyes narrowing as Swiss lets go of his throat, hands up in surrender.

"Easy, spitfire," Swiss says, trying to look down at Dew from the angle he's forced his head back.

"Don't you dare 'easy, spitfire' me," Dew spits, squeezing harder. "I'm sick and fucking tired of you thinking that I'm just going to roll over like a fucking dog because you push me around. Newsflash, jackass, I can do that too."

Swiss tries to wrench his head free, but Dew pushes his head back until he can see the tendons straining with the stretch, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. Dew realizes with giddy delight that Swiss is nervous. "Let go of me and I'll make it real good for you," Swiss says, words still mumbled through pursed lips.

Dew laughs, pushing. Swiss steps back, foot slipping on the slick tile, some tacky teal pattern. His eyes flash wide and he scrabbles at Dew's shoulders seeking stability. "Yeah? You'll make it good for me?" Dew snaps, using Swiss's loss of balance to spin them around with ease.

Swiss skids on the tile, grunting as his back slams into the shower wall with a heavy thud. Dew doesn't relent his grip, glaring daggers at him.

"I don't need you to make it good for me. I can do that myself, my hand's just as good as you," Dew snaps, pushing harder and harder at Swiss's jaw, pinning his head to the tile. "Fucking better, even. What I need you to do, Swiss, is to fucking listen to me for once in your goddamn life. Kneel."

Swiss sputters, shoving wet curls off of his forehead and pushing forward into Dew's grip. He doesn't seem to care that he's choking himself. "Why the hell'd I listen to you?" he snaps, the fire coming back into his eyes.

Dew glances down lightning quick, smirking. "Because I'll make it good for you," he coos, throwing his words right back at him. "You're so hard, that looks like it hurts."

Swiss snarls, a big hand wrapping around Dew's wrist like he means to wrench himself free. Dew just smirks. His other hand presses hard into the mottled bruise forming on Swiss's side, something he'd noticed with glee when he'd glanced between his legs. Swiss's knees buckle, grunting angrily at the pain. It gives Dew enough leverage to shove him back against the wall. His head hits the wall a little harder than he meant to, but he's too angry to give a shit.

"You're fighting this like you don't want me to make you cum," Dew growls, the hand still grabbing Swiss's face pulling down. "Get on your knees."

"Fine. I'll indulge you." Swiss goes with it, glaring hard as he drops to one knee and then both, sinking below Dew's eye line. It's rare Dew gets to look down at him like this. It's nice. He could get used to this, even if the scowl on Swiss's face isn't quite the expression he wants to see.

"You're not going to indulge me," Dew says, finally letting go of Swiss's face. "You're going to behave for once in your fucking life."

Swiss sneers up at him, baring all of his too-white teeth. Dew doesn't have time to react before he's lunging forward. A burst of white-hot pain shoots through him.

"Fuck!" Dew yells, echoing around the showers. If any one of his teammates were still in the locker room, he's sure they'd have heard it. He grabs a handful of soaking wet curls and shoves Swiss's head back violently. He hits the wall, and he snarls at the impact.

Dew glances down at the bitemark on his hip, already red and angry and throbbing with his pulse. He swears he can count Swiss's fucking teeth embedded into his skin. "You piece of fucking shit! I was going to let you cum, but you went and fucked that up for yourself."

Swiss, for what it's worth, stays on his knees. There's a dazed, almost surprised look in his eyes, and Dew grins wildly. "How's it feel?" he sneers, tightening his grip in Swiss's hair. "Lookin' up at me for a change."

Swiss yanks back, pulling at the hand in his hair and hitting the tile wall with a thud. Clarity comes back to his eyes, steeling and turning dark. "Don't make a habit of this, spitfire. Think you're all high and mighty?"

Dew leans down, not loosening his grip in his curls. He gets so close that the bridges of their noses press together uncomfortably. "Oh, no, not at all. I just think you need to be put in your fucking place."

Swiss tries to lunge and bite again, but Dew intercepts him with a filthy kiss, licking at the roof of Swiss's mouth. He feels more than hears Swiss groan, the water still pouring down over them in a rush, the pipes protesting as steam floods the room.

"Here's the plan, spitfire," Dew snarls as he pulls back. "You're going to stay right here, and it's my turn. I've had a rough game. I deserve a little relief. And what'dya know? I got somebody fucking desperate for me right here. Now, if that's not true, the floor's yours. Speak up or hold your peace."

Dew's grin only twists wider as Swiss, for once in the entire time Dew has ever known him, stays quiet. He splutters, blinking water out of his eyes, but doesn't protest.

"Damn, if I had known you were this desperate to be a fucking slut, I would have gotten you on your knees ages ago," Dew says, shoving his wet hair out of his face. "Picks fights to turn himself on and doesn't care how he gets off, doesn't he? You'd fucking let me do anything I wanted to you as long as I made that dick cum."

Swiss spits out more water, growling as Dew yanks at his hair, twisting his head this way and that. "I'm playing nice, Dew," he snaps. "What do you want from me?"

"I think I should give you some rules," Dew says, leaning back and letting his gaze rake down Swiss's chest, the way droplets of water cling to his chest hair. "I mean. If you don't break them the way you break the rules out there. All of the cross checking and slashing and roughing. Tsk. Dunno how you're worth anything to your coach, you spend more time in the box than doing your job."

Swiss stares up at him, chest heaving as he pulls against Dew's unyielding grip in his hair. He snarls at the pain, panting even though he hasn't really been touched yet. His cock rests hard against one of his thick thighs, precum dripping and mixing with the water as it's washed away and down the drain. "I'll follow rules," he pants. "I promise I'll follow the rules."

Dew barks out a laugh, the sound bouncing around the tile.

"Don't talk. That's it. Just one rule," Dew snarls, leaning down until his forehead is pressed against Swiss's. "Do you think you can handle that much?"

"Yeah, I can handle that. I can be good. Please, I can be good," Swiss says, a pleading tone in his voice that Dew's never heard before. He wouldn't mind hearing it again. But-

"Damn, you really are a whore," Dew laughs. "All I need to do is pull you around a little bit and you're already fucking begging. Taste of your own medicine, huh? I just fucking told you the rule, dumbass. Don't fucking talk."

Swiss blinks, his jaw clenched tight as his eyes widen. Dew pulls at the fistful of curls and laughs as Swiss winces.

"Yeah, that's right, you dumb slut. One fucking rule, and you don't last five fucking seconds before you're running your big mouth." Dew crouches down, his other hand grabbing Swiss's jaw, digging into the bruised skin. "Don't worry, spitfire. I can help you. I'm a good guy, let me help you follow the one fucking rule I set. Your mouth's good for other things than talking, I'd bet that much."

Swiss's pupils blow dark and glassy, and he groans, leaning into Dew's hand. He nods. Dew grins, something glinting in the sharp blue of his eyes.

Swiss looks good on his knees. Dew can't deny it. Swiss looks even better when he's stunned.

He reels from the slap across his already bruised face, a sharp grunt escaping him, but he looks back at Dew, expectant. For what, Dew's not sure. Another slap? Another reprimand? Another order?

Dew stands, scoffing at the dumb look in Swiss's eye. "Open your mouth, Swiss."

Swiss finally breaks eye contact, gaze dropping to the sharp lines of Dew's hip, where his cock juts out proud and ruddy. He hesitates longer than Dew allows him. Dew reaches down and gives himself a few pumps.

"I said, open your fucking mouth."

Swiss shudders, letting his jaw fall open. He stares up at Dew, shifting on his knees. Tentatively, he reaches up and curls his hands around Dew's thighs, fingertips just barely dimpling the skin.

The room spins as Dew gets a glance of pink tongue. Shiny and wet with spit and the water running down his face. Dew takes himself in hand, squeezing the base. A bead of pre forms at the tip.

Dew pulls at Swiss's hair again, adjusting the angle of his head like he's just a toy for Dew to get off with. "Oh, one more thing."

Swiss blinks up at him, mouth open obediently. The tip of Dew's cock is mere inches away from his lips.

"If you even fucking think about touching yourself, I'm fucking leaving you here and getting off myself," Dew snaps. He doesn't give Swiss a moment to respond before he's shoving in.

Swiss gags, his eyes going wide at the intrusion. Dew pulls him further down until his nose is buried in sparse brown curls. Despite his shock, Swiss moans, lips sealed around the base of Dew's cock.

"Mmm, that's good," Dew groans, holding him down. Dew's a solid mouthful, though not as big as Swiss himself, but he's enough to struggle on. He squeezes his eyes shut, tipping his head back and letting the water wash over his face.

Swiss squeezes hard at his thighs, his throat working frantically around Dew's cock as he holds him down.

Dew pulls him off, and Swiss wheezes, coughing as oxygen rushes his system. "Fuck," he sputters, shifting on the wet tile. He tries to shake the water out of his face, the shower still pouring down over them.

Dew glances down, a wicked grin on his face as he sees Swiss get harder in his lap. "Damn, you're a whore," he taunts, nudging a bony shin between Swiss's thighs, nudging at his cock. He watches Swiss's too white teeth dig into his bottom lip at the touch. "Nope, nuh-uh, keep your mouth open."

It's addicting how quickly Swiss obeys. It makes Dew's head spin, or maybe it's just the hot water making his skin turn ruddy. Or is it just the heat of Swiss's mouth? Dew doesn't know, and he frankly couldn't care less.

He sets a fast pace, both of his hands settling on the sides of Swiss's head, fingers dug into his curls as he drags him up and down the length of his cock. Each pull punches a wet, choked noise from Swiss's throat.

The sound of the rushing water isn't close to enough to cover the obscene noises they're making. Dew groans each time the head of his cock pushes down Swiss's throat, the muscles working and squeezing around it.

"Fuck, that's it, just let me use you," Dew rambles as he shoves Swiss's head down. His lips seal around the base, tongue rubbing the vein along the underside as he finds out how Dew likes it.

Swiss groans, hollowing his cheeks and glancing up through thick, dark lashes. To Dew's delighted surprise, he's actually quite obedient with his mouth full. He hasn't made a single move to try and touch himself, hands still on Dew's thighs, squeezing the muscle as he tries to keep himself grounded.

"See, I knew you could behave," Dew snarls, punctuating his words with a sharp thrust. Swiss gags hard, brown eyes wide as blunt fingernails dig into Dew's skin. "Such a good boy with a cock in your throat, huh?"

Swiss can't answer. He groans, trying to suck harder as Dew manhandles him.

Dew throws his head back as the vibrations race up his spine, shorting out his nerves. "Dunno why I haven't done this before," he grunts, pulling Swiss back until only the tip is in his mouth. Dutifully, or a little drunk on it, Swiss sucks on it, tonguing at the slit like it's candy. "Your mouth is fucking sin, Swiss."

Swiss inhales wetly, struggling to keep his eyes open as the shower keeps pouring over them. The noise he makes when he tastes Dew's pre goes straight to his balls. As does the slick pop when he pulls out of Swiss's mouth completely.

Even as Swiss sucks in a breath, he almost whines, sharp and desperate. "What- No- Let me-"

"One fucking rule!" Dew roars, eyes burning like blue flame. "Shut your fucking mouth! It's not that fucking hard!"

Swiss's chest heaves as he leans back, letting the back of his head rest against the tile. Water washes over him, and he shuts his eyes.

Dew can't lie to himself. Swiss is a fucking vision, even disheveled and debauched. Still a little bit of blood crusted in the places the water hasn't hit. Bruised but with a light in his eyes that still refuses to be completely broken down.

"Do you know how many times you've made a mess of me, Swiss?" Dew asks, carding his spindly fingers through Swiss's soaked curls. Swiss almost preens into the touch.

He, very wisely, keeps his mouth shut, panting through his nose.

"I think I should return the favor, huh? Would you like that?" Dew taunts, keeping himself just out of range of Swiss's mouth. "For me to just use you the way you've been using me, and just leave you when I'm done? I think that's still too good for you. Open your mouth, tongue out."

It makes Dew's head spin to see how quickly Swiss obeys. Eyes glassy and tear filled, black instead of brown, tongue a shock of pink against his swollen bottom lip. Dew's quick to slap the tip of his cock against it. Both of them groan obscenely at the sound, Swiss's eyes fluttering shut before flying back open, his own cock kicking hard against his thigh.

The pang of lust that shoots through Dew at the sight makes him let go of himself, afraid he'll spill if he doesn't. He steadies himself for just a moment before he takes himself back in hand, squeezing the base hard before stroking himself furiously. He laughs when Swiss licks his swollen bottom lip and whines. A grown man, on his knees whining for cock. Dew makes sure to let him know just how fucking pathetic he's being.

Dew bites his lip hard enough to bleed, his other hand bracing himself against the shower wall. "You look so fucking good like this, fucking slut. What're you playing hockey for when this is clearly what you were meant for?"

Swiss's eyes flutter up, showing Dew the whites as he groans. His own dick visibly throbs against his thigh, and his hands loosen their grip on Dew.

"Good slut, following the rule," Dew coos sarcastically, twisting his wrist at the head of his dick and hissing through his teeth as the bolt of pleasure zips through him. "You want it? You gonna be good and make me cum?"

Swiss locks eyes with him, shifting on his undoubtedly sore knees with the slightest wince. He opens his mouth to speak but seems to remember himself; his jaw snaps shut with a click of teeth that must hurt. Swiss nods instead, shaking droplets of water from his hair with the franticness of it.

Dew laughs, hips stuttering into his own hand. The water is a poor lubricant, Swiss's spit and his own pre a little better. "I'll fight you every game if it means I get to have you like this after," Dew confesses, lust making his head spin in ways he's not sure if he likes or not. "Let you beat me into the ice if you get on your knees like a whore in penance."

Swiss doubles forward like he's been punched in the gut; Dew can feel the hot puffs of breath against his thigh, Swiss's forehead pressed to the bitemark he'd left on Dew's hip. It's still throbbing in time with his pulse. Dew bets it'll bruise. Just another mark Swiss has left on him.

Dew's knuckles brush past the bruise darkening Swiss's cheek, and he yelps as Dew speeds up his hand. "Oh, you poor thing," he coos, grunting as his hips buck forward into his own hand. It presses the line of his hipbone into him. "So fucking desperate, behaving so well for once in your life. If only you were like this out there, Swiss. Lower my fucking blood pressure."

Swiss bites his lip hard, eyes darting upward like he's looking for permission. For what, Dew's not sure. All he knows is that there's tension growing tighter and tighter at the very core of him, balls beginning to draw up closer to his body, and Swiss is at his feet begging wordlessly and it's doing something to his brain.

Dew shuts his eyes, grunting as he palms the head of his cock, ruddy and practically dripping pre onto Swiss's shoulder. The shower makes quick work of it, which is a complete and utter shame, considering what Dew wants to do to him.

His eyes fly open when he feels something hot and wet on his hip, right over where Swiss dug his teeth into him.

Staring down, Dew feels his stomach swoop as he locks eyes with Swiss, only a thin ring of brown visible around his pupils. He stares up through thick, dark lashes as he licks over the bite. If Dew didn't know any better, he'd say he almost looked apologetic.

The knot in his core tightens almost painfully, and Dew's eyes go wide. His hand never stops moving on his cock. "Fuck, shit, Swiss, gonna fucking make you look like the whore you are, lean back, look at me," Dew rambles, not caring about how desperation seeps into his tone, his hand moving slick over his cock.

Swiss doesn't react as quickly as Dew wants. Once again, his free hand grabs at his hair, wrenching him back from where he's laving attention over where he imprinted his own teeth into Dew's skin.

"Fucking- ugh- look at me, you asshole," Dew grunts as his balls draw up tight to his body, cock pulsing in his hand as he wrings an orgasm out of himself. Swiss flinches as the first rope of cum hits him right between the eyes.

Dew laughs, broken into a moan as he works himself through it, splattering as much mess as he can across Swiss's bruised face.

Swiss lets his mouth fall open, pink tongue lolling out. His eyes roll back when a rope of cum lands right on it, groaning loudly at the bitter, salty taste. Dew swears he feels his balls pulse at the sound.

Dew works himself through it until he starts to wince from oversensitivity, grunting and cursing the whole way through. Swiss doesn't stay as debauched as Dew'd like, even as he tries to maneuver Swiss's face out of the direct spray of the shower, the hot water finally starting to peter out.

They stare at each other, panting and chests heaving, for several long moments as Dew catches his breath. His eyes drag down Swiss's body, down the trail of coarse, dark hair that leads straight to his cock, leaking steadily onto his thigh.

Dew clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "Well, I have to admit you were a good boy," Dew shrugs, shifting his weight forward to toe absentmindedly at the head of Swiss's cock.

He yelps at the sudden stimulation, hips jerking forward instinctively. His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but isn't quite sure if Dew's rule is still in place.

Dew pretends not to notice, staring down at him and feigning disinterest. "You've, for the most part, followed the rule, and you made me cum. I suppose I should let you get off too."

Swiss's eyes light up, breath hitching. He shakes the water fruitlessly out of his curls, and Dew rolls his eyes as his hands flex on his thighs, not sure of what to do with them.

Dew nudges his shin further between Swiss's thighs. "You wanna get off so bad?" Dew mocks as Swiss's hips rut forward once before he manages to keep them still. "You did sneak in here to get your dick wet." Dew glances up at the shower head and snorts at his own joke. "I know you can move those hips. Hump."

"O-oh, fuck," Swiss whispers, softly but trembling. Dew can't bring himself to call him out on his transgression. He rocks his hips forward with a groan, forehead pressing into Dew's hipbone as he finds a rhythm.

Dew feels drunk on power, watching the biggest source of his headaches over the last year and a half pathetically humping his leg like a dog. Swiss's big hands curl around his thigh just to hold on. His hips stutter, and he quickly loses the rhythm he'd set, going faster and faster as he grinds his cock against Dew's shin. Dew can feel Swiss's breaths panting against his skin.

"Look at me," Dew coos, sneering down at him. "Fucking pathetic, you know? Getting off like this?" He rolls his eyes when Swiss, a little too lost chasing his own pleasure, doesn't look up or respond in any way.

He pulls at a handful of curls, angling Swiss's head back until he can meet his eyes. "Speak. Beg for me to let you cum."

Dew didn't think it was physically possible for Swiss's pupils to dilate any further. He's proven wrong as he feels Swiss's dick blurt precum against his shin. The shower, getting a little too cold to be comfortable, washes it away.

"Oh fuck, Dew, p-please, Dew let me," Swiss starts. Heat blooms in Dew's chest when he hears just how raspy and used his voice sounds. "I did what you said, I made you cum, please let me cum. Tell me I can. Fuck, thank you for letting me."

Dew grins, a thought floating in the back of his mind. "Are you close?" He asks, cocking his head as he stares down at him.

Swiss pants, chest heaving. "I've been close since you started fucking my throat," Swiss admits. There's no hiding the valiant twitch that Dew's soft cock gives.

"You know what?" Dew says, disinterested. "I suppose you can cum. Just tell me when."

Swiss's eyes go wide, and his hips redouble. "'M really close," he pants, tongue licking at the corner of his mouth where a smear of Dew's cum hadn't been washed away yet.

Dew can feel his cock stiffen impossibly harder, his balls start to draw up against the top of his foot where his leg is shoved between his thighs. He locks eyes with Swiss, blue burning into brown. "Cum."

Swiss's eyes roll back into his head, a stuttering grunt falling from his lips as he falls over the edge. Dew's mouth quirks up as he wrenches his leg away, stepping back as he watches horrified realization fill Swiss's expression.

"Oh fuck, Dew, no!" Swiss tries to reach for himself, but Dew swats his hand away as his dick pulses, dripping cum pathetically, orgasm hitting but nowhere near satisfying.

"I said you could cum, not that I'd let it be good for you. Taste of your own medicine, you annoying son of a bitch," Dew scoffs, grinning. The water is ice cold.

Dew gives Swiss one more once over; shaking as the ruined orgasm courses through him, hand outstretched as Dew steps back, soaking wet and still covered with a little blood and cum despite the shower's best efforts to wash away all the evidence.

He turns to grab his clothes, giving Swiss one last glance. "Suppose I'll see you next game."

Dew vanishes out of the showers, leaving Swiss on his bruised knees staring after him.

[iamthecomet]

Kinktober Day 17 - Nipple Play

Guys, it's just 900 (ish) words of Swiss playing with Dew's nipples and ruining his life. A little lactation kink thrown in because that's what happens when you leave me unsupervised.

“Bet you can cum like this.” 

Dew shakes his head. Vehement. Sweaty golden hair cascading into his face as he does.  He leans back, body arching head dipping away from Swiss even as Swiss holds him firmly on his lap with an arm around his waist. Fingers digging into his hip to keep Dew exactly where he wants them. 

It’s early morning. The sun just starting to peek over the horizon. Dew is undercaffinated and still sleep warm in Swiss’ arms. And that means that Dew is basically defenseless. Dew’s still shaking his head like he’s trying to chase the thought away entirely. 

“No.” 

Swiss doesn’t respond to that. Doesn need to. Instead, he seals his lips around one of Dew’s swollen nipples. He sucks hard, tugs on the ring through it with his teeth. Dew’s back arches deeper as he presses his body closer to the heat of Swiss’s mouth. 

He uses his fingers on the other one. Plucking, twisting. None too kind. But Dew loves it if the way his cock spits between their bellies is any way to judge. Swiss could help him out. Hitch Dew a little closer on his hips, rub their dicks together. Tips sticky and wet. Could have Dew cumming all over him in a matter of seconds like that. But this is better. The aborted little rolls of Dew’s hips. Stutterin when he realizes there is nothing to grind against. The broken noise he makes when Swiss really digs his teeth in. 

Swiss pulls back. A string of spit connecting his lips to Dew’s nipple as he tips his head up. Leans back against the mahogany headboard and looks at Dew. Really takes him in. Dew’s red down to his throat. His hair damp with sweat. Fingers clenching and releasing against Swiss’ back. Jaw slack, mouth glazed. 

“They always get so puffy for me,” Swiss muses, and Dew whimpers at the words. Swiss gives his nipple a cruel twist and Dew jolts. Somewhere between trying to pull away and push closer. Hips jerking forward. 

“Swiss–fuck–please.” 

“Please what? Firefly?” 

“Touch me.” 

“I am.” Swiss drives the point home with another sharp twist. The press of the flat of his tongue over the other sensitive bud. Dew growls. Frustrated, desperate, needy in a way he only gets when Swiss does this to him. Torture that Dew has learned to beg for. “How much longer until they let down, huh?” 

“Fuck–don’t say shit like that.” 

Swiss ignores him. “Get them all swollen, nice and full for me? Huh? You’d like it.” 

Dew shakes his head again, but Swiss can feel the way his cock kick between them. He hears the whine Dew tries to hide with clenched teeth. . “Bet it’s real sweet.” 

“Satanas, Swiss. What the fuck?” 

“You’d look so pretty like that too,” Swiss cups his hand around the non-existent swell of Dew’s pec. “Puffed up, aching. Cute little tits. Bet if I work at them enough it’ll happen. Does it hurt?” 

Dew nods without any hesitation. Blush deepening. Spreading down his chest now. . "Y-yeah, please. Come on. Just touch me already. Make me cum." 

"I'm trying." Swiss grazes his teeth over Dew's nipple and Dew thrashes. 

"Can't cum like this, Swiss. Can't. Fucking hells, need you to touch it. Need–" 

"No you don't," Swiss kisses him over his heart. Sweet. A bitter contrast to the tone of his voice. Dew is falling apart in his arms and Swiss is insane with it. Stomach clenching. Cock kicking. He'll bury himself in Dew's body soon. Fuck him until his eyes get misty. But first–

"You can do it, Dewy. For me. I know you can." 

Dew's near panic is so sweet. The way he whines. How he tries to scoot his hips closer so he can rut against Swiss' belly. Anything to make it happen, anything to please Swiss. To give him this. It’s an impossible task. But Swiss isn’t about to let up. Not until Dew’s nipples are red and raw. Not until he’s had his fill of sweat slicked skin. 

He rolls a nipple beneath his thumb and basks in the way it makes Dew gasp. Barely a touch. Swiss looks down and finds the tip of Dew’s dick flushed so dark it’s nearing purple. Sticking straight out from his body. Kicking wildly as Swiss toys with him. 

“Swiss–please,” Dew voice is a pathetic whine. Another few minutes and Swiss knows Dew will promise him anything for a chance to cum. 

“Not yet.” Swiss mumbles, sucking hard on the pebbled bud. Rock hard and swollen beneath his tongue. Dew bows in on himself. Hiccups on a moan. Body shuddering beautifully in Swiss’ grip. He wonders what they have to do today. Rehearsal probably. Mass later. He can’t wait to see Dew wince when his guitar strap shifts the wrong way. Can’t wait to scurry across the stage and touch him through his uniform. Drag his fingers over those bruised nipples while Dew fumbles through a solo. 

Maybe Dew will fuck him about it later. 

“Come on, Swiss.” Dew begs so beautifully. Swiss could listen to it forever. 

“Not until they let down. Not until you give me a taste.” Swiss’ mouth descends again, worrying abused flesh with his teeth. Dew sobs, Swiss has never heard a sweeter sound. 

[nastylittleghouls]

Swiss: Dew was right, Aeth. Dewdrop: Say it louder! Swiss: I do not love this side of you Aether: *hides grin behind coffee mug*

[ghoul-slime]

Kinktober/Ghostober 2023 - Day 2 - Tail Play (Swiss/Dew)

Day 2: Tail Play (Swiss/Dew + cum eating, handjobs, rimming, begging)

Dew is lounging in bed, curled up in a comfy pair of pajama pants and watching some trashy 80s slasher movie on his phone when Swiss slams his bedroom door open.

Dew yelps, startled. “Jesus fuck, Swiss! What the hell?” 

Swiss doesn’t answer. Instead he saunters in, grinning down at Dew with a too-wide, toothy smile, and kicks the door closed behind him with another slam.

Dew frowns, unimpressed. His tail flicks in annoyance.

“Take your pants off.” Swiss nods his head at Dew, still balking at him from the bed.

“Uhh,” Dew answers dumbly. He wants to be angry, to put up a fight, but he can already feel his cock twitch, starting to fatten up, taking interest.

“Take your pants off,” Swiss repeats himself. He stalks up to the edge of the bed, holding Dew’s gaze. He’s still grinning, white fangs glinting in the low light of Dew’s bedroom. He reaches out to tug at the string of Dew’s sweatpants, untying the knot and letting the loose ends fall back against Dew’s bare belly.

“Take your pants off,” he repeats a third time.

“Alright, jeez,” Dew grumbles. “So bossy…” Dew lifts his hips to shimmy out of his sweatpants. His cock is fully hard by the time he sits back down on the bed naked, kicking his pants off the other side of the bed to the floor. He grumbles again, feigning irritation, but Dew has never had a bad time in bed with Swiss. Whatever Swiss has in store for him will undoubtedly be worth it.

“On your hands and knees.”  

Dew feels his face go hot as he turns to obey, arranging himself on his hands and knees on the blankets. As soon as his face is down he hears Swiss opening the drawer to his nightstand and rummaging around. Then the pop of a cap followed by the slick, wet sound of lube on skin.

Dew exhales a shaky breath, buries his face into the pillows, spreads his knees just a little wider. Arches his back, pretty and waiting and obedient. He expects to feel the blunt head of Swiss’ fat cock nudging at his hole. Maybe two of Swiss’ slick fingers slipping inside him to work him open. Dew’s cock twitches in anticipation.

Dew yelps when instead he feels a slick hand wrap around the base of his tail and tug, pulling him back before sliding wet and warm down the length of him from the base to the pointed spade at the tip.  

Dew feels Swiss’ lips find their way to the base of his spine, just at the top of the cleft of his ass. Kissing and licking, trailing little nips down to the base of his tail.

“Ohhhh,” Dew groans out when Swiss grips him again, squeezing with his fist, jacking his tail like it’s his dick. Sliding up and down the length of him with wet, filthy sounds. Dew’s cock spits out a dribble of pre in response.

His tail is sensitive, and the way Swiss is squeezing and tugging at him, pulling him off with a slick fist wrapped around him has him whimpering. He presses his face into the pillows, squirming and pleading for more.

Swiss answers by mouthing at the base of his tail, where it feels so good, almost ticklish. He feels the heat coil in his gut as Swiss licks and sucks at him wet and messy. He laves his tongue across the base where tail becomes spine, biting and kissing as his hand continues to stroke up and down the long, spindly length.

When Swiss pulls his mouth away, Dew whines at the loss. He feels the bed dip as Swiss rearranges himself, grips his tail with two hands and continues to stroke him, hands slicking their way down his tail to the tip, where Dew feels him guide the spade into the wet heat of his open mouth.

Swiss licks at him, trails his tongue across the edge of the spade, laps at the flat of it, wraps his lips around the whole of it and sucks. 

“Swiss! Ohhhh, fuck,” Dew cries out, legs shaking and cock kicking, dribbling a wet patch of pre onto the bedsheets between his knees. Dew feels the slick build up between his cheeks, running down his thighs. His body is a quivering, sensitive mess, and Swiss hasn’t even touched his cock once.

Swiss deepthroats his tail, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, jacking Dew off with two hands as he works the tip of him with his mouth.

“Please! Please, Swiss, ohhhhhh” Dew cries out again, rolling his hips. Humping his straining cock pathetically into the air as Swiss works him. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, but Dew feels like he might be close to tears. It feels so good, and yet not nearly enough.

Swiss pulls off with a pop, gives one quick nip to the tip of the spade with a sharp fang, pulling a high-pitched yelp from Dew’s lips before he’s kissing and licking a wet trail back up the length of Dew’s tail. He licks and sucks, spit dripping, mixing in with the slick of the lube as he mouths his way back up towards the base of Dew’s spine.

When he gets there, he grips the base in a firm fist and lifts, exposing Dew’s pink little hole. Wet and waiting. Swiss dives in, licking across the twitching, fluttering ring of muscle. He drags his tongue through the slick, mouths back up and across it to lick and suck at the base of Dew’s tail.

It’s all too much, Dew cries out pathetically, clawing at the sheets and drooling into the pillows as Swiss eats him out, sucks at the sensitive skin between his hole and his tail. Tongue running across every inch of him. Down his balls, up to his hole, and back to the base of his tail. He tugs at him as he jacks it off, just on the right side of too rough, pushing and pulling Dew’s shaking body as he works him over. Dew’s cock kicks out another spurt of pre, the tip angry red and the length of him straining.

Swiss takes one hand off of him and Dew can hear fabric rustling as Swiss pulls his cock out, slicking it up with the spit and lube still coating his hand. Swiss jacks himself off as he eats Dew out, squeezes the base of his tail, pulling it up and open, exposing him for his tongue and mouth.

Swiss bites down into the meat of Dew’s ass cheek when he cums. He crowds in, paints ropes of cum across Dew’s lower back, across his twitching hole, shoots across his tail.

Dew whines, arches his back, begging for Swiss to finish him off as he feels Swiss’ warm cum dribble down his skin, mixing in with the wet of the lube and spit already covering his sensitive body.

Swiss is back on him in an instant, curling around to grip Dew’s neglected cock with a wet hand, jerking him off in rapid, rough little strokes. Dew comes with a shout when Swiss dips down, wraps his lips around the base of his tail, lapping up lube and sweat and his own cum. Swiss works him through his orgasm, milking him for every drop as he shudders and hiccups and sobs through it, pressing his face into the tear-stained and drool-soaked fabric of his pillows.

Swiss pulls back with a little kiss to the bruised bite mark he left on Dew’s asscheek and helps to flip him over. Lays Dew down gently into the wet mess of his bed before diving in to kiss him deep, licking into his mouth. Letting Dew taste a mix of himself and Swiss. Dew hums into the kiss, satisfied.

When Dew opens his eyes, Swiss is grinning down at him again. Toothy and smug and looking fucking proud of himself.

Dew pouts up at him, doing his best to try and look grumpy despite the fucked out look on his face. His messy hair and blushing cheeks. 

Swiss kisses him again, nips at his neck, nuzzles into him until Dew is making satisfied little chirps and hums.

“C’mon, Spitfire, stop pouting,” Swiss offers, scooping the little ghoul up in his arms. “Let’s get cleaned up and then you can finish watching your movie in my bed.”

[noahl-art]

maybe you should draw something abt it *twirls hair and bats my eyes at you*

obvs you do not have to buuuut 👀

CROW!!!! 👀👀👀 You don't need to ask twice 🥴 Here is the FULL VERSION!!

and based on this incredible fic by @forlorn-crows 🥴

[st-danger]

Dew: paint me like one of your french girls (joke)

Swiss: okay (not joke)

Dew: embarrassed and flushed and hard as hell as he sits while Swiss draws him. Nothing more than an object to be captured on paper (he’s never been more turned on)

He's never hidden his pens and art books, but he's never advertised it either. It's just something Swiss does, the sketching. Scenes from the tour bus. Scenery. Sometimes nothing at all but shapes and squiggles filling an entire page just because he can.

To be the centre of his attention in general makes Dew preen. To be the sole focus like this is an overwhelming and decadent kind of thing, he thinks.

Inspected, observed. A vehicle for Swiss to use as a creative outlet.

"Legs spread," Swiss says, again. "Don't hide. Let me see it."

Dew leans back on the bed, locking his arms behind him, and parts his legs.

"Good. Hold that," Swiss murmurs, sounding almost distracted alongside the push and pull of the pencil. Long, loose lines Dew can't wait to see. Under the approval, Dew feels familiar heat low in his belly.

"Like the view?" he can't help but ask, tilting his head and gifting Swiss with a wry smile.

"It's nice," Swiss agrees and Dew rolls his eyes.

"It's more than nice," he corrects. He knows what he looks like; he doesn't feel it egotistical in the least to acknowledge that the form he wears Above Ground is an attractive one. Swiss allows a knowing smirk, a brief flash before his concentration is back, face carefully neutral once more.

"Stroke it for me," he says, like it's a normal request, casual. Dew draws a breath, pleased. His left hand moves from the bed and comes to rest on his chest. Slowly, slowly, Dew lets his fingers trail down his sternum, his belly. Showy and unnecessary, but Swiss is here to observe and enjoy; far be it from Dew to deny him. He sees the way Swiss's eyes follow the lines he draws, down further, brushing over a hint of hair below his navel, down to the patch of hair at the base of his cock. Finally, curling around his shaft, holding himself in a loose fist. It's teasing, his movements. Light. At odds with how heavy he's leaning back in his right hand to hold him up.

The pencil scratches against the paper and Dew plays with himself.

He feels less like he's under a spotlight in stage and more like he's under a microscope. The intensity with which Swiss is staring at him, at every turn of his wrist- he always gets flushed when aroused. Always. And it will spill down his neck, onto his chest as it always does. He wonders if Swiss will shade him darker there.

"You can go faster," Swiss says after a few minutes of Dew's lazy toying. He agrees, of course, but,

"Is that a suggestion or is that what the artist requires?" he drawls. Swiss looks up from the page with dark eyes.

"If you're gonna sit for this, I need full cooperation." Dew feels a frission of pleasure zing down his spine.

"Of course," he agrees, hand tightening, working himself faster, dick filling out quicker. "Wouldn't want to disrupt your...creative process."

"'Course not," Swiss replies. The sketchbook is held steady in his lap. "You're a good boy."

If Dew were to, say, let out a hint of a pained moan, Swiss doesn't acknowledge it.

He pulls at himself in even, measured pumps, fully hard in little time at all and chewing on his lip. Swiss avoids his eyes, looking only over his naked body or the paper in his lap. Not seeing him for him. He's an object to be appreciated, and Dewdrop so loves to be adored.

It's a thrill.

He knows under the sketchbook, Swiss is hard. He's thick and heavy in his pants, and he's adjusted his posture twice in the chair, subtly uncomfortable. Dew enjoys this particular brand of suffering for himself, and it's made all the sweeter for knowing he isnt the only one. He can't stop himself from pushing his hips into his fist.

"Stay still," Swiss chides.

He stops stroking, lets go, and his stiffy sways. Swiss raises a brow.

"It's hard," Dew shrugs. "You want me still-"

"Hold it."

Dew stares for a moment, and then wraps his fingers around the base, squeezing.

"Hold it still?"

Swiss does not respond, merely goes back to short strokes on the page and Dew waits for any further instruction. It doesn't come. A long, silent minute passes.

"Tip wet yet?" Swiss asks, not even looking up from the page. Dew swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

"Not yet," he says.

"Let me know when it is."

[thatonerat420]

Cirrus: Why don’t you go talk to Dew?

Swiss, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure.

Cirrus: What? So you go tell him hes cute, what’s the worst that could happen?

Swiss: He could hear me, and then maul me.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Dew, lounging around in his underwear: "Satan's balls, it's too fucking hot..." Swiss, glancing over: "Why do you have the fan aimed at your crotch?" Dew: "It's this, or I lose the underwear entirely." Swiss: "Like I said-"

[riconas]

can i perhaps request some swissdew.. maybe mean swiss if you’re feeling it?

i am always feeling it ricky

combining with this ask for the full experience:

tags: masochism, pain kink, degradation, rough sex, whole carnival of kinks over here

“Are you mad at me,” Dew asks flatly.

Swiss doesn’t respond. He isn’t in the mood for mediocre verbal sparring—it’ll only get him more riled up. He pushes Dew backwards onto the mattress and crawls between his skinny legs, grabbing the waistband of Dew's sweatpants to pull them down to his knees.

“You can’t be serious,” Dew splutters. “You’re gonna fuck about it?”

“Are you complaining?”

A thin trail of smoke trickles from Dew’s nostrils and up into the air. “Go to therapy,” Dew snaps, but shucks his pants off all the same. What a bad actor. He isn’t even hard yet, barely half-chubbed, but Swiss will fix that.

“Colour system,” he says, unbuckling his belt and stripping his jeans off. “Lie down.”

Dew goes compliantly, pulling his legs up to expose his hole. He isn’t dripping yet, probably because he isn’t horny enough that his body has responded. Doesn’t matter.

Swiss spits in his hand, smears it over his dick, jacks himself a few times. Keeps the other hand firmly on Dew’s stomach, pinning him like a bug. He’d normally take his time with prep, open Dew up nice and slow, maybe even get him to cum a couple times, get him to loosen up. But he’s pissed as hell right now, and he wants to see Dew cry. He lines himself up, buzzing with anticipation at how tight Dew’s going to be, and pushes hard against his hole until the head pops in.

“Ow, fuck,” Dew whines, squirming under the hand pinning him. “Fucker. There’s lube in the bedside table, fuck—”

Swiss barks out a laugh. “Now you want lube? The little painslut wants lube?” He thumbs at Dew’s lower lip, pulling it down, exposing the wet pink of his mouth. “Not enough water ghoul in you?”

Dew screws his eyes shut. That hit a nerve, Swiss knows.

“You’re such a dick,” Dew manages to say, voice strained and distracted by the pain, and sure, maybe Swiss could be kinder, but then again. Dew doesn’t deserve that.

Swiss presses in a little further, then a lot further, and Dew pants and pants until Swiss’s thighs hit his ass. He won’t look at Swiss, won’t even spare him the courtesy of opening his eyes. Not even when Swiss slaps him, not hard, but with enough force that it rings out loud and clear.

“Open your eyes,” Swiss says. He grabs Dew by the chin and unceremoniously jostles his head around, like he’s trying to shake the brat out of it. Dew only shuts his eyes tighter. “Don’t be such a baby. Does it hurt that bad?”

Dew nods. It’s the only response Swiss has gotten out of him, so it has to mean something. He sighs, overdramatic, making sure Dew knows exactly how disappointed he is, and grabs Dew by the throat.

“Take it. You’ll be fine in a minute.”

Dew whines again. He does sound like he’s in pain, which Swiss wouldn’t tolerate if it was anyone else, but he can’t be bothered to care now. There will be time to feel bad later. He grabs Dew’s little waist and pulls him onto his cock, balls slapping against the back of Dew’s thighs.

“Fu-uck,” Dew mewls, eyes screwing shut, and he looks so pathetic that Swiss has to do it again. He grabs Swiss’s wrists, squeezing with what looks like all his might but feels like almost nothing.

Swiss looks down at his little cock, still only half-hard, waggling around as he fucks Dew into the mattress, and can’t help but wonder—if he laughs, will Dew cry?

“I can’t cum like this,” Dew pants. “Not like this—Swiss, c’mon, you know I can’t cum like this—”

“That’s the point,” Swiss says matter-of-factly. “You think I’m doing this for you?”

“At least let me,” Dew cries. “If you’re gonna make it hurt so bad.”

Swiss stops. “Colour, Dew.”

“Green, fucker, why’d you stop—”

Dew’s fine, Swiss tells himself, as he pulls out all the way to watch Dew’s hole wink at him before slamming in once again. Dew’s fine enough to talk back, fine enough to put up a fight. Fine enough to dig his claw into Swiss’s shoulders, scratching and piercing in all his burning glory.

“Not like this,” he keeps saying. “C’mon, Swiss, not like this.” And then: “Please, Swiss, not like this,” and Swiss knows he’s won.

“Say it again,” he demands.

Dew does not hesitate. “Please! Don’t leave me like this, I wanna cum—with you, please, please, please—”

“Apologise first,” Swiss pants. “Then I’ll consider it.”

[dam1en-69]

was playing rblx spray paint last night, heres a doodle from it (it was getting greifed 24/7.)