They’re by the shore, listening to the sound of waves in sea-salt tinged air. Just the two of them and a beach that stretches on for miles, an ocean that goes on even further than that.

Chetzy’s on his lap, head pillowed on Sollay’s thighs as Sollay runs fingers through his hair. Lulled into contentment as Sollay plays with his curls, mussing them up and combing them back in the same breath. He watches Chetzy’s eyes close, sleepily content as Sollay runs a thumb along the base of his horn.

It’s mesmerizing, the way Chetzy’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, long and slow, in time with Sollay’s touches. Sollay moves from his horns to his ears - soft - to his cheeks - even softer - before his gaze falls on Chetzy’s mouth.

In the spur of the moment, Sollay decides he wants to stick his fingers in Chetzy's mouth.

“Chetzy,” he says softly because Chetzy’s lying at an angle, face turned to the side. Sollay pinches his cheek to get his attention. “Turn over, if you’d please.”

It’s a demand framed as a request, one Sollay makes as his matesprit and not the heir of Alternia. He might be cold-blooded royalty but he’d never expect obedience from Chetzy, not when it would make him boring. Sollay vastly prefers when Chetzy is himself, a wonderfully bright, interesting menace to society. Too much for the circuses and too much for the churches, but just enough for him.

He wishes they could be like this forever, listening to the sound of the waves as the world spins around them. It’s hard to care about breaking planets and making empires when all Sollay’s ever wanted is right there in his lap. He might as well be an heir in name only, but then again, Chetzy’s a clown cultist gone wrong. No wonder they found each other, drawn together like stars spun in a helpless orbit.

His hand cups Chetzy’s jaw, gently nudging his face up. Chetzy gives him a confused look, but he must think it’s nothing because he complies, rolling over from his side to his back. His eyes close again, waiting for Sollay to resume spoiling him with touch.

Sollay obliges because who is he not to? He runs a thumb along the edge of Chetzy’s mouth, nudges his lips apart to feel the hard edge of teeth.

Chetzy’s eyes fly open and he stares at him like he’s gone insane. There’s a contemptuous edge to his gaze as if sticking his finger in people’s mouths is below the heir of Alternia.

Sollay feels a little defensive.

It’s not that weird, he thinks. It can’t be that weird if Chetzy isn’t saying anything or turning away or getting up and leaving. He might be looking at him like he’s grown an extra head but he’s still there, isn’t he? So Sollay’s allowed to keep going, probably.

Chetzy is letting him poke around in his mouth, where he’s open and vulnerable and so very intimate. Something thick and syrupy settles in Sollay’s chest.

“Open up, Chetzy,” he says, more than a little breathless.

Chetzy does.

The rush of satisfaction Sollay gets turns his cheeks bright fuchsia. Now this is the kind of power he wants, not of status and blood, but of a lover at his mercy. He runs his thumb along Chetzy’s teeth, pressing down on the sharp edges to feel his flesh give way. It sends a jolt of heat low in his stomach, and he feels like he just discovered something new about himself.

Chetzy’s teeth are sharp at the front, sharp enough to be called fangs. Different from Sollay’s own, which are thinner, a neat row of needle-sharp points. No wonder Chetzy’s smile is sweeter than his.

Sollay moves his thumb further into Chetzy’s mouth and finds that his teeth are blunt at the back. His molars are funny, all flat and square, useless for goring fish. Sollay likes them though - the bluntness makes it so he can rub along the entire line of teeth. It feels good against the pad of his thumb, and Sollay wonders just when his hand became so sensitive.

He touches the spot where teeth meets gum and the sensation is so nice, half soft and half hard. Chetzy’s mouth is warm and wet against him, and Sollay watches his thumb move against Chetzy’s gums in quiet fascination.

Chetzy’s drooling, saliva wetting Sollay’s thumb every time he moves. Sollay presses against Chetzy’s tongue, feeling it give under his touch. It’s warm, slick, and just as nice as the sharpness of his fangs. Sollay is enraptured.

Here Chetzy is, open, pliant, and all for him. It’s a heady rush of feeling and Sollay’s breath quickens. Unconsciously, he presses forwards, nudging his thumb deeper into the back of Chetzy’s throat.

Chetzy startles, making a noise of complaint, and Sollay quickly withdraws. “Sorry,” he murmurs, but he can’t be that sorry because he goes right back to playing with Chetzy’s teeth.

A pinprick of pain, and Sollay draws his thumb back to see a drop of fuchsia beading at the tip. He looks down and Chetzy’s sulking like a purrbeast who’s been petted for too long.

“Be good,” Sollay says as he brings his thumb up to his own mouth. He’s about to lick off the blood but then he gets a better idea.

He wipes his thumb on Chetzy’s mouth and watches his lips stain fuchsia.

Chetzy licks the colour off his lips and frowns. “It’s weird,” he mutters, eyes fixed on Sollay’s hand. “Poking around in my mouth like that. What do you get out of it?”

“I like it,” Sollay says simply. Chetzy is disarmed by honesty, so it’s a good thing that Sollay is at his most honest when he’s with him. “Do it for me, please?”

An annoyed sigh, then Chetzy rolls his eyes and opens his mouth again. Sollay can see his cheeks starting to flush purple and that makes him all sorts of giddy.

There might as well be hearts in his eyes as he brings a hand up to grip Chetzy’s jaw. Just in case, because as nice as having his blood all over Chetzy’s lips was, Sollay wants this to be gentle. He wants them to be nice to each other, or as nice as they can be while Sollay has his fingers in Chetzy’s mouth.

It would be different if they were kismeses but they’re not, and Sollay doesn’t want them to be. Matesprits should be able to bask in each other’s company without bleeding out.

Sollay squeezes Chetzy’s jaw, smiling when Chetzy’s mouth opens wider, not entirely of his own accord.

“No biting his time,” Sollay says and he’s having so much fun. He’s enjoying this so much, fawning over Chetzy while he lies on his lap and lets Sollay poke the edges of his teeth. It’s a wonder he’s gone so long without a matesprit to dote on.

Sollay doesn’t have a thing for mouths or teeth - or at least, he doesn’t think he does - but it’s Chetzy and every part of him is attractive. Sollay wants to know all of him, right down to his bones.

He’s never felt like this before and it’s all so much, so overwhelming, a heady rush of red that burns him from the inside out. He’d do anything for Chetzy and it scares him. Sometimes Sollay even thinks he’d destroy Alternia for him.

After all, Sollay’s heard the tales - trolls going to war for their lovers, clawing and bleeding until they get them back. Noble, wonderful stories, except they read differently now that Sollay knows one day Chetzy might be torn away from him too.

No, not “might be.” Will be.

They serve an empire greater than themselves and Sollay has never hated his birthright more.

While they’re still together, while Sollay still has him, he has to love him as much as he can. Pressing against a fang, Sollay grounds himself on the jolt of pain going up his finger. It slides him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see Chetzy frowning at him.

Oh. Sollay didn’t mean to make him worried. He’s about to apologize when Chetzy nudges his tongue against Sollay’s fingers and makes a soothing noise in the back of his throat.

Then he closes his mouth and sucks.

Sollay goes wide-eyed, fins fluttering uncontrollably. Chetzy just looks embarrassed but pleased with himself.

“You’re so good,” Sollay says in awe. He can’t believe what Chetzy just did, even though his fingers are still being sucked on. A rush of warmth fills him, starting from his hand and going all the way through his entire body. “You’re so good to me. You like me so much.”

“I do,” Chetzy mumbles from around Sollay’s fingers and opens his mouth again. This time, his gaze is expectant.

Sollay wastes no time resuming.

He must have the best matesprit in the world. Chetzy’s been so good, so nice, so sweet, and Sollay thinks he deserves a reward for all of it. His other hand goes to Chetzy’s hair, petting and stroking in time with the fingers running along his teeth. He scratches Chetzy’s scalp like he’s a purrbeast, a particularly domesticated one. It’s an apt comparison with how Chetzy lies there, lazy and content, eyes half-lidded as Sollay pokes and prods in his mouth.

They keep going like this, Sollay’s fingers in Chetzy’s mouth until he’s satisfied. By the time he retracts them, his face is flushed a deep fuchsia. Chetzy’s is bright purple too, the two of them almost matching.

He looks so good like this, after Sollay’s had his way with his mouth for what feels like an eternity. Jaw slack, lips shiny, mouth still hanging open as he looks up at Sollay. Sollay takes in his dazed expression, eyes unfocused like he’s drunk on Sollay’s touch. And still, Chetzy’s staring at Sollay like he’s the only thing he sees.

“Thank you, Chetzy,” Sollay says and he can’t hide how pleased he is. It’s on every inch of his face, every sound his voice makes. He smiles down at him, full of so many red feelings he thinks he might burst.

Chetzy rolls over, arms reaching to wrap around Sollay’s waist. He buries his face in Sollay’s stomach before speaking, voice muffled. “Don’t mention it.”

Sollay beams.