Archive of Our Own

The double eclipse is still going.

He can't just sleep the remainder off, as much as he'd love to. It keeps him awake. On edge.

Instead he paces. Finds menial work and pesky little tasks to try (and fail) to fixate on. Punches a tree or bear, when his essence overflows, much to his chagrin. He doesn't like damaging the forest.

But the forest will understand. This is the way of the eclipse. Violence, unrest, bloodshed, hunger.

The outfit helps. But only so much. The unrest inside him is unbearable. Uncontrollable, despite all his efforts. Eating him from the inside out. This year's eclipse is much worse than it has been in the past, even barring the time-travel issue.

It manages to prove even more troublesome.

Quincy spots him on his 12th walk around the perimeter of his cabin, standing stock still in front of a roaring bear. The sight of him somehow here, in the forest, during the double eclipse, fills Quincy with the urge to punch something again, but he manages the mind to instead haul Yakumo away by the back of his shirt before the bear claws his face off.

The serpent is hot and trembling strongly. Quincy lets go of him as soon as they're inside, and Yakumo tumbles to the floor of the cabin in a heap.

Being around another person during the eclipse is dangerous. He had too many close calls while stuck in the past. Bringing Yakumo here, into his house, is putting them both in danger, but there's no other option.

"What are you doing in the forest," Quincy asks, his voice sounding low and growly.

He doesn't get a response.

Quincy curses. He stalks over to his dresser and tears through the drawers, cursing and throwing the clothes behind him in a vain attempt to find the spare essence regulation outfit buried within. He hears a whine sound out from behind him and looks over his shoulder to see Yakumo quickly devolving into a more serpentine form.

The longer Yakumo goes without an essence regulating outfit, the more likely he is to lose his control and attack. Quincy knows well enough what happens when he gets provoked while he's in this state. He can't let it happen. Can't risk hurting Yakumo. The little devil wouldn't forgive him. He wouldn't forgive himself.

Quincy grunts frustratedly and almost tears the dresser apart trying to find the spare. He finally manages to find the top half and figures that's all he'll be able to use anyway.

He turns around, grabs the front of Yakumo's shirt in his hand and rips it off of him. He's not bothering to ask Yakumo to try to change when he's this out of it. Yakumo's skin is bright, hot red interspersed with spreading black scales and the man is writhing so much that fastening the buckles and belts of the essence regulation outfit is enough to make Quincy want to just crush the buckles in his hands. He wrestles with them with a grim determination on his face.

Quincy hears a sob as he's finishing up and feels hands push against his torso. He steps back and finally gets a good look at Yakumo, who is crying on his cabin floor, staring at the transition from flesh to scales on his lower half in horror.

"M-Mr. Quincy…" Yakumo slurs, his long fangs interfering with the words, tears streaming out of his eyes. "W-What is happening to m-me…?"

Yakumo can't understand why he's feeling so… so…

Disheveled.

His clothes feel grating, his skin itches, his bones hurt, his gums ache. His vision is going slightly red and all the smells and sounds around him are amplified such that he feels his head could burst.

The air tastes like blood.

Yakumo is panicking—of course he is. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know how he got here, and his essence is going out of control. It's hot; it shouldn't be hot, he's cold blooded. He wants to shed his clothes desperately, he—

He wants to shed his skin.

He tries very hard, through the mess of his brain, to take stock of his surroundings. He's in a cabin. He thinks it looks familiar, even in its upturned state. He's been here before. It belongs to someone he knows.

Yakumo manages to clear the blur in his eyes enough to look over toward the other presence in the room—Quincy, it's Quincy's house. He doesn't know anyone else that tall and blond. He hears Quincy growl something that may be a question, but Yakumo is nowhere near capable enough to process it right now. He dazedly blinks a few times until his eyes can fix properly on Quincy.

Quincy is digging through his cabinets recklessly, tossing clothes on the floor left and right. His outfit is an elaborate piece in black with moon designs and belts and buckles everywhere. It's so tight. Yakumo is mesmerized by the flex of his muscles and the belts on his skin. It's so easy to imagine the belts as lines of black scales, wrapping around his body and holding him tight for Yakumo to—

He opens his mouth in a gasp and pricks his long tongue on one of his fangs in the process. The pain and taste of blood make him whine and writhe. He feels so strange. His body—something is happening to him, and distantly he knows it's not supposed to be like this, but it feels like relief. Oh, it feels right.

Quincy evidently finds whatever he was looking for and he approaches Yakumo in long, heavy strides. The closer he gets the more Yakumo feels himself tense up. The sound of Quincy's blood rushing through his veins and the taste of his essence in the air make Yakumo feel delirious. Ravenous.

Quincy is ripping Yakumo's shirt off in one swift movement as soon as he's in reach. The lack of the grating fabric against his body makes Yakumo feel a bit better, but he quickly realizes Quincy is trying to wrestle him into a different shirt and he writhes in his grip. His teeth ache. He wants to hiss.

He doesn't—why would he want to hiss? He's not some beast. He's not.

…Right?

Yakumo suddenly feels disgusted with himself at that impulse as Quincy manages to wrangle him into the top and fasten a couple of belts around him.

His confusion and distress distract him enough that he stops fighting Quincy's attempt to dress him altogether. He finds that the sensation of the new fabric and belts on his skin help to ease the frenzied and distraught state of his thoughts and impulses. He's still twitchy and oddly hot and awfully uncomfortable in his skin, but he can try to start organizing his thoughts now, at least.

His head is pounding. His gums burn as his venom glands go into overdrive. Yakumo runs his tongue around one fang and his pupils dilate at the taste of his own venom leaking from the tip. Yakumo's breathing grows shallow as all of his barely controlled instincts desperately urge him to bite and wrap something, some one, into submission. He whines at the thought in conflicting horror and arousal as his eyes well over and pour with tears.

Yakumo attempts to push off Quincy's hands and stand up in order to get some distance between them, and finds that his legs aren't moving right. It's different, but distantly familiar, almost as if…

No, no, no—

"M-Mr. Quincy..." Yakumo manages to slur tearfully through his panic as he stares down at the shiny scales of his serpentine lower half. The human words are cumbersome and difficult with his newly elongated fangs and tongue. "W-What is happening to m-me…?"

He can feel his serpents darting out and he can't stop them, he can't stop them, he can't stop himself, he's a monster—

Quincy grunts, grabbing the shadow serpent that's creeping toward him out of the air and throwing it on the floor harshly. It hisses confusedly and Yakumo jumps, startled out of his spiral at the disconnected sensation enough that the raging shadows fade away. Quincy sits down on his bed and drops his head into his hands.

"Calm—calm down," the forest guardian grits out, running a hand through his hair. "Take a deep breath."

Yakumo stares over at him through tear-filled eyes and takes a few stuttering breaths. The tip of his—his tail, thumps against the wood floorboards. Quincy sighs loudly.

"It's the double eclipse. It causes… essence fluctuations," Quincy says. His hand suddenly clenches in his hair and tugs at it. Quincy grunts—the sound lighting a shameful fire deep inside Yakumo—and repeats his question from earlier with a strained voice: "Why are you here?"

Yakumo whimpers. "I d-don't know," he manages to respond, sniffling. He doesn't know anything and it's so hard to think when Quincy is right there and all of Yakumo's blood is screaming at him to consume, to claim.

It's so, so easy to imagine.

There's so much skin on display, unmarred. It's too easy to imagine it flushed deep red, covered with his bites, patterned with the indent of scales from being wrapped by his tail. Too easy to imagine Quincy futilely trying to hold back his moans as Yakumo drives him to coming again and again until he runs dry. Too easy to imagine the tight squeeze of his slick, hot insides trying desperately to accommodate Yakumo's—

Yakumo struggles to breathe. His body burns with need and he feels blood rush to his sheath with arousal. His tail whips harder in his agitation, thumping roughly against the floor. Quincy's gaze is fixed on it and Yakumo can't begin to tell what he's thinking about.

Yakumo shakes as his emotions and fears and desires fight for control.

"M-Mr. Quincy," he breathes. His tail thrashes, gravitating towards Quincy where he sits on the bed despite Yakumo's efforts to resist it. "I don't know if it's safe… if I stay here…"

Essence floods out of Yakumo in thick waves. It's overbearing. Clearly the eclipse is affecting the serpent just as bad as Quincy, if not worse.

Yakumo's tail whacks against the floorboards with a force strong enough to shake the furniture. Quincy stares at it in thought.

A meters-long stretch of pure muscle, made to grip its prey and never let go. Quincy's encountered snakes in the jungle before, and knows well enough that escaping their grip isn't easy. A serpent of this size would be capable of taking down a bear.

He could hold Quincy. Easily.

Take away the stress of having to fight with himself at every moment.

Quincy wants to rest. Release this tension. It would be so easy like this.

He moves his stare over to Yakumo's body and spots a drip at the base of his tail. A parting in the otherwise smooth lines of scales. Something starts peeking out from inside and—Quincy remembers their last time together, the length of it, the fullness…

Snakes have two.

It's troublesome for him to want something so badly. Makes him antsy.

He grimaces as the essence in the room surges again. Quincy doesn't know if it's his or Yakumo's, at this point.

His head pounds. Denying them both any longer could lead to a much worse outcome.

The serpent knows healing magic. They'll be just fine.

Quincy catches the tip of Yakumo's tail as it whips past him. Feels it tense in his grip. Yakumo stares at him intensely.

He runs his thumb over the smooth scales and feels Yakumo shiver in his grasp.

"I'm not scared," Quincy says, trying to keep his voice low and reassuring, though it comes out more rough than he intended as his essence spikes again. He squeezes around Yakumo's tail in his grasp and continues, "I feel safe."

Yakumo's breath catches hard. "M-Mr. Quincy," He whines, his eyes welling with tears and his eyebrow twitching. His tail creeps down Quincy's hand and starts wrapping its way slowly around his wrist.

Quincy finds some odd reassurance in the pressure of it constricting around his skin, along with the rising arousal in his veins. His face goes hot and he clenches his jaw as it causes his essence to fluctuate once more.

"We both need… to release some essence," Quincy pants, staring up at Yakumo through his messy hair in an attempt to look pleading, but his expression comes out more like a grimace.

Yakumo shakes in place. "I d-don't want to hurt you," he breathes, hardly a whisper. There's a wild glint in his twitching eyes that he's still suppressing with all his might, that looks ready to take over, and Quincy just has to get him to snap. They both can't wait any longer.

He's not good with words.

Getting these clothes on and off correctly is frustrating enough when he's in sound mind; Like this, they don't stand a chance. He shakes off Yakumo's tail, lays back on the bed, and feels some of the belts and seams break as he tugs his pants down his thighs. He'll deal with the repercussions later.

Quincy digs through the sheets behind him with one hand until he finds a bottle of oil. He uncorks it with his teeth and upends the contents on his hand unceremoniously.

He reaches down and shoves a slick finger into himself without any further fanfare.

Quincy doesn't do this to himself. He doesn't tend to masturbate often in the first place, and when he's getting serviced, he prefers to just lay back and take it. His wrist hurts and in this position his own fingers can't even come in at the right angle to get anything fulfilling out of it.

He takes a breath to get accustomed and pushes a second finger in right after the first, stretches himself with a grimace and grunts in frustration and dissatisfaction. It burns, but it's not enough, it feels like it will never be enough—the volatile essence roaring through Quincy's body threatens to engulf him completely, and release feels impossible on his own. He takes his cock in his other hand to stroke it in a pitiable attempt to get some relief, but it's wholly unfulfilling when he's already got his mind set on so much more. The desire to get speared deep and hard, once Quincy's gotten the idea in his head, burns through him like a raging forest fire.

Quincy growls and grits his teeth, shoves a third finger in too soon with the knowledge that he'll never be able to take it, take both if he doesn't hurry up. He lets out a low whine as the thought drives his essence higher and he clamps his lower lip hard between his teeth. He gets so lost in focus trying in vain to hit his prostate with shaking fingers, desperate for any semblance of relief, that he doesn't notice Yakumo's approach until his trapped legs are shoved back towards his chest and Yakumo's tail wraps tightly around his wrist.

Yakumo's eyes pierce him, sharp, red-ringed gold clouded with hunger and lust. He looms above Quincy, razor-sharp fangs unconsciously bared, eyes wide. Quincy meets his gaze from under his hair without fear, coaxes a fourth finger into himself with a low grunt, and lifts his other hand from his cock to deliberately prick his thumb on one of Yakumo's fangs. Yakumo's eyelids droop slightly as his long tongue twines around the offending digit to chase the mixed flavor of blood and precome.

Quincy's prostate aches for attention, just out of his reach. He pulls his fingers out of himself and clutches at Yakumo's tail, stroking it like a cock to cover it in the remaining oil. Yakumo twitches and lets out a low, garbled noise as he watches Quincy direct the slick tip of it to his crudely-prepared hole.

"Give it to me," Quincy growls, panting.

Yakumo's breathing falters. His eyes sharpen as his body moves on its own.

The slide of his tail inside is easy; the tip is hardly the size of Quincy's pinky finger.

Several inches down, it's nearly as thick as Yakumo's cock.

The tapered width and the slick of the oil makes the resistance of Quincy's hole negligible as Yakumo drives a few inches inside of him at once.

Quincy squirms and gasps brokenly, his hand falling off from guiding Yakumo's tail to instead clutch at the sheets like a lifeline. His legs jerk under Yakumo's grip, trapped by his pants around his thighs.

Yakumo wants more. Wants to hear him scream and feel him tremble. Wants to see hearts in his eyes and drool running down his chin. Wants Quincy delirious and fucked out underneath him, full of his come and plugged up on his cocks. A beautiful, willing piece of prey, thoroughly marked and claimed.

The tip of his tail twitches at the thought, the internal motion pulling another noise from Quincy's lips.

Yakumo should be scared of the thoughts in his head. Ashamed. He knows he normally would be.

Quincy's thumb presses down and rubs his tongue in apparent encouragement. The taste of him is decadent.

Worry is, for once, far from the front of Yakumo's mind. There is a feast in front of him, served on a silver platter and dressed in black, black like Yakumo's scales. It would be a travesty to not partake.

"F-Fuck," Quincy grits out as Yakumo barrels his tail out and back in. He grinds his thumb against Yakumo's lower teeth to aggravate the wound and Yakumo takes the proffered blood with delight, studying Quincy's eyes intensely as his tail shoves in and out.

Quincy meets his gaze with tightly-drawn eyebrows and fluttering eyelids as he lets out a low groan at the continued movement. Yakumo delights in the noise and flicks his tail on a pull out, the movement causing Quincy's thumb to fall from his mouth as the tip of his tail whacks directly onto Quincy's prostate and sends him into a fit of spasms.

Yakumo chases the flavor of his skin as Quincy's arm falls limp, catching the man's wrist with a quick strike of his hand and dragging his fangs down the length of his arm and up to his shoulder.

His tight flesh succumbs beautifully to the press of Yakumo's fangs as Yakumo sinks them into his skin. Yakumo's tail burrows deeper alongside the piercing of his fangs, Quincy's hole spreading wider on the gradually increasing girth of it.

Yakumo moans in delight around the mouthful of skin as his aching venom glands finally drop the venom his body has been desperately pressuring him to inject someone with for what feels like hours now. Quincy lets out a loud choked noise and arches his back up toward Yakumo's mouth as the venom rapidly takes effect, setting his nerves alight.

Quincy's hole pulses around his tail with the frantic beat of his heart, the heart that pumps the blood that Yakumo nurses on now, hot and essence-rich on his tongue. He retracts his fangs at the same time he withdraws his tail, pushing back inside as he sucks hard and lathes his tongue over the new wound.

Quincy's wheezing breaths ring loud right into Yakumo's ears. His muscles tense and untense in shuddering waves along with every push of Yakumo's tail. Yakumo draws his head back slightly, dragging his tongue against the weeping imprint of his bite and glancing at Quincy's face to take in his expression.

"Hhgh…" Quincy groans, the noise rough and drawn out, his head lulling back against the sheets as if his neck can't hold it up anymore. His mouth falls open to make way for desperate, heaving breaths, his lips bitten to bruising. His eyes are clouded and his pupils dilated, almost as if he's drunk off of the overflowing essence between them, amplified tenfold by the rush of Yakumo's venom in his veins.

Quincy grits his teeth and furrows his brow, managing to clear the blur in his eyes enough to meet Yakumo's gaze. Another short moan falls from his lips as the eye contact spurs Yakumo into pushing the forked tip of his tongue into the hole left by one of his fangs, aggravating the wound.

"Make me come," Quincy rasps. A demand—or perhaps, a plea.

Yakumo's next breath comes out as a hiss.

He buries himself deep and begins to lightly thrash the tip of his tail, battering against Quincy's walls from all sides. Quincy chokes on a moan as his mouth falls open and his head falls back.

Quincy is still tight around his tail, far too tight. Yakumo pushes Quincy's bound legs up flush against his chest to better access his ass and thrashes harder, the side of his tail knocking against Quincy's prostate repeatedly, the tip coaxing him open up where he's burrowed many inches deep into Quincy's insides.

Quincy gasps for air, each breath pushed out of his lungs as soon as it enters by the continuing barrage on his insides. Whimpers fall past his lips with every exhale and his body starts to shake. Suddenly, he tenses harshly, his fingers digging harder into the sheets until the fabric visibly strains in his grasp, then suddenly he falls utterly limp with a choked noise.

Sandwiched between his legs and torso, Quincy's cock erupts, splattering all the way up his chest and over his chin. The heavy release of essence into the air alongside his orgasm makes Yakumo's head spin. His tongue flicks out to taste the air, but the faint taste he receives is unacceptable when the source is right there.

Yakumo drops his head to lick up the farthest drops of spend from his neck and chin, the essence-rich and salty flavor a delight on his tongue. He absentmindedly undulates his tail as he dips his head to gather the rest, twining his tongue around the buckles and over the black fabric. Quincy lets out a pliant, breathy grunt as Yakumo wrenches his bound legs to the side in order to lick up the last of it, smeared all over his abs amidst an absolute pool of precome and dripping from his still-erect cock.

The sharp intake of essence drives Yakumo's mind into a flurry of desire, sending his blood rushing to his already-aching sheath in a powerful wave that increases the pressure of his contained hemipenes to an unbearable level. Finally, completely unassisted, Yakumo's sheath gives way to his monstrous hemipenes pushing into the air, everting fully in seconds. Yakumo jerks forward and cries out at the sensation, dropping his forehead onto Quincy's abdomen as his newly exposed cocks twitch and weep in the cool air.

Yakumo bares his fangs in a hiss as the momentary blur in his vision clears. Quincy pants heavily and clenches around Yakumo's tail as Yakumo drags his fangs over his stomach and looks up at him.

Yakumo keeps his gaze as his tail pulls out. Quincy winces slightly, letting out a faint noise at the loss and drawing his eyebrows tight. The shade of crimson on his face is indecent.

The slick tip of Yakumo's tail circles around the slight gape of Quincy's hole a couple of times, then pushes through his bound thighs to wrap around the fabric of his pants and tear them asunder. Quincy moans faintly as his legs fall apart, released from their uncomfortable cloth prison. Yakumo pushes his pliant thighs apart and stares hungrily at the exposed feast below him, the tip of his tail winding around Quincy's balls and squeezing them, drawing a grunt from the man.

"I'll empty you of all sseed but mine," Yakumo hisses.

Quincy burns and aches. Every word, every breath, every touch, every thought engulfs him further in the flames, and the desperation inside him grows with every second.

It's unbearable. The orgasm and contact are almost like torture, not enough, never enough, a drop in the bucket compared to the seemingly endless need that's devouring him.

Yakumo rises until he looms over Quincy, effortlessly supported by his substantial tail, posed to strike again at any moment. Quincy's eyes finally settle again down at the crux of Yakumo's tail, just under where scales turn to skin.

He needs it. Needs to release this essence, needs to get out of his head. Needs to get it all fucked out of him until the feeling of unending, burning tension from this cursed double eclipse blissfully leaves his body, eclipsed by the all-encompassing sensation of being speared deep and hard and pumped full enough that there's no more room for anything else.

Yakumo's cocks are inhumanly long, decently thick, and blunt at the tip. Soaking wet, and constantly leaking more. So heavy that they droop down towards the ground despite how hard they are. Near the base, up until a little under halfway, they're lined with dull little spurs. Just one of his cocks, let alone both, looks as though it could truly ruin him.

The pulse of blood is loud in Quincy's ears. His hole clenches around nothing, achingly empty. His cock weeps against his stomach. Quincy raises his gaze, and Yakumo's eyes burn into his own, unblinking and intense.

"Wring me dry," Quincy rasps. His voice sounds hoarse and almost whiny even to his own ears. Yakumo gradually lowers himself closer until his head hovers inches above Quincy's, close enough that the ends of his hair brush Quincy's face. His hands brace on Quincy's torso as their bodies grow closer, sharpened nails digging into mesh-covered skin as their hips finally make proper contact. Quincy feels Yakumo's cocks slide against his ass, lukewarm and slippery, and the need consuming him sends tremors down his body as his hole twitches pitifully.

"Ah… I'm your prey," Quincy goads, unashamed in his desperation. "Take me."

"My prey…" Yakumo hisses, his eyes flashing in response to Quincy's unabashed submission. Yakumo's tail wraps once around Quincy's left thigh to hold it up, then slithers down to squeeze the tip of one of Yakumo's hemipenes and direct it to the eagerly awaiting hole. Yakumo's hiss transforms into a rumbling groan, heavy and low in his chest, as his fluttering eyes burn into Quincy's own.

"My mate."

The combination of the words and the pressure of the head finally breaching inside is enough for Quincy to feel as if his breath has been knocked out of his chest. Nearly flat at the tip, pushing him open all at once, and thick enough that it would normally burn, even with the intense prep, if Quincy wasn't under the effects of Yakumo's venom.

His hips twitch and jerk and his back arches involuntarily as Yakumo pushes deeper, driving into him against the resistance in a steady, forceful press that leaves Yakumo baring his fangs and Quincy choking on his labored breaths from the tightness. The flat tip slightly catches on his prostate as it bores deeper, causing Quincy to grunt loudly and clench his teeth tight as Yakumo suddenly grinds forward more insistently. His clenched teeth do little to stop the moan pushed out of his mouth a second later as Yakumo's cock suddenly slides forward past his prostate and sends a jolt down his body.

Yakumo's neglected hemipenis smears a wet line of seminal fluid into the sensitive crook of Quincy's thigh as the other one pushes deeper into him. His cocks gush seemingly constantly, both from the tips and from the base, milky white liquid staining Quincy's skin and pouring inside him to wet the way. The sheer amount of essence absorbing into Quincy's system already from the abundant precome wetting his insides is dizzying. The thought of what it will be like when Yakumo actually comes inside him while they're in this state has Quincy clenching down like a vice.

Yakumo lets out a combination of a hiss and a whine in response, his nails digging into Quincy's waist and his head dropping forward. Quincy's head lolls to the side as Yakumo mouths at his jaw and drags his fangs over his neck. Yakumo's tail constricts around his thigh as Yakumo grinds his hips forward in short jerks, trying to plow the last few inches inside against the haltingly tight grip.

"T-Too tight," Yakumo whines faintly, the sound rumbling against Quincy's neck. The spurs near the base of his cock tease Quincy's rim with every grind, causing Quincy to tense and spasm again and again. Yakumo's serpentine tongue draws along the underside of Quincy's jaw as his fangs extend and tease the skin of his throat.

Quincy groans and winces as his thigh is suddenly manhandled up into the air, Yakumo's tail lifting him partially onto his side. The sudden movement of the huge cock inside him is distracting enough that the sensation of Yakumo's tail working around his thigh and sliding to wrap his waist barely registers until it constricts around his midsection.

"I'll get you to open up," Yakumo murmurs, words slurred and low. He leans back, his fangs drawing scratches down Quincy's neck and his hands running down Quincy's hips as he withdraws. Quincy stares up at him expectantly, panting, and grunts as the tail constricting around him tightens its grip considerably. Yakumo drops a hand to pull Quincy's ass apart and readjusts his hips in preparation.

"Hghh—AH!"

Quincy's eyes roll back and his vision goes solid white as Yakumo's tail bodily hauls him down as far as possible onto the first hemipenis. His body sings at the intoxicating sensation of overwhelming fullness, speared so deep up into his guts that Quincy can feel the phantom of it in his throat. His cock, having burst again during his whiteout, lets out another small spurt of come against the black scales of Yakumo's tail as the spurs now buried inside him massage his prostate and rim simultaneously.

Yakumo rumbles in satisfaction and pleasure at the sight and feeling of Quincy falling apart beneath him. His tail slithers around until the tip is free and draws a line down Quincy's still-twitching cock to grasp both it and his own unburied hemipenis, rubbing them together with the overabundance of their combined fluids.

The working coil of tail around his waist adds a massaging external pressure to the already indescribable feeling of the cock curving through Quincy's insides. That, combined with the sensation of Yakumo's inhuman length sliding lewdly against his own, the spurs teasing his balls and the tip drooling sticky fluid between them, makes the pleasure almost unbearable. The white-knuckled grip of his hand on the sheets does little to ground Quincy from the unearthly sensations wracking his body and melting his brain.

"F-Fuck me," Quincy rasps, hardly louder than a whisper, his voice poisoned by pleasure. Yakumo starts rocking his hips back and forth, the action popping several spurs in and out of Quincy's rim repeatedly, and Quincy's eyes cloud over with pink. "Please," he moans, his voice breaking.

Yakumo's tail is more than strong enough to fully manhandle Quincy however he pleases. He sets off into a pace of tugging Quincy up and down onto his hemipenis without warning, drawing him back until just past the head is buried before pushing him back down to the base. The wetness of their connection is obscene, Yakumo's sheath wetting Quincy's ass with every contact of their hips, the noise echoing through the cabin loudly.

Quincy is long gone. His mouth stays open with the volley of sounds forced from his throat, interrupting his wheezing breaths, and drool falls from his lips in long drops. His eyes struggle to remain focused as each thrust sawing his body pushes the thoughts from his head. Every movement of Yakumo's cocks inside and against him comes with unyielding pleasure, driving him to the edge of orgasm once again in mere minutes since the last.

Yakumo's hemipenis pulses strongly inside Quincy, gushing fluid even more copiously as he nears his first climax in preparation for the incoming flood. The excess fluid that hasn't been shoved deep inside and held there by the flat tip of Yakumo's cock drips from Quincy's stuffed hole, soaking the sheets below.

Quincy groans as Yakumo's tail constricts tighter and tugs him down harder. The pressure around his waist limits the deepness of Quincy's breaths, turning his panting shallow and desperate and making him lightheaded. Yakumo lets out an animalistic noise and drops his head forward as his tail pulls Quincy down firmly, pulling their hips flush together with a harsh slap, and the gush of come that floods inside Quincy with nowhere to go but deeper has Quincy letting out a reedy whine as everything falls apart.

The combined restriction of breathing, ungodly fullness, and sharp intake of essence leaves Quincy's body feeling like a livewire. He comes hard enough, despite the two world-shattering orgasms he's already had, that his brain goes static for nearly a minute. He can barely register the feeling of Yakumo's tail adjusting and hauling his body around once more until the still-hard cock inside him attempts to recede from his hole.

"Nghh, agh—again," Quincy groans desperately, feeling nearly delirious with the need to not be empty again. He lifts his arms with difficulty to clutch at the belts of Yakumo's top and weakly clenches down around the remaining length inside him as Yakumo's tail lifts him fully off the sheets and into the air.

Despite Quincy's protest and with only a faint, soothing trill from Yakumo in response, Quincy is tugged up and off of Yakumo's cock with a lewd pop from the flat tip leaving his rim. A slow but steady drip of come flows out following its removal, gravity drawing a trail of it out from deep inside. The bereft noise that leaves Quincy's lips turns into a weak, muffled groan as Yakumo dives to capture his mouth with vigor.

The bitter, acidic taste of Yakumo's leaking venom sends a tingling sensation through Quincy's mouth as Yakumo's long tongue dives to conquer. The effects of the venom and heady feeling of the forked tip stroking the roof of his mouth and teasing the entrance to his throat leaves Quincy uncharacteristically struggling to reciprocate, his mind and body going hazy with pleasure. He settles to just suckle on Yakumo's tongue rather than even attempt to fight it with his own; an act of encouraging submission, an invitation to be devoured.

Yakumo takes his submission with great pleasure. The exploratory sweeps of his tongue turn into the push of it down Quincy's throat as he lowers Quincy's dripping hole down onto the eager tip of his other hemipenis. Quincy's throat vibrates with the strength of his suppressed groan at the contact, his fucked-open rim accepting the blunt tip gratefully as he sucks down on Yakumo's tongue.

Yakumo withdraws his mouth languidly as he sinks Quincy further down his cock, emptying one end as the other is filled again. Yakumo's tail slackens its grasp in order to let Quincy be pulled down by the force of gravity alone, and the weight of Quincy's body combined with the slick mess of Yakumo's fluids wetting his insides cause Quincy to sink down on the remaining length very fast, an easy slide deep where the other hemipenis has already plunged into so enthusiastically. The spurs only take a bit of coaxing, one of Yakumo's hands coming around to grip Quincy's ass and tug Quincy's rim that much more open, just enough for them to pop past and massage inside as Quincy fully sinks to the base.

Quincy clutches at Yakumo's top during the entire process of sinking down onto his other cock, his entire body feeling weak and pliant. Like this—restrained by Yakumo's tail, moved around however Yakumo pleases, filled until he can't think straight—Quincy feels less tense than he has at any point since this extended eclipse started.

"Sso beautiful," Yakumo whispers into Quincy's ear, drawing him out of his thoughts and lifting a hand up to stroke over Quincy's. "Flushed red with blood and filled by my cockss." His fingers trace the outline of Quincy's gemstone, and Quincy moans and clenches down around him in response.

Yakumo pulls his right hand up to his mouth and drags his fangs over the palm. He draws his tongue up into the crook of Quincy's thumb, wetting the skin as his humid breath washes over Quincy's gem and the back of his hand. The attention on the hypersensitive, essence-filled skin surrounding his gemstone leaves Quincy feeling twitchy and electrified.

A moment later, Yakumo bites. His fangs sink into the meat of Quincy's hand, right next to his gem.

The jolt that arcs through Quincy's body is devastating.

However much longer the eclipse lasts, Quincy's fate is tied to being mated and devoured by a great serpent.

He wouldn't feel safer anywhere else.

Yakumo's first thought, upon gaining a glimpse of sanity in the chaos and finally being able to tamp down the serpent instincts screaming at him for enough time to make some sense of his surroundings, is that his entire body aches.

His second is, Oh my god.

He lets out a hoarse whine and unwinds his tail from where it's suspending Quincy's body, dropping him gently down onto the sheets below. The hemipenis having its turn inside slides out from Quincy's sloppy hole at the movement, and Quincy moans at the loss as Yakumo whimpers.

Yakumo stares in disbelief at the utter mess of a man below him. The imprint of scales and beginnings of bruises line his waist and thighs; blood weeps from bite marks on his hand, arms, and shoulders; his angry, dark red cock sits heavy on his distended stomach, and his hole gapes, come spilling onto the sheets below. Yakumo struggles to breathe as the debauched sight burns into his retinas.

You did this, Yakumo's deeper thoughts provide, but not with the shame and horror he expects. He leans down and hovers his hands over Quincy's body, almost afraid to touch.

"Not enough," Quincy groans below him, voice gravelly. Yakumo startles back slightly as Quincy laboredly draws himself onto his elbows.

Yakumo trembles and lets out a surprised moan as Quincy's shaky hand stretches to grab both of his hemipenes and squeezes the tips together. Yakumo shakes and chokes on his breath as Quincy directs the pair to his rim.

"Please," Quincy breathes, and Yakumo takes in the sight of him once more as his instincts surge to take over again.

Yakumo pushes his hips forward slightly so that the tips actually make contact and start to breach. Faint hearts remain glazed over Quincy's eyes, pink edging into the blood orange hue of his irises. Yakumo delights in having been able to see it while somewhat unclouded by instinct.

Fuck, his serpent urges.

Even after being fucked open so wide, Quincy's rim still has to stretch more to fit around the mass of both of Yakumo's hemipenes. The squeeze of it around the heads of his cocks is choking, and the feeling of them being compressed against each other, stretching Quincy to his absolute limits, is indescribable.

Fill.

Quincy's whole body trembles as Yakumo sinks his cocks deeper. Yakumo, similarly, feels himself twitch like a tightly drawn spring. The spurs on his hemipenes catch on and rub against each other as more of the length is squeezed together, sending shocks down Yakumo's spine.

The drive of his hemipenes deeper and deeper forces the excess of come back into place, holding it far inside with no chance of escape. Seeing the noticeable swell in Quincy's stomach, knowing he's stuffed with Yakumo's come, fills Yakumo with a burning, deep-seated desire to fill him more. How much could he take? How would Quincy look, were he to somehow carry a clutch of eggs for Yakumo?

Breed, his serpent demands.

Quincy whimpers, his cock and balls weakly twitching with each row of spurs pushing past his overworked rim as Yakumo firmly presses forward closer to bottoming out. The curve of Quincy's far insides, with some gentle coaxing, accepts Yakumo's cocks without struggle. So pliant and eager for him.

The lax, far-away, almost blissed out expression that adorns Quincy's face as their hips make contact sends an overwhelming sense of satisfaction through Yakumo.

Yakumo, overtaken by sensation and sight and unstable essence, succumbs to his serpent side again.

The relief when the double eclipse finally wanes is tangible.

Quincy groans and, as if he were a puppet with the strings cut, promptly falls into a heavy sleep.

Yakumo is left dazed in the aftermath, stuck in a hazy state of half-consciousness as exhaustion likewise overwhelms him. Luckily, he isn't in his right mind enough to have to actually suffer through his bones quickly rearranging themselves as he suddenly transforms back.

His half-asleep body runs on autopilot through a semblance of the steps of aftercare, pouring what essence he has into healing Quincy's abused body and brushing the scraps of ripped clothes off the bed and into a pile on the floor so that he can drag a comforter over the both of them and wrap his limbs haphazardly around Quincy to absorb his warmth.

Yakumo actually comes to an unknown amount of time later, sitting up in bed in a panic as the events of the past… indeterminate amount of hours come flooding back, feeling hazy and dream-like. He then yelps and folds over as his aching body screams at him for moving.

He glances to his side and sees Quincy sleeping soundly, looking unharmed. A peek under the sheets reveals his elaborately dressed upper half and his naked lower half, which has Yakumo dropping the comforter quickly as his face burns.

His own body is dressed similarly, covered in belts up top and naked below. Yakumo squeezes his thighs together as if to cover himself, despite being already under the sheets.

Okay, so what if they had sex? That's fine. Maybe it was just normal sex, and Yakumo's shameful, tainted, animalistic mind just conjured all those images of the tail wrapping around Quincy and the hemipenes and the swell of Quincy's stomach and the thoughts of, of… breeding. Yakumo's ears burn incessantly at the thought, but… it wouldn't be the first time he's fantasized about such things.

Having desires and fantasies is natural, right? Sex is natural. Eiden tells him that all the time.

Oh my god, EIDEN.

Where is Eiden? He—That's the entire reason Yakumo came to the forest, Eiden was taking longer to come back than he said he would and Yakumo got worried and then he got lost in the forest and he didn't even remember he was looking for Eiden.

Yakumo scrambles out of bed with shaky legs and teary eyes, searching for his pants in a panic, and he finds them in tatters in a pile beside the bed. Fine, that's fine, he can fix them later, it doesn't matter. There's—on the floor by the dresser, there's a bed sheet that Yakumo grabs and ties around his waist. Yakumo nearly trips over the length of the sheet several times on his way to the door, and when he finally reaches it, he's surprised by a force from outside opening the door before he can.

"—treats the entire forest like his bedroom, hm, young master? Surely barging into his house is hardly such a crime."

"That's just not cool," Yakumo hears, catching the tail end of a conversation as the door brushes past him to reveal Eiden, Kuya, and Topper standing on the other side, backlit by blending bicolored moonlight. Topper bounds inside lightning fast towards the bed.

Eiden's expression turns from lighthearted annoyance at Kuya to genuine surprise and worry when he sees Yakumo.

"Y-Yakumo?" He intones.

Relief floods Yakumo at the sight of him. The worry leaves his body with a heaving sob. Eiden startledly jumps to support him.

"M-Mr. Eiden," he breathes, pulling Eiden close. "You're okay."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Eiden reassures, as if his health isn't something to worry about. He continues, curious man that he is, asking: "Yakumo, how did you get here? Why are you dressed like that? What happened?"

Yakumo just weeps and holds him tighter.

Eiden backtracks, "N-Not that I'm not happy to see you, of course! I just didn't expect it! This eclipse has been so crazy, I'll tell you all about it when it's all over!" He rambles, patting Yakumo's back, unsure of what to do. Kuya tsks to his side.

"My, you're in a sorry state, aren't you?" Kuya asks, seemingly not directed at anyone in specific, confusingly. Yakumo glances at him and sees his nose twitching and his lip raised in a slight sneer.

Eiden side-eyes Kuya.

"He was lost. I brought him in here. Safer that way," Quincy says from across the room, muffled by the sheets, not moving from bed despite Topper pushing at him.

Yakumo pushes back from embracing Eiden, wipes his face, and nods.

"Ah, so you guys waited out the tail end of the eclipse in here? Good thinking, Quincy!" Eiden says.

Kuya hums. "Oh, and I suppose you both just slept the whole time, hm?" Kuya asks sarcastically, and Yakumo shrinks in on himself. Eiden clears his throat.

"I think we should focus on tidying up before we elect to share the tales of our adventures. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm starving, and I think Topper is too," Eiden suggests. Topper squeaks loudly in agreement in between headbutting Quincy. "There's still a bit of time before the full eclipse, so if we hurry we can get the food ready for when it happens!"

Yakumo brightens at the mention of cooking. Quincy finally rolls over and starts to get up from bed, seemingly not caring about his total nudity, but—gratefully—pauses from tossing the sheets off as Yakumo startles towards him in a panic.

"Ah, our clothes—" Yakumo exclaims, trailing off in embarrassment. Kuya huffs as Yakumo rushes over to the bed.

"What about your clothes?" Kuya prompts. Yakumo reaches the pile of cloth at the side of the bed, and finds them… perfectly intact. He lifts his pants from the messy pile confusedly.

"Is it that they're ugly?" Kuya teases, sounding slightly winded, like he's used more essence than he should have, and realization clicks in Yakumo's mind. He sighs quietly and clutches his pants tighter.

Mr. Kuya is too nice.

Yakumo and Quincy get dressed, then the four of them settle to have a fireside dinner as the moons near total eclipse, sharing stories and enjoying the peace. Yakumo and Quincy do the cooking together, making and roasting skewers and baking the sweet treats Quincy had prepared previously. Eiden does most of the talking, more than happy to share the story of their adventure to Yakumo and tell tales from his world to all of them. Neither Yakumo nor Quincy choose to go into detail about their time in the cabin, but Eiden seems content not to push. Yakumo does notice a few glances from Kuya, however.

The sight is beautiful, the food is delightful, and the company is lovely. As the four of them spend the remainder of the night content and warm by the fire, a thought runs through each of their minds…

Is it really okay to fantasize about such things? And so… vividly… What if it wasn't really in my head? Yakumo worries idly, but is soothed from his anxiety by Eiden's presence beside him.

Do I have to wait until the next eclipse to get fucked like that again? Quincy wonders, glancing at Yakumo. He sighs, brushing off Topper as the stoat yanks his hair in reprimand.

I'd sooner burn this whole forest to the ground than miss the next time the serpent goes into a rut, Kuya seethes silently. He narrows his eyes at Eiden, who glances back at him wearily. The young master will have to pay for making me miss the first time.

Why do I feel like something Really important happened and I'm the only one who doesn't know about it?! Eiden complains internally, exasperated by his strange, strange clan members.