Work Text:
Phil doesn’t know how long he’s been here.
Drifting in and out of a pleasant haze, he lies weak in his room, half-buried in blankets and pillows and Techno’s old clothes. His half-naked body is wrapped in the soft fur of the piglin’s cloak, his nose burrowed into the soft white fluff that lines the hood. Soft warbles and chirps spill from his lips, his gaze half-lidded and blurry and heated as he stares up at the ceiling, imagining strong arms holding him, pinning him to the bed by his shoulders, fingers curling around his neck and squeezing and…
God, he’s so fucked.
His wings splay out around him, flapping weakly as he rides out his heat alone. The room smells of slick and sweat and the overwhelming scent of vanilla and green tea, and he wishes desperately for cinnamon instead, for the rich scent of campfire and blood and spice he’s come to associate with his best friend. His head tips back, a breathy moan escaping him as his head thumps back against the pillows, his eyes squeezing shut, Technoblade’s name on his lips as his body shudders and shakes, legs squeezing tight around the pillow between his thighs. His back arches, every inch of him burning as he spills over the edge, the knot in his belly finally releasing, a cry filling the silence alongside his ragged gasps and moans. His thighs are soaked, the pillow squelching between them as he twitches and spasms and gasps to the thought of Technoblade’s snout between them, cold and wet, his tongue darting out to rasp between his folds with animalistic hunger, eating Phil out like a starved man.
“Fuck,” Phil breathes as he comes down from his high, his feathers prickling uncomfortably, the air in his room hot and hazy and stinking with the smell of sex. His tongue darts out to greedily wet his lips, his head lolling to the side to stare out at the window. It’s nearly dawn, the pale pink of morning just beginning to crest over the horizon. He’s been at this for hours, unable to satiate his thirst, every orgasm leaving him longing for more, to be filled and fucked until he’s no more than a moaning, squirming mess in the sheets, to be held down and railed until the only thing he can thinking of is the warmth between his legs and in his belly, until his guts are twisted and rearranged and he’ll be limping for days after with the phantom pain of a piglin cock in him.
He moans at that, his fever renewed. There’ll be no sleep for him, not while his partner is at rest in the next cabin over, fast asleep in the throes of hibernation. It’s rare that their cycles fall out of sync, but the piglin’s time in the prison had devastated their schedules. He’s not even sure Techno knew what was coming before he burrowed beneath the blankets to sleep for a month, but Phil had. He’d thought he could ride it out alone, but now, as he plunges his own fingers between his teeth and imagines they’re something larger, he’s quickly realizing he’s bitten off much more than he can chew.
Thank god Ranboo and Niki don’t visit the commune much anymore, because he’s pretty sure he’s screaming as he bucks and twists and thrashes his way toward the edge, only to be unable to throw himself over. He can’t reach it on his own, not even as he shoves three fingers inside and strains for the spot within. His claws brush it, sending electricity shooting through his nerves, but it’s nothing next to what he so desperately needs. His fingers aren’t enough, his toys pitiful in comparison to the heat of something real and pulsing. His entrance throbs at the thought of his partner’s length, another moan of Technoblade’s name escaping him before he can bite it back.
He needs Techno. He needs him inside of him, needs to be held down and manhandled and choked until he sees spots and he forgets his own name.
But Technoblade is asleep.
Technoblade is asleep.
Phil’s fingers falter, sticky with slick, still wedged between his thighs. His eyes dart toward the trapdoor, toward the ladder and the front of his house and the bridge that connects his home to Techno’s.
It’s not the first time he’s considered it. But it’s certainly the first time it’s ever seemed so enticing. He thinks of the piglin, snoring away without a care beneath the blankets. His tongue darts out again as he thinks of pulling down trousers to envelope a hardening red cock, choking it down even as his husband sleeps on, oblivious. Phil imagines the noises he could coax out of the piglin when his guard is down, the same noises he only normally gets during his ruts.
He’s out of his bed before he can hesitate any longer. His legs are wobbly as he pads across the wooden floor on bare feet, drawing Techno’s cloak tight around his slender frame. He leaves behind the steamy warmth of his cabin and braves the short distance across the bridge with naught but the cloak around his shoulders to protect his bare skin from the cold. The normal paranoia he’d feel at being so exposed is gone, lost to the frantic desperation of his heat-addled brain, the only thought on his mind being the incoming relief of finally filling himself up with something other than his fingers.
He locks the cabin door behind him. His mouth is nearly watering as he pulls himself up the ladder with shaking arms, toward the corner of the upstairs he knows his husband is resting. And surely enough, there he is, his snout wrinkled and squished against the pillow, his ear twitching occasionally in his sleep…
His legs, tangled in the blankets, his lower half exposed and there for the taking.
Phil sinks to his knees beside the bed, glancing only briefly up at the piglin’s sleeping face, cooing softly at the soft smile he sees there. This is something they’ve discussed before, but it still feels wrong, as though Phil is crossing some sort of line between them. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when the heat between his legs is throbbing and he hasn’t been able to think straight for days, never truly finding the release he needs. Techno is his, and he’d offered all of himself up to Phil all those years ago, heart and soul and body.
Phil is a greedy, greedy man.
He tugs at the waistband of Techno’s trousers, pulling them down around his ankles in one swift movement. The piglin is wearing boxers beneath, and Phil has been patient this long, so what’s a little longer? He mouths at the fabric, at the softness beneath, dampening it with little kitten licks until the piglin’s dick begins to harden and twitch beneath, slowly rising until it tents, straining against the shorts. Phil croons in delight and continues his teasing, his hands burying beneath Techno’s tunic to trace the fur along his belly, teasing his abs and even exploring high enough to gently tweak one of his nipples. Phil could do this all day, showering his piglin in love and affection, worshiping his body, but today is Phil’s day, and he’s waited months without this, and damn it, he’s allowed to be selfish.
The boxers are next to go, and with a shuddering sigh, Phil pulls himself up onto the bed to sit across Technoblade’s lap, the length of the piglin’s cock resting between his folds. He rocks his hips, letting it slide between them, slick wetting it until it’s shiny and red and delicious looking. He can’t resist getting a taste, pushing himself back down and wrapping his lips around it without a second thought. He moans appreciatively as it stretches his mouth wide, just as long and thick as he’d remembered. The tip bumps against the back of Phil’s throat and he nearly chokes, out of practice after being on his own for so long. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he doesn’t back down, lowering himself down onto it until his nose is buried in curly pink fur and Techno’s cock is halfway down his throat. He reaches curiously up, and—yep, there’s a bump in his throat, pushing out against the skin, and when he presses down he can feel Techno. He moans, the thought very nearly enough to make him cum untouched.
But Phil’s gotten this far, and he’s not leaving without getting what he wanted. He bobs up and down a few times on Technoblade’s cock, only enough to thoroughly wet it before pulling off. He drags himself back up, grinding against the piglin’s thigh before hovering above. With careful fingers, he grasps his husband’s length, lining it carefully up with his entrance, circling the tip once, twice before pushing it in, just enough to make his hole spasm and twitch and his head tip back with a gasp. He waits only a second longer before sinking down, lowering himself slowly, splitting himself open on the thick piglin cock with a sultry moan.
It’s heavenly. He’s missed this so much; the way Techno fills every inch of him, pressing against every spot that makes him feel good. He’s so big, bigger than anything Phil had ever taken in his youth, and he’s taken a lot . Humans, hybrids, the lot, trying everything and everyone he could when he was young, delighting in pleasures of life until he’d finally settled down amidst war and strife and the ruling of a nation.
Until he’d met Technoblade.
And god, what a catch Technoblade was.
He’s moving now, rocking his hips, circling the cock around in his insides, pushing it as deep as he can, pressing it up against his cervix. Technoblade’s cock is massive, fully piglin in every way, reaching depths no other could, pressing so hard and so far that Phil swears he can nearly feel it in his throat. And it’s so good, better than he ever dreamed, and the slow drag of it against his walls as he braces himself and lifts is like something out of a dream.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Missed you so much, Techno. Missed you in me, missed you filling me up so good.” He drops back down, harder this time, and it punches the air from his lungs in a wild, desperate keen. His legs are slippery and wet, trails of slick hanging from the piglin’s cock, stringing between his folds and his thighs and the piglin’s fur, and it’s one of the hottest damn things he’s ever seen. He increases his pace, rolling his hips and bucking and dropping up and down with all the fervor of a bitch in heat. It feels like his insides are melting, noises falling unbidden from his lips with every twitch of Techno’s cock inside of him. His piglin’s head is rolling amidst the pillows, eyelids fluttering but never opening as he loses himself in whatever heated dream he’s now having, his nostrils flaring and his tucks bared, grunting as Phil lifts himself and drops himself down again and again.
The sounds of skin slapping against skin and the heavy stench of sex fill the air, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon twisting together along with the rankness of sweat and slick. Techno’s claws clench unconsciously against Phil’s hips and he leans into it, letting the piglin score marks down his skin, claiming him. Phil takes what is rightfully his, surging forward to crash his lips against Techno’s, sloppy and wet, tangling his tongue in the piglin’s mouth until their teeth clack harshly together. He tugs at his husband’s ear and the piglin’s hips buck, thrusting up into Phil’s heat and dragging a wail from the bird’s lips.
“God,” Phil gasps, drawing back to pant for breath even as his hips shudder and shake, his tail feathers flaring out across the bed, positively dripping. “Fuck, Techno, you feel so good. You’re doing so good, filling me up so nice, breeding me so good.” The praises fall from his lips, meaningless and wanton, heavy with lust and dripping with the promise of so much more to come. “My mate, my handsome mate, so big and perfect just for me.”
He lifts his hips up and slams them back down. It’s starting to hurt now, a steady ache in his thighs from doing all the work, but he’s so close. There’s a coil in his belly wound tight, tensing more and more with every thrust of Techno’s hips, and he chases it recklessly, throwing his head back with a warble that sounds more like a scream. His wings flap wildly against his back—once, twice, thrice—and then he’s falling over the edge, his entire body convulsing with the force of his release, his nails dragging down Techno’s chest and ripping through his shirt, his thighs squeezing around the cock inside of him as he shudders and shakes and falls apart.
And then he feels it, hot, wet warmth spilling inside of him, filling him up to the brim. It’s accompanied by the swelling of his piglin’s knot, a stretch that burns in all the right ways, catching on his rim and holding him there. He’s locked in place, and he loves it, grinding his hips down just to feel the dazzling mix of pleasure and pain of overstimulation, his walls clenching around Techno and milking him for everything he has. He takes it all, the greedy little bird that he is, his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his entrance throbbing around the length stuffed inside. He’s pretty sure he’s drooling, his tongue poking between his lips, but he can’t bring himself to care, not when the burn in his belly is finally gone, not when he’s finally gotten everything he’s been craving for months.
And then he hears it: a low rumble, deep and heavy and threatening. The hands around his hips tighten, claws digging into his porcelain skin, and when his eyes open they’re met with red, sleep-dazed and groggy but awake.
“Hey, Phil,” Technoblade says, low and thoughtful and predatory, and Phil knows at that very moment that he’s fucked up.
And god, he’s looking forward to it.
“Miss me?” Technoblade murmurs, and Phil very nearly keens at the sound of his voice, tightening around him and pulling a groan from his piglin’s lips. “God, you’re eager, aren’t you? Couldn’t wait for me, birdy? Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself?”
“Missed you so much, Techno,” Phil babbles with another roll of his hips, desperately rutting forward for any kind of friction as the fire lights anew in his belly. But Technoblade squeezes his hips and pins him there, forcing him back down on his cock and holding him still. Phil very nearly sobs. “Techno, missed you, need you—need you now, need my mate, please—!”
“Patience, birdy,” the piglin growls, with a sharp smack to Phil’s ass, just below his tail feathers. “You need this? Need me?” Phil nods frantically, his wings shuddering behind him, his skin smarting and his hips canting forward in Technoblade’s grasp. “So desperate, so needy, just for me. My angel, so perfect, so naughty. Fucking yourself on my cock in my sleep, so impatient you couldn’t wait just a while longer.”
“‘M sorry, so sorry—Techno, please.”
“Dripping like a slut, ruining my sheets with your slick. So messy. You didn’t tell me your heat was coming up, birdy.” A hand grasps Phil’s chin, tilting it up to trace the old, scarred bite mark on his neck. It’s been months since he was marked, and he willingly bares his neck to his mate, incoherent pleas and chirps falling from his lips. “I’m disappointed. You’ve been bad, Phil. What makes you think a naughty bird deserves to get what he wants?”
“I’m sorry,” Phil gasps out again, yelping as another strike lands against his skin. “Needed you—needed you so bad, Techno. Couldn’t wait, needed you to fill me up. Hurt so bad, Techno.”
The piglin’s gaze softens, but only a little. His grip tightens, and then the world lurches as Phil is thrown back against the covers, his wings splaying out to either side, the knot ripping free from him with a splatter across his belly. Technoblade rips the tattered shirt free from his chest before crawling overtop of him, bracing his hands on either side of Phil’s head and staring him down.
Suddenly, Phil feels very hunted.
“Naughty birds deserve to be punished, Phil,” the piglin growls, fisting one hand in his feathers. Phil’s back arches, his toes curling as the pain pulls a wail from his lungs. It hurts so good, his eyes rolling back into his skull, his wings shuddering beneath his mate’s grip. Every touch is like lightning as the piglin’s hands explore his neglected wings, twisting and tugging just enough to make him see stars. A wet nose presses against his neck, snuffling and licking at their bonding mark but never once biting, even as Phil sobs and pleads for him to.
“Techno—Techno, please, god, fuck me,” he begs, tears in his eyes as his mate taunts and teases, his hard member pressing shamelessly against Phil’s thigh.
“I don’t know,” Techno taunts. He pinches Phil’s ass, laughing as Phil yelps and squawks and wiggles for more. “I don’t think you deserve it yet, Phil.”
Phil whines, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. He’s openly crying now, lost in his desperation, and he very nearly misses the press of Technoblade’s hands against his thighs.
Nearly.
His legs spread indulgently, exposing his hole, slippery and sloppy with slick and cum. Technoblade, however, has other plans. He flips Phil over, pinning him easily down between his wings, pushing his head into the mattress with enough force to make the bones in his neck creak.
“Ass up,” he snarls. “Now. Don’t be cute about it.”
Phil complies, and the piglin’s quick to wedge himself between his legs, grabbing at his cheeks and pulling them apart. Something hot and stiff ruts between his folds, sliding teasingly through them, poking and prodding at his entrance but painfully avoiding what he so desperately needs. Phil rocks his hips back greedily, but a fist closes in the down at the base of his neck and pulls.
“None of that,” Techno snaps, with another thrust of his length between Phil’s thighs, just close enough to be taunting. Phil chokes back a sob, muffling his face into the blankets, fists clenching at his sides and tangling in the sheets. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready, birdy. You just sit there and look pretty.”
“Techno,” Phil moans, his brain too fuzzy to think of much else. “Techno, please. Need you. Need you right now, hurts so bad.”
“Almost, angel,” Technoblade murmurs, his expression softening momentarily as he leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss between his wings. He lifts Phil’s hips up a little higher, before leaning down and sinking his teeth in hard, piercing into the soft flesh of his ass enough to draw blood. He licks apologetically over it as Phil keens, sparks shooting through his veins with every rasping brush of Technoblade’s tongue against his skin.
“Mine. All mine. My beautiful birdy, all riled up just for me,” Technoblade praises, his breath hot against Phil’s hole. “So wet, so needy. Nobody else gets to see you this way—never again, all mine.”
“All yours,” Phil agrees, head lolling and wings fluttering. “Fuck. All yours—only for you, always for you.”
“Good boy,” Technoblade murmurs, and the praise goes straight to Phil’s guts, a burning heat like fire as he presses eagerly back against the piglin, his mate’s tip catching on his entrance with the movement. “God, you’re being so patient, Phil. So good for me. But I need you to do one last thing for me, okay birdy?”
“Anything,” Phil gasps.
“Beg for it.”
And Phil moans. He tips his head to the side, his cheeks pressed into sweaty, rumpled sheets, staring up at Technoblade with glassy eyes and fever-flushed cheeks. With what little strength he has left, he arches his back just a little more, swaying his hips invitingly, fanning his tail feathers to reveal his entrance, puffy and dripping with slick, ready for the taking.
“Fuck me, Techno,” he pants, gaze half-lidded and voice beginning to slur with want. “Fuck me. Please. I need you—need you in me, need you to fill me up and stuff me with your cum. I need you to breed me, want your knot, please. Wanna be so full of your cum, want you to fuck me ‘til I’m full of your piglets, please.”
“Fuck, Phil,” Technoblade breathes, and in one swift movement buries himself to the hilt inside of him.
Phil screams.
His wings flare, feathers bristling, his eyes rolling back in his skull, and that’s all the answer Technoblade needs. He sets a ruthless pace, pounding into Phil with the force of a bull, the bed creaking beneath him with every hard, heavy thrust. Each one makes Phil see stars, hitting right up against that special spot that reduces him to nothing more than a mess of slurred chirps and warbles, his nails ripping the sheets to shreds in his grasp. He can feel the piglin’s balls slapping against him with every thrust, hot and heavy, Technoblade’s breath warm against his neck as he bends him over, fucking him into the mattress.
“So good, Phil,” the piglin growls, with a particularly hard thrust that makes Phil shudder. “God, you’re so fucking pretty, all fucked out on my cock.”
Phil tries to respond, but all that comes out is Technoblade’s name, the syllables clumsy and jumbled on his tongue.
“Gonna breed you so good,” Technoblade promises, driving deep into Phil, hard and fast and everything Phil had dreamed of. He doesn’t let up for a second, rutting into Phil like a wild animal, mounting him like the bitch in heat that he is, making the bed rock beneath them so hard the headboard bangs into the wall with every thrust. “God, you’re so tight. Feels like you’re sucking me in, so greedy for my cum.”
Phil just moans. Technoblade’s hand finds its way to his hair and pulls, yanking his head back and away from the sheets.
“Needy little slut, fucking me in me sleep. Gonna teach you a lesson. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t walk anymore.” Phil’s knees nearly give out at the force of the next thrust, Technoblade’s dick burying so deep in his guts he swears he can feel it in his stomach. “Gonna fuck you ‘til you forget everything but my name. You’re mine, Phil. Say it.”
“Yours,” Phil wails. “All yours!”
The hand in his hair tightens, twisting. Technoblade’s thrusts are losing their rhythm now, but they’re no less punishing, every thrust making him scrabble for purchase, pushing him across the bed.
“Gonna fill you up,” Techno snarls. “Gonna fill you all the way. Gonna give you everything.”
“Please.”
“Gonna stuff you up—can’t wait to see your belly all full of my cum.” He pulls all the way out and slams back in, making Phil scream anew. “Gonna breed you, Phil. Gonna stuff you full of my piglets. Gonna breed you like the bitch that you are, only good to carry my litter. Just a bitch in heat, ready to take my cum, isn’t that right?”
Phil whimpers, cumming a second time. It’s weaker this time, a shiver running through his body, his wings ruffling only slightly unlike the full-body spasm he’d endured earlier. But Technoblade doesn’t stop for a moment. He barely even slows. He fucks Phil right into overstimulation, until Phil is sobbing and begging with need, pulling away and pushing back into it all at once.
And then Technoblade slams home and cums, burying his load deep in Phil’s aching hole, scalding hot liquid painting his insides; his knot tying them together, ensuring not a single drop escapes. Technoblade flops across his mate, but not before sinking his tusks deep into his neck, right across the mark that claims Phil as his. The gesture makes a new wave of cum spurt out, hot and sloppy against Phil’s insides, and as Technoblade curls around him, Phil can feel a bump beginning to form, truly filled to the brim with the piglin’s seed. Technoblade cants his hips lazily forward, even as his cum begins to slow, lapping possessively over his mark and twisting Phil’s face to meet him in a heated kiss, wet and sloppy and loving.
“You did so well,” he murmurs, even as Phil sobs in his arms, shuddering from overstimulation. His hole clenches and unclenches around Techno’s knot, even as the piglin pulls him sideways and up against his chest, finally allowing his hips to settle back down into something more comfortable. “That’s it, Phil. So good for me. You did so well, I’m so proud.”
Phil coos sleepily, squeezing his thighs together as one last spurt of come buries itself in him.
“I love you,” Technoblade murmurs. “My beautiful mate, so good, so perfect.” He rocks lazily forward, fucking his cum deeper into Phil, making sure not a single spot goes untouched. “You did so good, Phil. Waited for me for so long. So patient, so good.”
“Missed you,” Phil mumbles, pressing his cheek to Techno’s as the other leans around his shoulder. “Don’t leave me like that again, you fucking—”
Technoblade cuts him off with a kiss, long and passionate and wanting, licking up into Phil’s mouth, who willingly parts his lips and allows the piglin total control. They kiss for what feels like hours, lazy and languid and blissful, Phil wrapped up in his mate’s arms and pulled close to his chest, his wings sandwiched uncomfortably between them. He doesn’t mind, though, not when Techno is still buried deep inside of him, warm and wet, filling him all the way up and stretching him to his limits. He keeps Techno warm even as the knot begins to recede, and when the piglin eventually pulls out with a squelch, Phil lets out a petulant, protesting sound. Technoblade shushes him softly, and his warm weight disappears for a brief moment, accompanied by the sliding of his bedside drawer.
And then the bed dips behind him, and strong arms turn him onto his back, carefully rearranging his wings around him. He’s cradled to a broad chest, half-dazed and utterly blissed out, and when Technoblade’s hooves brush against his thighs he obediently spreads them again. Technoblade’s fingers slip into him, pushing the cum back into his body even as it tries to drip out of his puffy, abused hole and down his thighs. He scoops it back into him, and when there’s nothing left Technoblade pushes a plug into Phil’s waiting hole, sealing it up and locking the cum inside of him.
“Not wasting a single drop,” he murmurs, pulling Phil in for another kiss. Phil indulgently loops his wrists around the piglin’s neck, humming into the kiss. The heat in his belly has all but faded, his hunger satiated by Technoblade’s knot. For the first time in days, he can think straight, blissful relief crashing over him and leaving him touch-starved and needy, but mercifully, finally exhausted , ready to sleep until the next morning. He’s begun to nod off, his eyes fluttering shut as the piglin’s claws comb through his tangled hair and as sharp tusks nip greedily at his lips. But his mate is quick to catch on, his steady rumbling deepening into a soothing purr as he pulls away, thumbing at Phil’s bruised lips. Technoblade braces Phil behind his shoulders and beneath his knees, scooping him upward and close to his chest, lifting him free of the sticky sheets.
“Guessing your bed isn’t much better,” he rumbles, to which Phil sheepishly shakes his head. “Alright. Gonna run you a bath, and then I’ll clean this mess up. Have you eaten anything?” When Phil shakes his head, the piglin’s brow creases in worry. “Nothing at all since this started? God. Can’t leave you alone for a day, can I, angel?” Phil avoids his gaze, suddenly feeling rather foolish. Technoblade sighs and shakes his head, hefting Phil a little closer. “That’s all right, I’ll get you something light to start with. You just relax.”
“…Thanks,” Phil manages, with another sleepy coo as he’s carried toward the bathroom. “Love you, Techno.”
Technoblade smiles fondly down at him.
“Love you too, Phil.”