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coffeeghoulie · 1 month

Text

you know that it takes two

or a swissdew fic I wrote after haphazardly tailoring some ghost pants bc I am incredibly short and I ate shit when I tried them on.

Contains some light feminization and a semi-public handjob. This got a lot dirtier than I intended lol

The rising sun filters in past the blinds, casting long shadows and catching the dust motes in the air. The tv in the common room is on, playing some baking show Swiss isn't quite awake enough to process, volume too low for him to really make out without subtitles. He's sprawled on his back on the couch, one foot hooked over the back, eyes half open.

He's awake earlier than normal and he's not sure why. Not that it matters. His body must've just decided it was time to be awake, so he had made his way out here, waiting for any of his packmates to wake up and join him.

Swiss lays there for a long moment before the sound of padding feet makes his gaze snap to the doorway. Dew steps into the common room, stretching with an audible crack that makes Swiss groan in sympathy.

He's a vision, even bedraggled, and Swiss offers him a lazy smile and waves the hand that had been idly scratching at his stomach. Dew hums in acknowledgment, quietly making his way over to the couch.

As he gets closer, Swiss gets a better view of what the fire ghoul's wearing: a shirt that's obviously Aether's by the way it comes down to mid thigh, sliding off his shoulder and exposing a sharp collar bone. More interesting are the lounge pants, cuffs rolled up three times, and Swiss could bet that the drawstrings are triple knotted so they don't slip down Dew's narrow hips. There's a pattern, and Swiss cocks his head as he takes in the Cardinal's face, the ghoul masks, the band's logo and Grucifixes.

"Didn't think you were a merch of your own band kind of guy, spitfire" he chuckles, stretching and baring his fangs as he yawns.

"Fine, I stole them a few weeks back, need to hem them. Might talk Rain into doing it," Dew says, hissing as his foot catches on one of the pant legs and he stumbles. Swiss reaches out on impulse, but the fire ghoul rights himself with a grumble. "Shut up, 'm fine. they're comfortable."

"You do look comfortable," Swiss concedes. “C'mere,” he says, patting his chest in invitation. Dew accepts almost eagerly, laying down in the vee of Swiss's legs.

Dew rests the back of his head on Swiss's chest, and Swiss sputters teasingly as he overemphasizes spitting out Dew's hair, falling out of its bun.

"Knock it off," Dew slurs as he gets comfortable, a rusty purr rattling his slight frame. If he's unusually snuggly, neither of them mention it.

Swiss noses at Dew's hair, wrapping an arm around his waist, getting a good feel of the pants, the sharp hipbones underneath. "I get it," he whispers, half paying attention to the tv. "Those feel soft. Think they might fit me?"

He doesn't need to see Dew's face to know he's rolling his eyes. "Mine," he says in lieu of an answer. “You can get your own.”

He hums, idly playing with the waistband, the drawstrings (he was right, they are triple knotted). He means nothing of it, content with a lapful of fire ghoul, but then his hand trails just a little bit lower and he finds it.

A small, plastic button right over the front of the pants, where the fly in a pair of boxers would be. Swiss's fingers fiddle with the button, and the next thing he knows, there's claws pressing at the back of his hand. Not piercing skin yet, just warning.

"Swiss, what're-" Dew stammers, stiff as a board as he turns to look up at him.

He blinks, glancing down at the smaller ghoul as he realizes what he's doing. "Shit, Dew-" he goes to apologize, but there's an undeniable throb underneath his knuckles, a damp spot growing in the soft fabric of his pants. A shit eating grin splits his face and he noses again at Dew's hair. It smells of Mountain's shampoo, bergamot and tea tree. It suits him. "Say the word and I'll stop. Promise."

They lay there frozen, eyes locked as the silence says more than either of them could. Dew lets go of his hand and Swiss smiles, kissing him.

Swiss plays with the button until it slips out of the buttonhole, and he slides his hand into the fly. They both groan at the touch of skin on skin, Dew having forgone underwear. He's so warm between his thighs, especially the line of his cock, already desperately hard and leaking.

He presses the heel of his hand against it and Dew jerks in his lap, cock blurting precum. He's seen Dew worked up enough times to know what it looks like, the tip ruddy and shiny, dripping into the coarse curls at the base.

“Easy, spitfire,” Swiss whispers in his ear, nipping gently at the point of it. Dew makes a hurt little noise, head tipping back against his chest. His own dick throbs, filling out and pressing against the small of Dew's back.

He doesn't wrap his fingers around Dew's cock, just gently pets up and down the shaft, slicking it with his own pre. Every so often he brushes a calloused fingertip down the seam of his balls and Dew hisses, turns his face to hide in Swiss's chest. Swiss can feel his pulse already, little cock throbbing in time against his palm. A wave of scent, woodsmoke and spice, hits him like a bus.

“So worked up, sweetheart, aren't you?” Swiss coos, his other hand coming up to grab at Dew's jaw. He tilts the fire ghoul's face up, makes him make eye contact. Dew's eyes, normally like shiny copper pennies, are engulfed by blown pupils.

“Swiss-” Dew chokes out, but then Swiss is kissing him, all filthy and far too hungry for this early in the morning. Dew's pliant, sleep still clinging to him, and he yields immediately, letting Swiss lick into his mouth like there's something sweet at his center. And there is, isn't there? Not awake enough to put up the front, stripped bare to the softest version of him?

Dew moans frantically into the kiss, and Swiss pulls back, golden gaze hardening, lips spit-slick. “Quiet, spitfire,” he whispers, squeezing his stiff little cock. “You don't want the rest of the pack finding you like this, do you? So damn easy, with my hand in your pants?”

Dew groans, a little quieter. “Lucifer, fucking- Swiss,” he shudders in his lap as the multi-ghoul finally wraps his fingers around him properly.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He coos, squeezing Dew's jaw a little, dimpling his cheeks as he fishes him out of the pants, not bothering with pushing them down, just pulling him through the fly. Just as he thought, the head is cherry red and shiny, the same color that his cheeks have turned, the blush spilling down past the collar of Aether's shirt.

“Fucking- shit- make me cum,” he sputters.

“Is that how we ask, pretty girl?” Swiss growls low in his throat, but he starts jerking him off anyways. The slick head of his dick peeks out from his fist, but it covers the rest of him.

Dew groans, hips bucking up into Swiss's fist, drooling precum over his knuckles. He fights against the hand on his jaw, trying to hide, but Swiss won't let him. He stills his hand, and Dew makes a noise like he's been punched in the gut.

”Ask nicely, sweetheart," he says, their foreheads pressed together, unable to look anywhere but at each other.

Dew's breathing is uneven, chest heaving. Except for his panting, there's silence for a long moment.

“Please make me cum, Swiss,” Dew almost whimpers.

Swiss grins, a blinding flash of fangs as he jerks Dew off. His grip tightens ever so slightly and the fire ghoul keens, tail wrapped tight around Swiss's thigh as he fights to lay still.

Every jerk of Dew's hips ruts him against Swiss's cock, painfully hard in his sweats, but he ignores it for the squirming mess in his lap. He rucks up Aether's shirt, exposing his nearly concave belly, his nipple rings glinting in the early sunlight. He was right. The blush goes down past his nipples, makes the silver jewelry really stand out.

“Such a good girl for me, Dewey,” Swiss says, punctuating it with a kiss to his cheek, oddly tender compared to the way he jerks him. “Lettin' me touch you like this out in the open, where anybody could see you this needy. They'd want you like this, spitfire, such a pretty little mess for me. You'd let them watch, wouldn't you?”

Dew's breath hitches, writhing in Swiss's lap as his free hand snakes up to play with the silver rings threaded through his nipples. His spindly fingers catch around Swiss's wrist, not trying to stop him, just desperate for something to hang on to. His other claws at the couch cushion, puncturing the fabric with his needle sharp claws.

“Will you say it for me, spitfire?” Swiss asks, speeding up the hand on Dew's cock.

Dew swallows hard, making aborted little thrusts up into Swiss's hand.

“Say what?” Dew asks through grit teeth, eyes half lidded as Swiss moves his hand down to roll his balls in his hand.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Swiss says, and Dew just barely bites back a cry as he squeezes ever so slightly. “You know what I want you to say. Say it and I promise I'll make you cum so hard, make you make a mess of yourself.”

Dew makes another hurt noise, mumbling something under his breath.

“Ah-ah, baby, I can't understand you, use your words,” Swiss says. He knows it's cruel, but Dew's dick jerks in his hand and he can't be damned to care. “What are you, spitfire?” he prompts, giving his dick a little squeeze in encouragement.

Dew cries out, too far gone to even try and muffle himself. “'M your girl, please just fucking make me cum, Swiss, please!”

His voice hitches deliciously, and Swiss smiles, unable to deny him anything.

“So good for me, sweetheart,” Swiss coos, starting to jerk him off, picking up the pace until Dew's writhing frantically in his lap again. “So fucking good, Dewdrop, such a good girl for me, that's it.”

He feels Dew's cock stiffen impossibly harder in his hand, feels his balls draw up against his knuckles. “C'mon, baby, cum for me, make a pretty mess for me.”

Dew wails, dick throbbing in time with his pulse as he spills, shooting over Swiss's knuckles as cum splatters across his belly, all the way up to his pierced nipples. Swiss doesn't ease up, cooing in his ear the entire time. “There it is, that's it, doing so good for me, spitfire, give it to me.”

He peppers little kisses over the side of Dew's face as the fire ghoul writhes, the stimulation pushing into too much. He doesn't try to stop it, lets Swiss keep jerking his spent little cock, fangs sinking deep into his lower lip.

His entire body goes slack when Swiss eventually lets him go. ”Fuck, Swiss,“ Dew laughs incredulously, narrow chest heaving as he comes down.

Swiss can't help but return his grin. ”Yeah? Good?“

Dew smacks him with no real heat. “No fucking shit, Swiss.”

Swiss kisses his temple, reaching around to wipe Dew's cum up with his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with an obscene groan. Dew's cock kicks weakly.

“You want me to-?”

“Nah, I think I'm good,” Swiss says, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop. “More than satisfied with this, spitfire.”

Dew's blush hasn't receded yet, but he settles down against Swiss's chest, yanking his shirt down and getting comfortable again.

Swiss laughs, pressing one more kiss to Dew's temple. He reaches down, tenderly taking Dew's cock in hand, tucking it away. He grins as he does up the little button.

#i am Out Of Practice writing smut lmao #though i will say those pants are legitimately incredibly comfortable #dot's writing #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #cw feminization #swissdew #swiss/dew

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