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Nidhogg still works to become used to his new body. As much as he would prefer to have this never be a problem he deals with, that the aether still within his eyes reformed a body for him but only had the elezen whose body he claimed once be a template. The energy only for something small and broken, and a little piece of that very man’s soul embedded like a splinter in Nidhogg’s own conscience.
He would rather this never be his existence, but Nidhogg has too much pride to let himself disappear. He still hates Ishgardians and all of their ilk. He still does, and yet… Nidhogg blames it on whatever piece of the Dragoon festered its way into him, and the aftereffects of ‘death’. He hates them slightly less. Mostly, he is just tired. Cut off from knowing the ways of his brood or commanding any of his kin, Nidhogg trudges alone back into survival.
Well. ‘Alone’ is somewhat incorrect. One of Ishgard’s noble knights found him in Dragonspit, once, and now simply doesn’t leave him alone. Haurchefant is sitting in one of the chairs pulled before the fire when Nidhogg trudges from the snowstorm into the isolated cabin that this very elezen arranged for him. Ostensibly abandoned outpost, now a living space for Ishgard’s greatest enemy, far enough out of the way and unknown enough that no one will wander in and Nidhogg will not feel too much the burning ire of being close to man.
“I didn’t expect you to be out this late,” Haurchefant says with a smile, standing to greet the inhuman form looming in the doorway. “I took the liberty of stoking the fire and bringing supplies. What were you up to, dear friend?”
Of course he did. His insistence upon taking care of Nidhogg is mystifying to this day, no matter how long it’s been. It’s also stupid. And Nidhogg doesn’t appreciate it. The fire is comfortable, warmer probably than Haurchefant would have his quarters, but it makes Nidhogg feel as if his scales and armour sit less rigid upon this body. “I am neither thy dear nor thy friend, knight,” Nidhogg grumbles, filling in a script.
He walks over and collapses in the chair Haurchefant had not claimed, leaning back. He barely fits within it, a good two feet taller than the tallest elezen as he is and with the bulk of reddened armour upon him. His wings that grow improperly from a dragoon’s body stretch thin down to the ground, spread to soak heat from the fireplace. Nidhogg’s eyes are closed, but he hears Haurchefant step to stand alongside him. The knight’s hand raises to brush fingers over his cheek, following the ridge of scales that gather loosely along the back of Nidhogg’s jaw.
Gently, Haruchefant removes the helm from Nidhogg. He’s greeted with the dragon opening his eyes and fixing Haurchefant with a red stare. Nidhogg’s expression doesn’t change, but Haurchefant’s softens and he leans to kiss Nidhogg’s temple. “It was much easier to reach your home this time, without the ogres.”
“Mm. They make acceptable fodder for becoming used to this form.” He fights them daily, though their numbers have been thinning precipitously. Understandably. Nidhogg still resents the sharp deline in his magical ability, but he can manipulate this strange small body to his goals now.
And if it aids Haurchefant, well. Who cares about that. Nidhogg finds his arm sliding over Haurchefant’s waist and pulling him closer. The other takes the invitation and then some, sitting impertinently upon Nidhogg’s lap and leaning into him.
Fool. He is no consort of the great wyrm. He is no replacement for any of those much greater beings who Nidhogg had loved. He is, after all, a knight and of such a smaller species. Haurchefant threads his fingers through Nidhogg’s hair, unsticking strands of sweat and tucking them behind his ear. “You must have been patrolling for a while. Let me wash you.”
‘A while’. Dragons exist without time, and Nidhogg still has a terrible sense of it, even though this body has its demands of the flesh. Food, sleep… cyclical things he still can’t get a grasp on their ‘when’s. “I do not need thy help. Let me stand.”
“I wish to give it.” Haurchefant says. There’s a smile audible in his voice, as he knows he doesn’t need any further argument to get his way. He slips off of Nidhogg’s lap, and Nidhogg does not miss the loss of his presence. He flexes his hand, now empty of Haurchefant’s hips, and thinks no further of it.
Ah, it’s simply this body that gives him such weakness. With a clicking of armour, Nidhogg stands. He dislikes having to remove his own armour, though much of it has become a magical construct similar to scales. The spikes retract to smooth surfaces at his will, pieces fall unclasped to be slipped off with a thought. He discards much of the ensemble, that which can be removed, aside from the shirt and pants that pad beneath. Haurchefant is still on his task in the other room. Nidhogg smells water. First, though, Haurchefant did say he brought supplies, which means….
Haurchefant returns to Nidhogg standing before the packs of food he’d brought, making short work of grilled aldgoat. “Good job.” He leans against Nidhogg again and feels the other shift to accommodate him.
“Patronize me not.” It’s not undeserved. Nidhogg took a very long time to figure out hunger signals. It’s embarrassing. His tail winds around Haurchefant’s leg.
“Hehe. There’s water drawn when you’re done.”
“Thou shalt accompany me.” It’s a question phrased as a statement, hoping he’ll get the answer he wants.
“Of course, dear.” Haurchefant’s audibly proud of himself for having favour. He’s a troublesome fellow. Nidhogg’s tail tightens around Haurchefant, anyways, and he drags the other off with a tug to make him stumble a bit. Just to keep Haurchefant humble, though it doesn’t and wouldn’t work.
Troublesome. Haurchefant lets Nidhogg disrobe him when they enter the small annex of the bathroom. He’s not in all his armour, only simple garb, which Nidhogg has the hang of removing now. The room is full of steam that leaves a sheen on Haurchefant’s skin. Nidhogg draws thin lines in it with the tip of his claws to watch Haurchefant’s muscles shudder beneath. Haurchefant steps close, just a hair’s breadth from Nidhogg. Far be it from anyone to call Haurchefant small, but he is compared to Nidhogg, and when he gazes over Nidhogg’s bare form he does so with wide eyes and a faint flush to his features, though the latter could be attributed to the environment. “‘Tis not the first time thou hath beheld me, Haurchefant.” Nidhogg says.
Haurchefant inhales sharply at the use of his name instead of a more dismissive moniker. It feels far more intimate than one would imagine in any other situations. “And yet I nonetheless find myself entranced every time.” He reaches and takes Nidhogg’s forearm in his hands. “Let me take care of you.”
Haurchefant guides Nidhogg into the large wooden basin that makes up the bath. The heat of it makes Nidhogg relax immediately, though he’s loathe to compare himself to some base lizard. Haurchefant does not immediately join him. Nidhogg gives him a handful of seconds to do so, though instead he simply attempts to kneel aside the tub. Unacceptable. Nidhogg sits up and tugs Haurchefant to enter the water as well. It’s inelegant and sends a bit of water sloshing, but ends with Haurchefant sitting astride Nidhogg’s lower stomach. “I meant to—”
“This will suffice for taking care of me. Do as thou wilt from here.”
He knows Haurchefant well enough. Nidhogg leans back and watches him from half-lidded eyes. Haurchefant is endlessly fascinated by Nidhogg’s anatomy. It’s strange, as he finds man generally weak-looking and assumes the normal Ishgardian should find draconic features repellent, but here sits Haurchefant. His gaze casts over Nidhogg’s upper body, from the scars that were copied by aether misremembering marks on the Dargoon’s form and Nidhogg’s original body alike to the scales that grow upon him, around his back and starting to curl over his breast from the side. Haurchefant’s hands follow his gaze. He strokes over the scales and the spots where they meet skin carefully, brushing any spot where the dirtiness of battle may be stuck.
Nidhogg watches him. Haurchefant’s fixated attention makes him feel… warm, somehow. A faint curl of possessiveness. He does not know if Haurchefant looks at anyone else this way, and does not wish to know, as if it provoked his ire to learn Nidhogg would be unsure what he’s supposed to do. Haurchefant too has scars adorning his pale skin, but more notable are the marks of Nidhogg’s possession. Bite marks both old and new scatter his skin, though the most recent ones are still a bit faded. It’s been too long. Nidhogg’s tail flicks beneath the water in irritation— what if someone else should see Haurchefant’s skin and not know to whom the knight belongs?
None should see Haurchefant at all, with the petty squabbles of men who knows what dangers Haurchefant may find himself in. But Nidhogg cannot isolate him (he tried), so he must at least ensure none can have the Haurchefant he has. Marks that make it awkward to show his skin to others, should he have that sense of propriety, and that if he doesn’t they declare he is possessed.
His hand is on Haurchefant’s hip again, and the knight’s touch has smoothed lower. Nidhogg pushes on the small of Haurchefant’s back while pulling himself up. There’s no verbal warning given before his sharp teeth sink into the skin of Haurchefant’s collar. “Ah– oh.” A sound of surprise at the first prick of teeth, then acceptance as he sinks into it.
How could Haurchefant possibly have expected anything else? Assuredly he came here wanting this, or he would not have been so eager to display himself. Haurchefant’s breath takes on a shaky quality. “Will you give me more, love? I worry if I should become too barren of your signatures.”
Incorrigible. Nidhogg draws his teeth from Haurchefant’s skin and laves his tongue over the wound. Whatever blood wells up is swallowed. “Needy,” he chides.
“Yes,” Haurchefant agrees. He settles with his arms around Nidhogg’s shoulders, sitting in the dragon’s lap. “But you’ll oblige me, won’t you?”
In lieu of answer, Nidhogg kisses him. His tongue presses into Haruchefant’s mouth, claiming space for himself. Haurchefant moans at the taste of his own blood and goes pliant, sucking on Nidhogg’s tongue and letting him do whatever he wishes.
What he wishes is to keep Haurchefant from breathing until the last second. Long draconic tongue forces its way to the back of Haurchefant’s throat and Nidhogg feels the knight swallow and flutter against his organ. He draws back only when he must and Haurchefant breathes hard, still giving Nidhogg his stupid affectionate grin. “What am I to you, love?”
He isn’t a consort. He isn’t loved. He cannot be those two things, because Haurchefant is a knight of Ishgard, he is a man, and Nidhogg is a dragon. Haurchefant leans back, exposing his chest in an arc of spine, and Nidhogg follows him. “Thou art my belonging.” He bites Haurchefant’s breast.
“I’m yours?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Ah, Nidhogg, bite me harder.” None of them have scarred yet. Haurchefant kind of wants them too. Nidhogg’s fangs sink even deeper into the skin of his side and Haurchefant moans loudly.
He’s glad for the isolation of this cabin. He’s never been able to keep quiet. “ Yes . Another, I want— when I return, I want to feel them where I touch. I want to wear your mantle.” Nidhogg draws his legs up to force Haurchefant to lean back against them, revealing more of himself to Nidhogg’s attentions. The skin invites attention and so Nidhogg gives it, nips and licking more frequent than the proper bites that make Haurchefant moan. Thin trails of blood from a few bites drip into the water. Haurchefant’s hands are on the back of Nidhogg’s head, pulling him close as he can to Haurchefant’s skin.
Nidhogg pushes the elezen up so he can sink his teeth into Haruchefant’s thigh. The bite marks cluster here, around the meat of his thighs, with the other cluster being around his neck and spine. Haurchefant moans for him. It’s impossible to miss Haurchefant’s cock, hard and flushed, so close to him.
He didn’t experience sexuality as a dragon. Human reproduction and arousal was something utterly alien to him, though Haurchefant taught him that this humanoid body he’s in can very much and very strongly feel such a thing. He pretends he doesn’t see Haurchefant’s obvious arousal, instead licking at the bite wound he’s just created. “Nidhogg. Nidhogg, love, can I have your favour tonight? Please, look at what you’ve done to me.” Haurchefant is on display for him, propping himself up just enough to look at Nidhogg with gaze heavy in arousal.
Nidhogg likes him this way. The tugging heat in how lower body affirms as much. He ducks his head briefly, enough to swipe his tongue over the tip of Haurchefant’s cock. The salty taste fo precome that he quickly swallows down. It’s only a moment where Haurchefant can think that he’ll have Nidhogg swallow him before Nidhogg moves his legs to deprive Haurchefant of his position out of the water, sending him slipping back down into the bathwater. “Prepare thyself,” Nidhogg says back.
Haurchefant’s eyes go wide with excitement. “Yes, of course.” He spreads his legs wider around Nidhogg’s body, slumping down. One of Nidhogg’s hands goes to Haurchefant’s ass, spreading the flesh there and leaving an indent of Claw. Those he cannot retract particularly well and so Haurchefant must prepare himself. The water should aid him somewhat. Nidhogg feels the shifting of current as Haurchefant presses fingers inside of himself and begins the work. “Go slowly,” Nidhogg says with a growl, leaning down.
He rarely does. Haurchefant is too eager and feels discomfort as an encouragement. He must be ordered if he’s to be responsible and take his time. Haurchefant whines in response so, before he can complain, Nidhogg kisses him again.
Haurchefant’s legs tighten around Nidhogg’s waist. He always tries to ensure that Nidhogg’s scales dig into his flesh, apparently enraptured by the inhumanity of him. (At some time, when Nidhogg is able to transform his body into something more monstrous, he looks forward to showing Haurchefant). Nidhogg kisses him, his free hand wandering Haurchefant’s flesh, pressing into bruises and bites to make them sting. Every time he can feel Haurchefant twitch and moan next to him, either form their profound closeness or from the water amplifying the sense of every movement.
Occasionally, deprived of breath, Nidhogg feels Haurchefant’s hand stop moving between his legs, too wrapped up in the process of letting Nidhogg fill his throat. Nidhogg presses on Haurchefant’s fingers, sharp, a slow but firm repetitive gesture. “Yes,” Haurchefant says breathlessly as Nidhogg’s tongue slips from his mouth. “Make me, ‘s fine if you conquer me, whatever you want.” He gets a little bit disoriented and these sorts of fantasies seem to slip out more often. Not that Nidhogg is above holding Haurchefant down and doing as he will, but perhaps later.
Nidhogg pushes Haurchefant’s fingers deeper inside of him. “Is that thee declaring thyself ready, then, knight?” Now knight is a pet name. He nips Haurchefant’s lower lip.
“I have been.” No, he hasn’t. This is why Nidhogg has to keep Haurchefant all for himself. Someone else will take advantage.
Nidhogg guides Haurchefant’s hands back to his scaled shoulders so Haurchefant can balance himself. Nidhogg is already hard, impossible not to be with Haurchefant panting on top of him. He positions himself carefully and guides Haurchefant’s hips to slowly sink the other atop of him.
Haurchefant is noisy, a nonsense spill of words telling him to keep going with no such coherency as Nidhogg’s cock pushes into him. Nidhogg rubs Haurchefant’s back and moves teeth in loose bites over his shoulder. He has to move slowly, much as Haurchefant might not want him to. Controlling both elezen’s movement and his own, he begins a slow rhythm of thrusts, drawing almost fully out before pushing himself a little deeper than before. He isn’t human, he isn’t the size of one, and his dick corresponds.
“I want,” Haurchefant pants low next to Nidhogg’s ear, “to feel it whenever I sit tomorrow. I want to know —”
“Thou shalt not be able to sit tomorrow. I shall keep thee lain low in bed with me, as mine,” Nidhogg growls back, fully aware of the way that makes Haurchefant shiver around him. He does in fact fully intend to keep Haurchefant immobile for a day or so, monopolize more of his time, but it works nicely into what kinks Haurchefant apparently has of submission.
He pushes Haurchefant deeper on his dick. He’s so close to taking the whole thing. Nidhogg speeds just marginally their motions, bathwater lapping at the sides of the basin to echo Haurchefant’s breathy moans. Nidhogg’s cock is big enough, slightly ridged, that it strokes against Haurchefant’s sensitive spots no matter where he moves and it makes Haurchefant relax himself fully into it, letting Nidhogg steer them to chase his own desires.
The base of Nidhogg’s dick is wider and a noticeable uncomfortable stretch when it presses to Haurchefant’s hole and then slips inside. Haurchefant slurs out a yes , the slight pain sending electricity up his spine. He did it, he took all of Nidhogg inside him, and the sting marks that, exiciting him further.
Nidhogg’s breathing has an edge of a growl to it. Everything makes Haurchefant dizzy, the hot steam of the air, the monster claiming him, the deep noises he feels against Nidhogg’s chest and the pleasure in his gut. “I’m going to come, love,” he says against Nidhogg’s neck. “Will you make me cum? Please? Just a little harder and I will, please let me.” He’s so slight against Nidhogg’s arms and body, against the large cock splitting him, and the dizziness of it is addictive. Nidhogg’s lips find his once again and Haurchefant kisses him messily as the claws gripping his waist gets tighter and the thrusting gets sharper. He moans a string of yes, please , into Nidhogg’s mouth until, finally, he leans back and comes with a loud cry.
Nidhogg fucks him through it. Nidhogg fucks him regardless, even after Haurchefant comes and he’s overstimulated and brought to lean against Nidhogg’s chest. If he stopped without coming, Haurchefant would chide him. The idea of being used like this, no matter the overwhelming feelings making his legs twitch and flooding his mind, turns him on further.
Nidhogg still isn’t done, and Haurchefant must be a good mate for him. It’s easier to let Nidhogg do as he wishes, but Haurchefant does his best to give a running stream of compliments and encouragement through the foggy thoughts of overstimulation. Nidhogg deserves to know how good he’s making Haurchefant feel, even if the specifics of what Haurchefant is saying don’t exactly make sense. Haurchefant knows, though, that even if Nidhogg won’t admit it, this is something he likes.
Nidhogg repositons, leaning so he can fuck Haurchefant deeper. There’s a strange instinct, the draconic attempt to create and preserve a brood that has nothing to do with sex combined with the human physical impulses. Haurchefant’s rambling does nothing to improve or ease the feeling. If he’s begging— Nidhogg’s not-consort, not-lover, not-treasure— to be kept and filled, then how could he do other than oblige. His cock pulses as he fucks Haurchefant closer, losing track of his measured pace as he tries to force himself ever deeper, no matter how impossible that might be.
He bites Haurchefant’s shoulder when he comes, the taste of blood flooding his tongue as his cock swells and pulses. The base thickens, locking them together with his cum safely stuck inside Haurchefant. He’s noticed Haurchefant’s dick doesn’t do this, and had it described as something that generally does not occur. Nidhogg prefers to think of it as why Haurchefant is to bear the next brood, despite knowing that is damn well entirely impossible. It doesn’t make the thought any less imperative when he fucks Haurchefant.
Nidhogg comes down slowly, releasing his jaw from Haurchefant’s flesh. He looks over at the other only to find Haurchefant already gazing at him with a tender gaze. A callused hand raises and smooths Nidhogg’s hair over. “We dirtied the water,” he says with an unbothered, affectionate lilt.
“I shall replace it and avoid indulging thee in the clean bath.”
“Are you sure?” Haurchefant says, canting his head teasingly. Ah, so that’s the game he wishes to play.
Nidhogg growls at him. “Must knights trouble me no matter the form?” Still, Haurchefant is stuck on his lap until the knot goes down enough to let him slip off, and even then it’s debatable if Haurchefant will be able to walk well enough to be anything other than pliant to Nidhogg. Or, if he asks nicely, perhaps Nidhogg will use his mouth. He can never truly refuse this… whatever Haurchefant is. His arms settle around Haurchefant’s body as the knight slumps against him to wait.