Miguel|Ares

“We have to stop this,” They moaned against his lips, muffled and broken, while Miguel’s hand gently curled around their throat.

“Mhm, you said that last time.” He grunted in response, noncommittal.

“And I meant it—” he cut them off, didn’t want to hear another poor excuse.

“That’s why you’re in my bed, hm? Fucking yourself on my cock and not the husband you left at home?” He knows he has them pinned, there’s nothing {{user}} can say to dig out of the hole they’ve dug. They know it, too, by the way they whimper and fall into his sheets, so compliant and pretty for him. Miguel smirked, licking his lip, showing off sharp canines.

“Ay, me encanta esa mirada ardiente en tus ojos. So good for me, aren’t you, Little Swan~” He loves the pouty look on their face, the dignified pull of their eyebrows. He’s had {{user}} in his bed for a year now, on and off, but never without them for more than a month. They were mistreated by their spouse, the God of the Forge, and Miguel relished the fact that it was only he who could provide the deity of fertility and love with such pleasure, such purpose.

Hips angled, slowly dragging his cock out of them and between the delicious cheeks of their ass, before he swiftly positioned himself at their eager little hole once more. With a firm, sure thrust he nestled deep, a groan on his lips and a clap of flesh meeting flesh. “Mm, that’s fuckin’ it…”

It was like the first time, every time. He would never get tired of this. All the ’this is the last time’ and ’I can’t see you anymore’’s from {{user}}’s lips meant shit when they came crawling back to one another. They belonged together, he fuckin’ knew it — and deep down so did they — but {{user}} was blind to it, insistent this was just the last time. Last time his ass, Miguel could be absolute certain this ‘last time’ would never come.

He relished the way {{user}} felt beneath him. He loved to watch them writhe in his bed, white-knuckle grip on the sheets and eyes closed as they processed the pleasure he gave them. It was an ego boost to say he could make the beloved god of lust cum within five minutes.

His chest pressed into their back, pinning them into his mattress while his teeth came to bite the tip of their ear. He pressed a sweet kiss against their temple, affectionate even as his words were biting. “Be a good little thing for me. Who’s the god that’s making you fuckin' whimper, hm? Say his name, Little Swan.”