Work Text:
They wandered an infinite land. Their home stretched and rewoven by the ministrations of their shared dreams. The Haligtree festered with blood and rot towering taller and taller than the land would ever be able to support. The Liurnia of the Lakes boiling red and seeping through its roots in twisting rivers. They rode down them while snow and golden leaves drifted on the stagnant air. The warm blood glittering and dripping from their vessel. Mohg's trident being used to push them along the shallow ways until the unending night of Nokron cloaked them both in soothing dark. They lay in the waters, the slow rocking of their boat still lulling even as it became no more. The dream shifting between pleasant realities one after the other and allowing them all to blur together like oil emulsified into water.
Rarely it would catch. Miquella would reach out and grab a painful hold on one moment or another. Stalling them in their drifting and bringing them both closer to the surface where waking felt just a hairsbreadth away.
Mohg knealt in the blood swamp of his palace, a place Miquella has yet to see for himself but which he now studies curiously from beneath the shelter of Mohg's body.
His form was still undecided, as transient and constantly flowing as their dreams. Mohg leaned to kiss his cheek, his teeth meeting soft skin and dense fur and jagged chitin and gore that rotted his flesh. His lover's face one of divine youth, of a many jawed beast, of a withered corpse sprouting omen horns, of Miquella. Beautiful and resplendent gold and so thoroughly himself no matter what form his godhood would eventually take.
Mohg would beg to worship him no matter what he looked like once he finished making himself anew.
Miqella hummed his burning eyes turning to Mohg above him, his fingers, soft and clawed and many dancing over the exposed skin at Mohg's collar.
They had spoken about everything within the confines of this cocoon. Not a word was left unsaid between them, but Mohg found more reguardless.
"My Miquella," he purred it like a prayer, it may as well be one, "Do you desire for more?"
"I desire," Miquella responded. He desired all and nothing but most of all he desired his consort. A fair maiden laid out beneath a beast in a pool of blood. Bare and pure and new and ready to be defiled. He chose this form for a moment, feeling constricted even as Mohg kissed him with reverence.
Mohg would love and worship him no matter the form he took, but Miquella knew what his consort desired most. He wanted for something small and silken. Something that would be so delicate Miquella was garunteed to still need him as more than a sire for their dynasty.
Miquella called him a fool the one time he admitted it. The bond they shared was more than that of brothers, or godling and consort. Mohg was the blood in his veins, the warmth and love and determination that made the agony of ascension worth it.
No matter what form he took, no matter what future they dreamed of together, or what future clawed it way into existence despite them. There would never be a moment he didn't need Mohg in all ways.
Mohg's hands dragged along the fine lines of Miquella's torso. Tracing where unalloyed gold chitin met velvet soft skin. His fingers splaying accross the plates. his hands drifting to ring a set of the many segmented legs that grew from his beloved's infinity.
Miquella choked on Mohg's tongue, or Mohg choked on his. Tangled mind, body, and soul, as they were, trying to tell who felt what was an impossible and worthless task.
Mohg's robes disappeared leaving him as bare as the empyrean beneath, above, within, and surrounding him was. He shifted his Miquella in his arms and pressed the heavy weight of his arousal between them, lining their cocks side by side and rutting into the tight space between their bellies.
Who dreamed of Mohg's massive length spearing Miquella open didn't matter. Only that now they could both feel the wretched burning tear of a far too small body being ripped open with every barbed thrust. A pale stomach blooming purple with internal bleeding as its deformed by the wealth of Mohg's love. They feel the overwhelming fullness and painful stretching of a body not meant to bare being filled with the fruits of their love. Egg after egg settling into the nest of their father as he pleads for more. Consort and broodmare for their dynasty and so ecstatic that the pain is a divine and gifted pleasure.
They feel warm walls wrapped around their cocks, blood and slick and spend easing their movemts until they are both full to bursting with the amorphous dreams of their future together.
Love and excess and growth and so much glorious blood watering their family tree as it flourishes grander and more beautiful than all others.
They lay in the aftermath of it all. Ruined and whole and desperate for the day Miquella would finally rise from his slumber so that they may embrace and consummate their marriage over and over again where their flesh would finally give way to the child they both desired more than the drowning wanted for air.
Once again they both drifted in an immense and unending dream. Mohg's mind and blood being the only anchor and lifeline keeping Miquella from being lost to a meaningless blood red sea where his ascension may never come.
The sea rippled, Miquella writhed in his cocoon, not quite waking but feeling the intrusion into their bedchambers all the same.
Mohg soothed, kissed his brow and held him close a moment longer before slowly separating from him. Seeping from his veins and leaving Miquella begging for him to return soon. Without Mohg's bloodflame within him the world was so painfully cold. Without Mohg beside him it was so horrifically empty.
I will deal with the tarnished intruder, and you will feast on its blood when I reign victorious. Mohg promised in that way only they could. Wordless and writ in the spaces between them.
The ice that made Miquella weak and frail without his lord was sated for only a moment by Mohg's hand in his and his lips on Miquella's wedding band before Mohg disappeared to defend his sleeping god.