Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s the Saturday before Halloween and the lobby of the Amnesty Lodge is draped in orange and purple lights as the sounds of “I Love My Monsters” thump through the room. Barclay worked most of the morning making the food that now covers a long banquet table draped in shiny black cloth.

The lodge residents, plus Agent Stern, the Pine Guard, and Indrid are thoroughly caught up in the festivities. The costumes run the gamut from elaborate to slapdash, though everyone has gotten into the spirit at least somewhat. Ned is dressed as D.B Cooper, Barclay as a werewolf, Aubrey as a Buffy-era vampire (Dani’s costume consists of a necklace designed to look like bite marks in her neck), and Duck is wearing his work uniform with a small pin reading “only you can prevent forest fires.” Indrid has elected to attend in a black shirt with a white number eight on the front and the words “better not tell you now” written on the back. He and Barclay are doing their best to steer clear of Agent Stern, who is costumed as Special Agent Dale Cooper. Jake has dressed himself like Dr Harris Bonkers, PhD, who himself is dressed in a tiny ski suit with snowgoggles.

According to Mama (dressed like herself) in years when a federal agent isn’t sniffing around the place, everyone just walks around in their Sylph form during the party, since any accidental onlookers assume they’re all in costume. Annoyed as she is that the agent hasn’t left yet, she seems to be enjoying herself.

Duck and Indrid are leaning against the wall watching as Aubrey sneaks up behind Dani and pretends to bite her neck. Dani shrieks playfully before grabbing Aubrey and kissing her. Indrid sighs.

“Sometimes I think vampires got all the luck when it comes to navigating Earth.”

“How d’you figure?” Duck sips his drink.

“Humans, generally speaking, are more likely to find them attractive than terrifying, which in my experience makes life easier. A vampire turns up in a bedroom unannounced and there’s a chance the person will go ‘oh my, how dangerous yet sexy.’ Someone sees a giant moth creature in their room they’re just going to scream and call the cops.”

“You speakin' from personal experience there?”

“Yes. I was only trying to warn them about an impending wildfire.” Indrid mutters, crossing his arms.

“Did it work?”

“They noticed the blaze start when they ran to call the police and were able to evacuate in time. I still can’t go back to that county without feeling jumpy.”

“I’m sorry, darlin'.” Duck leans against him.

“No need to apologize, I simply wonder sometimes what it would be like to have people greet my Sylph form with excitement instead of terror.”

Duck takes another sip.

“I mean, you like that form, but it took you a little while to get used to it. If I’d just turned up in your bedroom one night, would you have wanted to do anything other than run away?”

Duck chokes on his drink a little and Indrid suddenly looks at him with a mixture of surprise and affection.

“Are you really about to say what you’re about to say?”

“No, yes, fuck, that’s such a confusin' way of askin' that I’m not sure how to lie.”

Indrid turns sideways, leaning on his elbow against the wall.

“Then why not tell the truth” A grin is creeping across his face just as a blush is creeping across Ducks'.

“All I’m gonna say is that fight or flight may not be the only reaction startin' with an F that would occur to me.”

Indrid leans closer, nips Ducks ear.

“Would you like to find out?”

“Uh huh.”

“I foresee that going very well for you.”

-------------------------------------------

Duck switches off the porch light, blows out the jack-o-lantern and shuts the front door, locking it behind him. He hasn’t had any trick or treaters for an hour, so he figures they’re done for the night. He pops a mini-snickers in his mouth and is about to stick the bowl out cat range when there’s a thump from the bedroom.

That’s weird. He lives alone except for the cat and she's sound asleep on the couch.

He steps quietly into the bedroom, lit by the glow of orange Halloween lights, reaches for the light switch, and freezes before he can flip it on.

Standing by the window that he'd left open ( which is now shut, with curtains drawn) is a huge dark figure with glowing red eyes and wings folded across his back. He has to be at least two feet taller than Duck, made larger by the feathery antennae protruding from his head.

“Hey, uh, buddy? Trick or treatin' is over for the night. Also, traditionally people use the front door rather than the window.” Duck tries to keep his voice steady, even though his heart is pounding. His visitor cocks his head.

“I assure you this is not a costume.” The voice is soft, but commanding. The figure steps closer to Duck and he can see that he is, in fact, staring at some sort of mothman.

“Oh. Well, uh, that’s nice. I’m just gonna go sit in the livin room for a bit I guess.” Duck takes one step backward before a wing extends from the visitor, shutting the door and blocking his way out.

“What”

“Do you want?” The figure speaks over him, finishing the sentence.

“Yeah, that.”

“You.” The wing blocking the door taps Duck on the back, nudging him until he’s toe to toe with the visitor, candy bowl held defensively in front of him. The other wing wraps around to join its counterpart and form a curtain around Duck.

“That’s, uh, flatterin,' I think. You might have me mixed up with someone else, someone more suited to a person of your…stature?”

“No, Duck Newton, I do not.” As he speaks he steps forward, Duck steps backward, a motion they repeat until Duck realizes the wings have parted slightly and his back pressed to the wall.

Duck inhales sharply, feels his feet leave the floor as clawed hands lift him up, back still against the wall, so that they are eye-to-eye. On instinct, Duck places a hand of each of the wrists holding him, even though he knows his odds of making the visitor release him are slim given his size. The bowl he was holding hits the ground with a clatter. His visitor considers him, thoughtfully.

“You’re not afraid of me. Usually people think I’m going to eat them.”

Duck shakes his head.

“Naw, have it on good authority that moths only eat sweet stuff, like soda.”

The visitor grins, wide, and a tongue flicks out between the teeth.

“You were misled, some moths also drink sweat and tears. Or blood.” The tongue, much longer than that of a human, extends, licks a stripe across Ducks throat. He shudders at the feeling, letting out a soft moan without meaning to. When he hears that reaction, the visitor does it again.

“You’re correct however. I have no desire to hurt you, quite the opposite, though I may make you scream.”

Duck squirms and the grip on his body tightens as the visitor closes the distance between them as he continues licking his neck and throat, palps (Duck’s pretty sure that’s what they’re called) occasionally grazing his skin. Duck moans, louder this time.

“You do like that” the voice sounds pleased.

Duck nods, whimpers, tries to get his thoughts in order.

“Well then, let’s see what other noises I can get out of you.”

“You gonna at least tell me your name first?”

“Perhaps.”

Ducks view of the world shifts as he’s pulled away from the the wall and tossed over the visitors shoulder. The figure sits down on the bed, adjusting so that he’s sitting up with his back against the wall and legs spread, dropping Duck into the space between them. Duck’s left sitting back on his heels, facing a large, soft chest covered in black feathers, bracing a hand on each of the visitors legs to help steady himself from the dizziness of being turned every which way. He starts to look up at the visitor when he feels claws hook into his shirt, and then it’s pulled up and over his head.

He freezes, unsure as to what he’s supposed to do when confronted with a giant mothman that wants to see him shirtless.

A hand is in his hair, moving his head about gently, while the other roams across his stomach, chest, and back, occasionally moving up to stroke his cheek. One finger traces a path from under his chin, down his neck, before the hand splays across his chest, curves down and around until it squeezes his ass. A content hum comes from his visitor as he looks at him and Duck realizes what’s happening.

He’s being admired.

The creature leans down, bumps his forehead against Ducks own with a small chirp, continues caressing him. He feels himself relaxing in the visitors arms, enjoying the attention. Dimly, a thought occurs to him.

“Why me?”

“Because, my sweet little human, I have been observing you. You are brave, and noble, honest even when you wish you weren’t. Not to mention I find you extremely pleasant to look at. And to touch.” He runs an appreciative hand across Ducks thigh to illustrate his point, before running his thumb along the outline of Ducks cock.

“You’re just sayin' that to, to, oh fuck, to get in my pants.” Duck says jokingly.

“Hardly. I am saying it because it’s true.” He pulls Ducks head back, licks playfully across his neck while simultaneously applying more pressure on his crotch. Duck whines, twitches his hips forward.

“Mmmm, you really are delightful. I have such plans for you, I want to make you feel so incredible. Would you like that?”

“Fuck, yes, please.”

“Good answer, my sweet. Come closer.” He pulls Duck against him, takes Ducks hand in his own. Brings that hand up and rubs it fondly against his cheek.

“Indrid.”

“What?”

“My name. It’s Indrid.”

“ ‘s a nice name.” Duck smiles up at him, lets Indrid guide his hand down between his legs. He’s not entirely sure what he’s feeling for until Indrid brings their hands to rest on something fairly solid.

Ah.

Okay, he’s gonna go ahead and assume that’s it.

Indrid guides his hand back and forth, slowly, and he feels the object under it start to respond. The hand not instructing Duck rests between his shoulder blades, pushing him against Indrids chest. He feels vibration against his cheek, realizes Indrid is purring. Wings have encircled him again, feeling more like an embrace than a trap this time.

Duck’s about to move his other hand down to deal with his own hard-on when he Indrid whispers, “ah ah, not just yet. I’ll take care of you, I promise, but right now you have other things to attend to.” Duck obeys, focuses on stroking Indrid off until the hand holding his freezes in place.

“Can you guess what comes next, my sweet?” Indrids voice is low, panting, as he looks down at Duck, one hand on his chin.

“You, uh, get me off and then I return the favor?”

A predatory grin spreads across Indrids face.

“Not quite. What happens next is I have my way with you until I’m satisfied.”

A mixture of desire, excitement, and a little bit of apprehension shoots through his veins as Indrid leans forward and Duck flops backward with a distinct lack of grace so that Indrid is looming over him. Indrid has him by the hair again, tongue moving purposefully across his neck, and he’s really glad he’s not wearing his work pants as a ripping sound signals their unceremonious removal. The purr coming from his companion morphs into a growl.

He experiences a moment of terror when a clawed hand dips below the waistband of his boxers. He can handle a lot of things but the thought of something, or several somethings, that sharp inside him makes him tense.

Indrid seems to sense his worry, sits up.

“Don’t fear, as I said I don’t want to do anything that would hurt you. Instead I’m going to have you put on a little show for me.” There’s a rummaging sound as Duck sits up, and then lube and a few condoms are tossed in front of him. Indrid returns to his previous position sitting against the wall.

“Come sit with your back to me.” Indrid motions for Duck to join him. He pulls off his shredded boxers and does so, sitting between Indrids legs with his back and head against the warm, soft surface of Indrids chest.

He opens his legs, and it takes him a few seconds to position himself comfortably. He hisses when he slips the first finger in. He really needs to start keeping his lube somewhere warmer.

As he builds up a rhythm and adds a second finger, Indrids arm wraps reassuringly across his shoulders and chest.

“That’s it, sweet one, that’s it. Tell me, what are you thinking about?”

“Just a guy I know.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a cute one, tall with white hair, kinda skinny but has the nicest ass in Kepler.”

“As flattering, I mean, as interesting as that is, I imagine you aren’t just picturing him standing there.”

Duck huffs out a small laugh, shuts his eyes as he relaxes his head completely against Indrid.

“Alright, you got me. Thinkin' about takin' him out for a drive, goin' somewhere nice and quiet in the woods, suckin' him off in the front seat and then, oh fuck, makin' him sit in my lap so I can fuck him til he can’t move.” He manages to get three fingers in as he speaks, feels Indrid softly buck his hips against him, clearly liking what he’s hearing and seeing.

“Then again, might bring him straight home, use these handcuffs I got on him.” He’s worked four in now and Indrid is purring again

“Just trap those nice hands of his behind his back so I can fuck him however I feel like, then leave him waitin' there until I decide to come back for morOOOKAY.” Duck is roughly flipped forwards onto his knees, has to remove his hand to catch himself, tosses the condom away once he gets his balance.

“Much as I’d like to hear the end of that thought, I think you’re ready.” Indrid growls, holding Ducks hips in place as he works his way in.

“Who knew my sweet human had such a filthy mind?” He gains a little more entry with a sharper thrust.

“Fuck!

“Filthy mouth too, although I knew that already.” Indrid laughs, moving softly back and forth. Duck moans, the ache and movement lighting up his nerves in the best way possible.

Indrid begins thrusting hard and fast, claws leaving small trails wherever he grips Duck, who at this point can’t do much more than hold onto the sheets and curse.

There’s a sudden and sharp pain, and not the fun kind, in Ducks left thigh.

“Ow, shit.”

Everything stills and then it’s Indrid, his boyfriend and not the mysterious visitor, speaking in a worried voice.

“Duck? What happened, should I stop?”

“Got me with your claw I think. Don’t gotta stop, it mostly just startled me.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve seen that coming. I was a little preoccupied.”

Duck gives a shaky laugh.

“Wonder why.”

He feels Indrid nuzzle the back of his neck.

“Do you want to keep going? I’ll go easier on the scratches, I promise.”

“Sounds good darlin'.”

There’s a low growl and his visitor pulls most of the way out before thrusting hard and setting a punishing pace. His hands frame Ducks own and he makes new tears in the sheets as he comes with a groan. Ducks breathing is ragged, but he can still clearly hear Indrid say, almost to himself, “that should take the edge off.”

Indrid pulls out and Duck collapses, rolling onto his back. Indrid rolls onto his side, runs a hand lovingly across Ducks stomach.

“You did so well, my sweet. And you’re quite durable. Not that I have much firsthand experience, but humans can’t always handle being with entities of my size.”

“Yep, that’s me, local tough boy.”

The hand travels south, wraps itself around Ducks cock, stroking it lazily, his glowing eyes never leaving Ducks face. He picks up his pace with a grin and Ducks muscles tighten as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

And the Indrid stops, causing Duck to let out an prolonged whine.

“You’re killin' me here.”

“It’s not every day I get a human in my bed, and I intend to take my time with you.”

“Technically it’s my bed.”

“Be that as it may,” Indrid sits up, cross-legged, still facing Duck “I’m going to find every way to make you squirm before I let you come.” He leans forward.

Something wet circles the head of Ducks cock, and when he glances down he sees Indrid coil his tongue around it before slowly retracting it back into his mouth.

“Good?” There’s that grin, the one that suggests he knows something Duck doesn’t.

He nods. The tongue darts back out, licks a stripe up his cock. Indrid purrs, sending vibrations into Ducks body, continuing to tease him with his tongue as he does so. A few more seconds and Duck will…

Goddammit, Indrid’s stopped again. He’s petting Ducks leg soothingly as Duck writhes in (mostly) mock frustration.

“Easy does it, once you calm down a bit I’ll start again. You’re doing so well.”

Duck breathes deep, tries to bring his heart-rate down, focuses on Indrids calm tone.

After a minute, Indrid decides Duck has mellowed enough that he starts again. He sits back up and grips the shaft tight and fast, moving his thumb across the tip. Ducks hips buck upward and Indrid adjusts his grip so Duck can fuck his fist. Third time’s the charm, he can feel it.

Indrids hand is suddenly gone and a hand clamps over Ducks mouth just as he lets out an extremely loud groan.

“Careful about getting too loud. Someone might come to check on you and then I’d have to fly off and leave you like this.”

“‘Ou woudnt are.” Duck growls into Indrids palm.

“I very much would. Also I know you’re about to bite my hand, and I suggest you consider the repercussions of that actiOUCH.” Indrid pulls his hand away and Duck grins at him.

“Is that the direction you want to take this, my dear human?”

It so very much is. This is the best kind of torture, letting Indrid take his time toying with him, and Duck wants to see what else he'll do.

“I ain’t afraid of you, remember? Seen scarier things than you in the woods.”

Indrid cocks his head, considering Duck for a moment. Then he bares his teeth with a growl.

He’s on Duck in a flash, straddling him and pinning both his hands over his head with just one of his own. He reaches across the bed and grabs the tie Duck tossed there earlier when he changed after work.

“Open your mouth.” Duck considers their respective positions, does as he’s told, and Indrid shoves the tie into his mouth. Immediately after his hand is on Ducks cock again, stroking him hard.

“If it’s too much at any point, snap your fingers twice.”

He stops just as Duck as about to come. It’s almost like he can see the future.

Indrid keeps up his torment for an eternity (alright, it’s actually about twenty minutes), alternating between using his hands and simply rutting up against Duck with pleased chirps and hums that increase whenever Duck frantically grinds his hips attempting to get off. It’s only when Duck is a shaking, whimpering mess that Indrid relents, gingerly reaching down and removing the tie from his mouth and releasing his hands before sitting up. Duck tries to make an alluring gesture to indicate Indrid should come back, but it comes across as more a desperate grabbing motion.

“It’s alright my sweet, I’m not going anywhere. Simply adjusting.” He takes Ducks hands and gently pulls him upright, before easing onto his back, moving Duck with him so that he’s lying on top of a bed of black feathers. Indrid runs a hand through Ducks hair, lightly scritches the back of his neck.

“You are truly a delightful creature to have all to myself. You held out so long, would you like a reward?”

“Mmmhmmmm” Duck nods against Indrid.

“Fuck yourself on me.”

“Not mincin' words are we?”

“You aren’t the only one who got wound up by all that.”

Duck sits up, adjusts slightly so he can start working Indrid inside him, vaguely hears his own voice make obscene noises as he does so, screws his eyes shut in concentration. Feels Indrids humming reverberate up through his body.

He starts to shift back and forth, grinds down every time Indrid bucks up. He's stroking himself off, chasing the release that Indrid’s been dangling in front of him.

“Mmm, now that is a lovely sight.” Indrid purrs, resting his hands behind his head as he watches Duck come increasingly undone.

“You really get off on, oh fuck like that, on watchin' huh, oh fuckmefuckmefuckME.” Duck hasn’t come this hard in ages, is too relieved to care that he collapses on Indrids chest with a solid “thwump.”

Strong hands grip at his ass and hips as Indrid fucks up into him, and Duck fists his fingers into the down beneath him at the overstimulation that stays on the good side of too-much. After a few moments he feels Indrid come with a drawn out chirp-moan.

They lay in an exhausted pile for a minute, and then Indrid eases Duck off of himself and onto the bed. Sex drunk and sleepy, he only vaguely registers Indrid padding about the room looking for something.

The bed dips as Indrid climbs back on.

“Open.”

Duck opens his mouth and is pleased when Indrid places a mini kit-kat into it. Indrid pets his hair, whispering as he does.

“Have to keep your strength up, my sweet. Because once we’ve caught our breath…”

He places a claw under Ducks chin, grinning.

“..I’m going to devour you.”

-----------------------------------------------

Several hours later, Duck is positive there isn’t a single part of his body that hasn’t been fawned over, fucked, or both.

Indrid has wrung two more orgasms out of him (not like he’s complaining), once using only his tongue, and come on or in Duck a remarkable number of times. They’re on their sides, Indrid rubbing up against Duck from behind him, holding him tight. Duck feels like he’s floating, like his body has found some realm of sensation that’s a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion, like he’s softer, more malleable, than he was when he started. And all that matters is Indrids voice in his ear, Indrids hands on his skin. He could stay like this forever.

Something damp spreads across a patch of his lower back and Indrid relaxes his embrace, bringing his right wing around to blanket Duck.

“Okay, that's all I can handle for the evening. Gracious, I can’t feel my legs.” He says softly.

“Join the club.” Duck responds, dreamily. Indrids voice is far away as he chuckles, nuzzles the top of Ducks head.

“Don’t go anywhere, I need to grab some water.”

There’s a rustling sound as Indrid moves out of bed, and a small “ow” as he clonks against the door-frame.

Duck is drifting, not really asleep but not exactly awake There’s another thump as Indrid bumps into the doorway again before sitting on the bed.

“...think Duck? Duck?”

“Whaazat?”

Indrid smiles gently, strokes his cheek.

“Come back to me love.”

Duck sits up slowly, shakes his head. The world starts to lose its soft focus.

“Christ almighty, everything is sore.”

“There you are.” Indrid smiles again, opens his arms so Duck can crawl into them.

“C’mon, let’s go sit in the living room. Ned’s playing an all-night marathon of Saturday Night Dead and I want to see if anything can top the awfulness of 'The Giant Gila Monster.' Though you should maybe shower first. You’re a tad...sticky.”

“Uh huh, I wonder who’s to blame for that?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. In their defense, you seemed to enjoy yourself.” He scoops Duck up, bridal-style.

“You can say that again.”

Indrid carries Duck to the bathroom door before putting him down.

“I’d join you, but getting my wings through this doorframe in particular is a bother.”

“Darlin', if I owned this place instead of rentin' it I’d fix it up so that you and those big wings of yours could get through every door with room to spare.”

Indrid leans his head through the door, kisses Duck on the forehead.

“I’d like that. Someday”

By the time Duck cleans off and dries himself, Indrid has put on his glasses and is sitting in front of the space heater in his human form. He takes Ducks place in the bathroom (they’ve tried showering together before but Indrid needs the water to be unbearably hot), returns smelling of vanilla a few minutes later.

They snuggle up on the couch, Duck drawing a blanket around both of them (Winnie has her own on her spot on the rug). It doesn’t take long before Indrid is curled up, head in Ducks lap, nearly asleep.

Duck clicks off the T.V., stuffs a pillow under his head, and shuts his eyes. There’s a rustle of movement and he feels familiar lips on his own as Indrid kisses him goodnight.

“Happy Halloween, Duck.”

“Happy Halloween, Darlin.”