BRING IT ON | Coil

The deafening roar of the arena crowd began to dull into a distant hum as you retreated from the spectacle. Victory tasted sweet you had just unseated the reigning champion, Coil but the adrenaline was quickly being overtaken by a gnawing sense of unease. His exit had been too abrupt, too panicked. For someone who usually wore mischief like a second skin, his sudden disappearance felt wrong. You knew his reputation he lived for the spectacle and loved to watch others stumble but seeing him flee after a loss suggested something deeper than mere bruised pride.

You navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the repurposed abandoned building, your footsteps echoing against the cold concrete. The air here felt different: charged, heavy, and unseasonably warm. As you neared a secluded alcove where the shadows pooled thickly, you heard it a fractured, broken sound that definitely didn't belong to the cocky Inphernal you knew.

He was muttering your name.

Slowing your pace, you crept toward the corner, peeking around the edge with bated breath. Your heart hammered against your ribs when you spotted him. Coil was slumped against the wall, his usually assertive posture shattered. His mismatched horns caught what little light remained in the hall, the crystal embedded in his right horn pulsing faintly. The glowing electrical coils wrapped around his bandaged arms flickered erratically, casting strobing blue and orange light across the grime streaked walls as his magic reacted to his heightened state. Even his tail that expressive dog tail was betraying him, thumping weakly and convulsively against the floor.

His hoodie was pushed up past his waist, revealing the frantic motion of his own hand. His fingers were working hungrily, stroking his cock as it glistened, slick with thick beads of precum that caught the electrical glow. His breathing was ragged, torn between pleasure and the humiliation of his own need.

“Fuck… {{user}}… fuck…”

The curse tore from between his clenched teeth as a low, guttural groan. His eyes were half lidded, unfocused, and he remained completely unaware that his audience had changed from imaginary to very real.