When they’re both bare against each other, there’s almost too many sensations to catalog. The heat of the floor through the moss, the drag of Caduceus’s soft, velvet skin.
Caduceus sits back to look at him. His gaze is straightforward, but there’s an intensity to it that makes part of Fjord want to hide, suddenly self-conscious about—he doesn’t know. His skin toughened by work and salt, the ungainliness of his frame made suddenly bigger, the uncertain half-growth of his tusks? It’s ridiculous, when he thinks about it, but he can’t help but feed exposed, especially next to Caduceus’s ease in his own skin.
“Look at you,” Caduceus says with a quiet, matter-of-fact awe. He passes his hand over Fjord’s chest, coming to rest on his sternum. “She made you anew. Well, no. Made you who you’re supposed to be, maybe.”
Caduceus shifts back, and the slick heat of him drags along Fjord's cock, his length rubbing up between Caduceus’s lips, and Fjord cries out. Caduceus is so, so wet, like late spring, like the thick air before a storm. Caduceus hums, deep and content. Fjord can feel it vibrate in his chest.
“Oh. Oh, that’s nice,” Caduceus says.
He rocks his hips carefully, reaching back, and slowly fits Fjord inside himself.
He's so tight, so hot inside. Fjord is almost scared to hurt him. He wants to trust that the Wildmother would not ask him to do anything to hurt Caduceus. But Caduceus seems to be doing just fine. He sinks down further, a look of concentration on his face.
The tightness eases, and Fjord can feel the clutch of Caduceus’s body open for him, sweet and easy. Caduceus shifts his hips back, seeking, and the thicker second ridge of Fjord’s cock slots into him. It makes Fjord see stars, and Caduceus shudders all over, making a deep, pleased noise. His hips dip shallowly, working the ridge of Fjord’s cock in and out of himself until they’re both panting.
“Is it—is it all right?” Fjord says, breathless, desperate. Wanting to please. Wanting to fuck Caduceus into sated softness. Wanting to give anything that he can give.
“Mm,” Caduceus says, after a moment's thought. "I. Oh. Oh, I like it. I like it a lot. Feels nice, you know? Full." He strokes Fjord’s jaw. “You’re doing good.”
And—and there’s a rush of heat along the ridge of his spine, in his chest. It feels like a benediction.
Caduceus shudders, his long body spilling against Fjord, covering him as they move against each other, easy as the swell of waves against a beach.
The smell of wet earth is thick and lush on Caduceus’s skin. The fall of his hair is bright, fading to a dusty, cool pink at the roots, proof of his own body adapting to the land around them.
He's the strangest, most beautiful thing that Fjord has ever seen.
Caduceus takes Fjord all the way to the base with a breathless groan, and Fjord throws his head back, everything so tight, so hot, so utterly overwhelming.
“You smell like the sea,” Caduceus says. “Like the first time I saw it. You’re amazing. You’re going to do amazing things.”
Fjord doesn’t trust himself to speak. He reaches between them to touch Caduceus, quick, firm circles on him as Caduceus grows more breathless, a heavy whine escaping him. He wants to give Caduceus this, to serve him as he might serve his goddess.
Caduceus clenches around him, shaking and sudden. Fjord reaches up, feeling Caduceus’s skinny chest rise and fall frantically under his hand.
Between his fingers, green sprouts rise from Caduceus’s skin, turn to bright bloom, wilt to dust, and rise again in a span of seconds, over and over, endless and hallucinatory. He touches Caduceus’s collarbone, and delicate veiled mushrooms sprout along its rise. Soft, tender moss blooms along the line of Caduceus’s neck.
This, I entrust to you. This, I would have you entrust to each other.
Caduceus moves with him, encouraging him, urging him on, and when Fjord comes, it feels like giving himself over, like letting go and trusting that he will be caught.
He cups Caduceus’s jaw. Caduceus turns his mouth into his hand, his breath held in Fjord’s palm. Fjord feels dwarfed by everything encompassing him, feels powerful beyond belief, feels safe and cradled like never before.
Caduceus lifts off of his cock out with a low, satisfied groan. Fjord slips his hand down to cup him lightly, giving him pressure to move against, if he wants it. A swell of pride blooms in his chest when Caduceus cups his hand over his with a low, happy hum, his hips slowly rolling into Fjord’s palm.
He can feel the wet softness of Caduceus against his hand, and he wonders, with a rush of embarrassing heat, if he can feel his come dripping out of Caduceus as well.
Another rolling wave of feeling seems to pass over Caduceus, a slow and easy wash of uncomplicated pleasure. He tips over to lie next to Fjord.
Caduceus cups his face. His blunt thumb strokes over Fjord’s cheek.
“You’re going to be great,” Caduceus says, after a moment.
Fjord ducks his head. “I hope so.”
“You are,” Caduceus says, easy as that. He stretches. “Hm. I’m kind of hungry. Should I make us something?”
Fjord laughs. It rises out of him, easy and undeniable, too relieved for words. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed. He laughs and laughs, and Caduceus looks at him with friendly bemusement.
Fjord brushes the remnants of flower petals and moss away from Caduceus’s chest. There’s a part of his mind that says that this horticultural sex thing is this is pretty fucking weird, but he can’t bring himself to give it much mind.
Caduceus is solid beside him, warm and present. All of them are there with him, Beau and Jester and Caleb and Nott, willing to trust him in a way that makes an awed gratefulness rise in his chest. There’s an alcove of silvery sword-plants in a volcano, and there’s the smell of spring blossoms and kelp in the middle of a snowy wilderness. It doesn’t make any sense.
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timeasmymeasure
benediction (Fjord/Caduceus, E) (2/2)
Date: 2019-08-26 02:04 am (UTC)Caduceus sits back to look at him. His gaze is straightforward, but there’s an intensity to it that makes part of Fjord want to hide, suddenly self-conscious about—he doesn’t know. His skin toughened by work and salt, the ungainliness of his frame made suddenly bigger, the uncertain half-growth of his tusks? It’s ridiculous, when he thinks about it, but he can’t help but feed exposed, especially next to Caduceus’s ease in his own skin.
“Look at you,” Caduceus says with a quiet, matter-of-fact awe. He passes his hand over Fjord’s chest, coming to rest on his sternum. “She made you anew. Well, no. Made you who you’re supposed to be, maybe.”
Caduceus shifts back, and the slick heat of him drags along Fjord's cock, his length rubbing up between Caduceus’s lips, and Fjord cries out. Caduceus is so, so wet, like late spring, like the thick air before a storm. Caduceus hums, deep and content. Fjord can feel it vibrate in his chest.
“Oh. Oh, that’s nice,” Caduceus says.
He rocks his hips carefully, reaching back, and slowly fits Fjord inside himself.
He's so tight, so hot inside. Fjord is almost scared to hurt him. He wants to trust that the Wildmother would not ask him to do anything to hurt Caduceus. But Caduceus seems to be doing just fine. He sinks down further, a look of concentration on his face.
The tightness eases, and Fjord can feel the clutch of Caduceus’s body open for him, sweet and easy. Caduceus shifts his hips back, seeking, and the thicker second ridge of Fjord’s cock slots into him. It makes Fjord see stars, and Caduceus shudders all over, making a deep, pleased noise. His hips dip shallowly, working the ridge of Fjord’s cock in and out of himself until they’re both panting.
“Is it—is it all right?” Fjord says, breathless, desperate. Wanting to please. Wanting to fuck Caduceus into sated softness. Wanting to give anything that he can give.
“Mm,” Caduceus says, after a moment's thought. "I. Oh. Oh, I like it. I like it a lot. Feels nice, you know? Full." He strokes Fjord’s jaw. “You’re doing good.”
And—and there’s a rush of heat along the ridge of his spine, in his chest. It feels like a benediction.
Caduceus shudders, his long body spilling against Fjord, covering him as they move against each other, easy as the swell of waves against a beach.
The smell of wet earth is thick and lush on Caduceus’s skin. The fall of his hair is bright, fading to a dusty, cool pink at the roots, proof of his own body adapting to the land around them.
He's the strangest, most beautiful thing that Fjord has ever seen.
Caduceus takes Fjord all the way to the base with a breathless groan, and Fjord throws his head back, everything so tight, so hot, so utterly overwhelming.
“You smell like the sea,” Caduceus says. “Like the first time I saw it. You’re amazing. You’re going to do amazing things.”
Fjord doesn’t trust himself to speak. He reaches between them to touch Caduceus, quick, firm circles on him as Caduceus grows more breathless, a heavy whine escaping him. He wants to give Caduceus this, to serve him as he might serve his goddess.
Caduceus clenches around him, shaking and sudden. Fjord reaches up, feeling Caduceus’s skinny chest rise and fall frantically under his hand.
Between his fingers, green sprouts rise from Caduceus’s skin, turn to bright bloom, wilt to dust, and rise again in a span of seconds, over and over, endless and hallucinatory. He touches Caduceus’s collarbone, and delicate veiled mushrooms sprout along its rise. Soft, tender moss blooms along the line of Caduceus’s neck.
This, I entrust to you. This, I would have you entrust to each other.
Caduceus moves with him, encouraging him, urging him on, and when Fjord comes, it feels like giving himself over, like letting go and trusting that he will be caught.
He cups Caduceus’s jaw. Caduceus turns his mouth into his hand, his breath held in Fjord’s palm. Fjord feels dwarfed by everything encompassing him, feels powerful beyond belief, feels safe and cradled like never before.
Caduceus lifts off of his cock out with a low, satisfied groan. Fjord slips his hand down to cup him lightly, giving him pressure to move against, if he wants it. A swell of pride blooms in his chest when Caduceus cups his hand over his with a low, happy hum, his hips slowly rolling into Fjord’s palm.
He can feel the wet softness of Caduceus against his hand, and he wonders, with a rush of embarrassing heat, if he can feel his come dripping out of Caduceus as well.
Another rolling wave of feeling seems to pass over Caduceus, a slow and easy wash of uncomplicated pleasure. He tips over to lie next to Fjord.
Caduceus cups his face. His blunt thumb strokes over Fjord’s cheek.
“You’re going to be great,” Caduceus says, after a moment.
Fjord ducks his head. “I hope so.”
“You are,” Caduceus says, easy as that. He stretches. “Hm. I’m kind of hungry. Should I make us something?”
Fjord laughs. It rises out of him, easy and undeniable, too relieved for words. Everything has changed, and yet nothing has changed. He laughs and laughs, and Caduceus looks at him with friendly bemusement.
Fjord brushes the remnants of flower petals and moss away from Caduceus’s chest. There’s a part of his mind that says that this horticultural sex thing is this is pretty fucking weird, but he can’t bring himself to give it much mind.
Caduceus is solid beside him, warm and present. All of them are there with him, Beau and Jester and Caleb and Nott, willing to trust him in a way that makes an awed gratefulness rise in his chest. There’s an alcove of silvery sword-plants in a volcano, and there’s the smell of spring blossoms and kelp in the middle of a snowy wilderness. It doesn’t make any sense.
But Fjord wants to believe it.