Archive of Our Own ^beta

         How long had it been now? Crimson 1 could only barely bring himself to open his eyes, but he did, and saw the orange of a sun hanging low in the sky, though he didn't catch its actual position. Had they only just started or did the moon pass over them already, with her gaze casting what ought to be in shadow in light? Nothing so pure should look upon them now, with their bodies and souls so low, with the earth caving in almost to blanket them.

         "M-Monarch"

         Crimson 1 scraped his nails into the unidentifiable material making up the ground beneath them. It was black with particles glowing with sunrise hues. They were both covered in its dust, though their scales would have glowed either way.

         Blood pumped and his wings fluttered. It did this involuntarily with how hard his heart chambers were pounding, still pounding. Everything now felt involuntarily, like his body already knew what to do. He breathed against the ground but no dust came in. He had either inhaled it already or soaked what was left on the ground with his saliva.

         Wet and wet and wet. Tears, saliva, slick, and cum. Indistinguishable. Not that Crimson 1 cared anymore anyway. He didn't think he had the capability to care anymore. His brain felt as gooey as his heavy insides. Every time he felt like he was at his limit, he could go a little more, stretch a little more, take a little more, beg a little more, and the cycle continued.

         Two hands gripped his sore, so sore, hips, and another was holding him between the twin arms on his side, lending both searing and gentle warmth. Crimson 1 wasn't sure if he was just sensitive or if he was actually being held so tightly, as if those hands thought he was going to fly away. He couldn't fly away now though, even if there was nothing forcing him to stay.

         The fire in Crimson 1's gut blazed again as Monarch pursued him again and again, behind him and inside his hips, always with an accuracy without compare. His body swayed, but the normal forces refused to let their cells slide into each other, and yet they were doing it anyway. They push on each other equal in magnitude and opposite in direction, but they only did that because they chose, didn't they? The way they twist and turn around each other shouldn't be possible for anyone else. The way Monarch pulled out, leaving what felt like a quivering vacuum inside of him, as agonizing as empty lungs begging to be filled, and twisted Crimson onto his back, wouldn't be possible for anyone else.

         He recovered from the disorienting turn like someone of his caliber should and took in the new details. Monarch huffing above him, circulating air between them so hot it was almost visible. The fluids covering his and Monarch's stomach. He was sure his clit would be as red as the sparkling cordium surrounding them if it weren't covered in cum. Crimson 1 forced his gaze upward.

         Powerful wings beat slowly behind Monarch, the color of liquid brilliance, somehow more vibrant than the light in which the scales reflect. How greedy they were to take and take and give more than asked in return. What a joke. He couldn't stop staring at them. The pattern was of burning suns haloed by cold black expanses sprinkled with pure white stars. He couldn't have helped being pulled into their orbit on the day they met.

         Others had admired him before. His wings, atleast. Every last one regarded them with such precision they were practically pinning him inside a glass case with their eyes. For a personal collection or museum or clinical study, it didn’t matter. How free Monarchs must have felt outside the glass house.

         Monarch, solely, was the one who could pin him. They pinned Crimson 1's first arms above his head and used their other arms to pin his hips to the ground. He couldn't even move his splayed out wings. The only things he could move, his second pair of arms, gravitated towards Monarch, his clawed hands clamping onto Monarch's own hips. The muscles under his palms shifted as Monarch lined themselves up against his abused and burning lips again. His flesh was easily pushed out of the way again, soft and slick and pliable, yielding to the final pin to lock him in place. Wet eyes rolled as Monarch reached the deepest part of him again, then again, and again. It made his abdomen spark so brightly that he barely noticed Monarch leaning down, bringing their faces closer together, circulating more hot air between their mouths. They breathed deep of each other. The air tasted like Monarch, and the him that carried on their breath.   

         His swollen lips tingled with electricity as Monarch almost tenderly connected them at yet another point. The way Monarch slid into his mouth was much too sweet, and his tongue was like nectar pouring into every spot it could reach. He sucked at it eagerly and uncurled his own tongue. They could both play the role of willing flower and hungry pollinator.

         Flesh desperately bound together, tongues wrapped and muscles clenched, and his whole body shook. Fiery sparks burst under skin, lighting shot throughout, and thunder boomed in his ears from the heart chambers so loud that he could barely hear. Only his skin and flesh knew of the moans inside his mouth, his throat, wherever they came from. It was like when they were in the air together, flinging the mother's dust at each other with singular focus. When everything burnt with an exhilaration without compare. All the other times they tore at each other like dogs his body had shook at the end for different reasons.

         A slow pressure had been building up inside him, now threatening the seams. Sparks flew where perfect arcs connected and his abdomen burst at frantic, irregular intervals. Their bodies a scorched Earth policy, as beautiful as the fiery patters on their wings. A tendril of lighting flew within its boundary, joined by another, joined by another, repelling each other, yet could not exist without the others, until the transparent dam cracked. Cracked until his vision went white and all that he was spilled out onto the earth that he carved.

         As Crimson 1 fluttered back down to reality he felt a warmth against his face. They were on their sides now, and Monarch was holding him against their chest. They were still tucked inside of him, but the only thing they were moving was their chest breathing in and out and their wings beating softly behind them. Apparently all of his arms were wrapped around Monarch, too.

         Some would say that this would be the culmination of humanity. Blood and lust coming together in harmony. But should we be so quick to attribute the actions of large swathes of people or dogs to singular ideas or men? Thousands of emotions that we cannot help to comprehend become this.

         Crimson 1 pushed his upper body up with weak arms with Monarch's own limp ones heavy upon him and looked around. They were surrounded by black rectangles jutting out of the ground at various angles, lit by the double orange hues of the sun above and the cordium magma below, in addition to the occasional lighting in the distance.

         The flap of a butterfly's wing caused all this.

         Next to him, something reached out of the char. It had long leaves and bubbled orange blooms. Milkweed. He didn't expect it, but he supposed that he should have. That plant supposedly grew near cordium sources, and was now growing here. It was also a plant that he used to eat as a child, which was common for those of his kind.

         Crimson 1 retreated back into Monarch's arms. He didn't have to emerge just yet. They could curl together like dogs and cocoon themselves into each other's arms until they were ready. The Earth could turn over and over, until they were ready to dig themselves out.