Chapter Text
The Wild Hunt couldn’t help his maniacal laugh as the Edgar Family Heir collapsed to the ground after their long fight. Heathcliff was covered all over in stab wounds and sabre slashes, but the heir was in much worse shape, covered head to toe in bruises. Finally, the hunt was over, and as usual Heathcliff had won. Except that this would be their final hunt, as now the Heir would join his wild hunt once and for all. Now there was one last thing they needed to do, a tribute of celebration. The same thing they always did when he won a fight. To have a ‘dance’ together.
Heathcliff plunged his blade into the ground next to Gregor’s neck, laughing. He began to undo the buckle on his pants, eagerly eyeing the bruises all over the pale beauty he’d caught himself. He had been very careful with the frail man in their fight, careful to only hit him with the blunt side of his sword, to not hit anywhere vital too hard. He would make the heir join his wild hunt, whether he liked it or not, but he needed him alive. He wouldn’t make a good stress relief toy if he were dead.
Gregor sneered at him, too beaten to even be able to raise his remaining hand up to stop him. “You disgusting pig...!”
“Oh cut the shite, Edgar. You’ve never denied me before. How many of your hunts for me ended in you bent over with your face in the dirt screaming my name? I’ve always given you a choice whether I fuck you or just leave you beaten out here, and you’ve chosen me every time.” The Wild Hunt huffed, leaning down to lick a stripe up his neck, just to feel him shudder. “Are you really going to deny me one last ‘dance’ before I make you mine forever? Before I add you to my Wild Hunt?”
Gregor’s pale face, luminous like marble in the moonlight, went pink at his words, and a frustrated growl left him as he started to grind his hips into Heathcliff’s. “...Fine.” He had lost, after all. The hunt was over. If he could have a bit of pleasure before this beast did whatever he pleased to him, he’d take it. Besides, nothing he said was false. His every hunt for the beast hadled to him getting pounded into a cummy heap until he passed out and left at the manor’s front door. He couldn’t deny that he wanted it. He couldn’t deny that this beast knew how to make him feel good like no one else.
“Good boy. I’ll make a fine pet out of you yet. You’re more useful to me alive, so just relax and let me use you as a cocksleeve.” Heathcliff chuckled, tearing the Heir’s pants and boxers down. “That’s all you’re good for, anyway.” He gets the Heir’s pants and underwear all the way off him, and undoes his shirt enough to see those nice big tits of his. He’s even prettier when he’s covered in all colors of bruises like the finest painting. He was sure to strike his thighs during the fight, just to make sure one of the finest parts of his high class body got some bruises too.
Heathcliff fishes out his cock and uses the blood from one of his rapier wounds to slick himself up, before pushing into his tight pussy. “Oh, you’re wet. You’re getting used to me fucking you after we fight, aren’t you? Getting all slicked up for me just in anticipation.”
Gregor groaned at the massive stretch, at the utter pain of having his above-average cock in him with no prep, but wings did he love it. He painstakingly raised a hand to his shoulder, digging his nails into it. He spits on Heathcliff’s face, sneering. “You’re such a freak. A beast.”
Heathcliff doesn’t even flinch, instead forcing his fingers into his mouth. “What does that make you, then, to agree to let me fuck you?” He forces his mouth open and spits into it with a grin. “You’re a beast too. A pathetic little rabbit that thought he could take on a wolf and win. A stupid little bunny whose only purpose is to get used as a fleshlight and bred full of kits.”
Gregor bares his teeth at him, but he tightens up on him and gets wetter at his words and subtly swallows what he’s given. “Bastard.” He spits out the words at him.
“Whore.” Heathcliff spits back, and decides that’s more than enough time to let Gregor adjust. He grabs Gregor by the hair and pulls hard, dragging him into a rough kiss as he starts to pound into him at a rough, brutal pace. He’s gripping his tit with purposeful tightness-- he wants to leave a hand shaped bruise right there on that huge beast of his, right over his heart, so all he has to do to remind him who he belongs to is to pull his shirt up and make him flash everyone. “Whether you like it or not, you belong to me.” He growls into his lips. He drops his hair and grabs at his stump of a right arm, squeezing hard enough to bruise there too. “I marked you as mine in a way you can’t erase no matter what you do, no matter how high quality the prosthetic you buy.”
Gregor bites wildly at his lips, and reaches his hand up to tear off that eyepatch, digging his fingers into the empty socket. “You forget that you’re mine too. I stabbed that worthless heather eye of yours right out of your skull.” He laughs into their rough kiss, dragging his nails down his face and leaving bleeding lines.
“Perhaps, but now I own you. Now you can never hunt me again. From now on you’re my servant and faithful pet. I’ll host my very own banquet in that accursed manor, and you’ll be my arm candy.” Heathcliff didn’t even flinch, only leaning down to bite his neck hard enough to bleed as he fucked him into him brutally. “Maybe I’ll even get you some bunny ears too, just to make it clear who the influential and beautiful Young Master is to me.” His voice is dripping with... something Gregor doesn’t want to identify.
Gregor can’t stop a whine from leaving his throat at the rough biting, at the words, at the odd mix of affection contempt and obsession in his words, everything. The moans are being punched out of him at a rapid pace as the Wild Hunt slams into his sweet spot every single time. Heathcliff has long since memorized where it is, has long since learned everything that turns him on. “Ahhhn~... F-fuck you...”
“Oh but you’re so much more beautiful when you’re lying there taking it. You seem much more at home getting bred like the stupid little bunny you are.” Heathcliff chuckled, kissing him hard again, biting at his lips and pulling at his hair while his other hand squeezed his tit hard. It was already purpling up in the shape of his large hand, just like he wanted.
Gregor only moaned more in response, unable to help his moans, not wanting to grace him with a response to that. His breathing grew heavy as he fucked his hips back into his thrusts, moaning and whining at his hair being pulled, getting lost in their wild sex.
Heathcliff started letting out his own grunts and moans as Gregor got tighter and wetter for him, as he focused on the sound of that rich voice moaning like crazy, all for him. He was getting lost in the kiss too, shoving his tongue in his mouth as he started to pet that silky long hair.
Gregor’s breath hitched as a sweeter moan came out of him, throwing his only arm around Heathcliff and pulling him closer, tongue dancing with his as he deepened the kiss.
Slowly their pace slowed a little, became less frantic and rough, and Heathcliff began groping his body more gently, not so bruising, exploring it greedily with his hands, admiring it like it was the last time he would touch it. The Heir had always had a soft, unmarred chubby body with porcelain skin, every inch of it screaming wealth. A body that Heathcliff had long wanted under him, in his hands.
Their kiss slowed too, much more passionate and careful and deep, Heathcliff rutting into him lovingly as he cupped his face and brushed over his cheek with a thumb. They both moaned to each other, back and forth, their voices fueling each other, lost in their own little world, just the two of them, where they could be alone together for all eternity.
Heathcliff pulled back just a bit, opening his eye and gazing into Gregor’s blissed out golden eyes. And as he softly kissed him, thumbing his cheek, all he could think was ‘Gorgeous.’ He’d always thought his eyes were the finest golden jewels in the whole damn City.
Then he realized where he was and who he was kissing so tenderly, and he grabbed Gregor’s hair in his hand and yanked his head back, biting back onto his neck hard enough to bleed again, pace turning utterly animalistic once again as he fucked into him with an utter vengeance.
Gregor screamed out his name, tightening up on him and cumming with a choked moan, fisting his hand in Heathcliff’s long hair helplessly. “HEATHCLIFF!! Fuck!” He sobbed out, moans forced out of him as Heathcliff fucked him right through his orgasm, even more brutal than he had been before.
“That’s it, scream my name, cry for me, give up everything for me, be mine for all eternity!” Heathcliff left more bleeding bites all over his throat, fucking him rapidly, completely chasing his own pleasure now, with no concern for his ‘worst enemy.’
“Heathcliff, Heathcliff, Heathcliff, please, fuck!!” Gregor’s words had become wounded and pleading, the fight fucked right out of him. “Breed me, please, I’m your stupid bunny, please don’t stop!!”
“Never. And now that you’re mine we’ll do this every single damn day. You’re my personal set of holes from now on!” Heathcliff grunted, and shoved in one last time, groaning and growling loudly as he came deep inside him.
Gregor screamed loud enough to crack his voice as he came again, squirting around him, before his eyes rolled back in his head and the physically weak man passed out.
Heathcliff spent quite some time rutting gently into his unconscious body, caressing his body with his hands, before he finally slowed. He pulled back, admiring how the heir looked in the light of the full moon, softly petting that long silky brown hair that he so admired him. He’d always thought Gregor was so utterly beautiful since the moment he saw him. So much so it filled him with utter envy.
Perhaps Gregor was the someone he so strongly desired to pour his heart out to at the end of the hunt. The one who started this unending flame of rage in his heart. It disgusted him to think, but why else would he find himself so often during their ‘dances’ doing this, treating him tenderly whenever he lost himself in the dance?
Had he forgotten a moment between them that started this war? What in the world could it be? Why in the world did he kill his sister? It had to be for some reason, of course. Was it for all the times Gregor provoked him and let him get beat up by Hindley just for Gregor to scream at Hindley to stop with those awful fake tears in his eyes? Or was it something else?
His eyes caught sight of the ring on his finger. Was it possible that... he had loved him at one point?
It didn’t matter. It was just an illusion of goodness to make him feel bad for his justified rampage. It didn’t matter what started this fire, and it didn’t matter if it was Gregor or not. Gregor was his forever now. He would see this hunt to the end, with his captured rabbit at his side. And that was that.
Pulling out, Heathcliff tucked himself back in his pants and wrapped his long tattered coat around the beaten pale beauty below him, bundling the heir up tight as he carried his precious package and his broadsword back towards that accursed manor atop Dullahan.