Chapter Text
Hrid awoke to the sound of jingling metal and crackling fire. As he fought against the lull of stupor, he tried to rack his memories: a cavalry pursuit, a clash, Nifl’s protection through the might of icy Gjoll, numbers of opposing soldiers dropping one after the other, a rain of flaming arrows and finally: Surtr himself, impenetrable, invincible, overflowing with the blessing of Muspell. Sweat dripped from his chin upon the realization: despite the initial advantage he thought he had, he was eventually overwhelmed.
It was a risky gambit he banked upon and through infiltration, he learned about the Rite of Flames. He also deduced there is a wild card at play, hailing from neither kingdoms, keeping Muspell one step ahead of them. All that intel, but he was unable to accomplish his actual goal of ending the king of flames in an unexpected one fell swoop.
He trusted his siblings to be more than capable in case all plans went into flames, but first, he needed to focus on the current problem at hand: metal shackles on either hands, armor and longsword missing, some skin burnt through his tattered gambeson. He surveyed the area - a room walled with yellowed granite rocks, bars of metal separating the room from his area to another partition where a wooden table and chairs stood alongside some barrels, torches lightning up the space and providing a rather less comfortable warmth. He is a captive.
“Ey lookie over her, our prince’s awake” jeered one of the prison guards. In no time, about four soldiers flocked over him in delight like hyenas stalking their prey. Amidst rowdy sneers and mocking cheering, Hrid felt tipped to his side by a foot, and through the chains on his wrist, forced up into a somewhat between kneeling and dangling stance. He wished to spit back a remark but only mustered a piercing wordless glare.
“How about we give ourselves a little fun time with him eh before milord arrives? Eh? Eh?” Hrid’s eyes widened as he felt something wet gliding by his neck, hot breath by his ear, and a hand below, grabbing both and all of his manhood through the fabric. Through jeers, he attempted to somewhat struggle his head free from the groping, only for a hand to cover his mouth, rendering him even more helpless. Heavy his legs may be, he tried to force a knee to another’s stomach, only for him to be restrained again by another arm. He felt pressure through the fabric by his behind which started to grind on him, earning a gasp, and despite mustering all of his will against it, his own member grew in a half mast. A mocking cheer erupted from his side as hands grabbed his waistband until-
“Shifts over ye bastards, Lord Surtr wants your asses to take care of a new platoon. We got pesky Askrian flies buzzing about,” a large man wielding an axe lined with a blade of volcanic rock, booms inside the room.
Covered in a few patches of soot and some bloody stains, the general seemed to be just back from battle. The cell was immediately vacated by the guards, all spouting complaints but followed their superior anyway. With a firm glance, his eyes met Hrid, then proceeded to linger through his pathetic form, disheveled clothes and pants barely hanging on his hips before remarking, “He’s not going anywhere anyway. King might still need him, orders above.” Ignoring banter from the guards, Helbindi - the name he heard from the grunts, took one more stoic look at him, then trailed the others.
With a metallic thud of the chamber doors, Hrid was alone.
—
Hours have passed and Hrid never found respite from the stance he was left in when the chains were locked overhead. He closed his eyes in surrender, maybe the exhaustion will allow him to pass out there despite dangling. No use, his arm muscles were stretched, legs awkwardly keeping him upright, there was no way to rest. He opened his eyes and noticed: was the room unusually darker than before? He scanned the area. One of the ever burning torches was extinguished.
The sound of footsteps tapped beside him. The door remained closed.
“Hah, what do we have here. An offering?”
Hrid turned his head and came face to face with a man clad in red, the edges of his arms glowing hot orange like live coals. His hair flickered like candlelight, as if barely holding on a breeze. A fanged grin, and a familiar presence, one that he had felt on the battlefield…
The man bent down to examine him, hand with talon-like nails cupped his chin, he noted, “You reek of Nifl’s blood, not a spawn for sure but - ah yes, the fool did share her dragon blood to that mortal. What a waste,” chuckling, the threw the prince’s head to face sidewards, “Pathetic, a royal descendant, a prisoner? All in chains?”
Hrid inhaled deeply, swallowing a gasp, “Y-you, impossible.”
“Consider yourself lucky to be within my presence. Flame-manifest, the lifeblood of this land, Muspell,” his hair flickered feebly despite the rather grandiose brag. The god circled around him, eyeing him from head to toe, smoke smoldering from his body, “If it weren’t for that damned Nifl, you wouldn’t be even here to lay eyes on my full glory, not even ashes would remain.”
History dictates both Nifl and Muspell were rendered back to their respective natures of frost and flame, unable to take form like they did before. The god may still well be recovering, but the mere fact he is present does not bode well.
The air became heavy and breathing turned difficult. Muspell stopped in front of the prince and grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to meet his eye, “Seems like my mortals already enjoyed themselves with you eh? Feeding into their primal instincts - aside from the grand display of power through battle they brought upon to your land, good, good, that is how you humans should be,” Muspell moved him down to his hips.
“Maybe I could make good use of the essence your god gave you, that should be amusing.”
Before Hrid knew it, his face was met with two dicks at half mast, wrapped with the same thin fissure-like dark markings decorating the god’s shoulders and torso. Muspell dropped his scarlet cloak and with another hand by the prince’s cheek, he forced his mouth open to receive one of the massive dicks.
The prince choked, only mustering incoherent mumbles from his full mouth. Tears welled on his eyes as Muspell started bucking, second length gliding and slapping on his face.
“Take it, I know you humans like this,” Muspell mused as he dropped what’s left of his clothing. The prince’s face was fucked hard, his throat used over and over. Hrid’s already tattered top and his pants, no thanks to the guards earlier, slid off from the roughness of their movements. Precum dribbled from the second dick over the human’s firm, sweat-sheened chest. Muspell’s threw his head back in enjoyment.
With a quick glance at prince’s semi-dangling form, Muspell raised a foot to push off all the remaining articles of clothing off the mortal from below his knees, leaving either of them free with Hrid now only wearing chains and his own crown.
“I…N-no,” Hrid started when Muspell pulled out one of his lengths, only to force back the second. A string of precum painted strings on Hrid’s chin and neck, mixed with own saliva as the first dick, fully erect, moved by his neck as the god started fucking his face once more, feral and rough.
The god pulled out and effortlessly raised the prince by the chains. A forked, slender tongue slithered to his chest then to his neck then forced his way inside Hrid’s mouth, tangling with his own, hungry, full of want. Muspell’s own toned body pressed against the captive, sweat allowing a somewhat smooth glide as they moved. The prince’s dick, currently in a semi, grinded with the god’s own, both hard, coated with spit and precum. The friction felt great despite the roughness of it all, urging Hrid slowly, further and further…
Muspell then broke free and slammed Hrid against the wall, chains jingling above them, as he glided his dragonesque tongue down his neck, his chest, armpits, earning him a surprised moan.
“That’s it,” Muspell sneered as Hrid panted, as all of Muspell filled his senses. Their proximity highlighted the god’s own scent, smoky, burning, which started to be twinged with something spicy as seconds passed by. Pleasure traveled his body where god’s tongue moved, hot and wet. The mortal’s dick, nestled between both of the god’s, grew to full arousal and started dripping precum as two bodies grinded.
Hrid’s vision started losing focus. Sweltering heat filled the room and muddied the prince’s thoughts. He should be exhausted from all of this but rather…warmth filled his body, radiating down from his chest, down below, driving him to only one thought: he wanted more.
Primal instincts, the god of flames valued earlier.
Searing heat from his wrists snapped him back from his thoughts and with a metallic clank, the captive was freed from his chains. The prince leaned against the wall and slid down the floor. As Muspell lined one of his dicks back the prince’s mouth, Hrid noticed that the god had sprouted a black tail, with flickering candle flames lining above it and triangular patterns glowed like live coal at its underside. The reptilian tail ended in a burning ember by the tip.
Arousal filled Hrid as he let himself be manhandled, his hair pulled as his faced gets fucked once again, this time with less resistance. The warm tail glided by the prince’s dick, despite being in flames, did not burn Hrid, instead teased him with light touches.
“MMMPH,” Hrid mumbled.
“What was that?” Muspell sneered as he pulled his head back free. The god wrapped the prince’s dick by the tail, only to free it once again.
“A-augh,” he spat as a feverish sensation welled upon Hrid’s hips. A dull aching feeling enveloped his dick, making him yearn for pleasure. Precum dripped freely as spicy smelling smoke continued to fill the captive's sense of smell, exacerbating the his arousal.
“Beg for it then, you filthy mortal,” Muspell smiled as he pushed both cocks by the prince’s face. Full of desire, Hrid freely took one of it and started stroking the other, lapping hungrily, eyes dilated.
“P-please,” Hrid pleaded in between switching the god’s dicks.
Chuckling, Muspell instead pushed his tail by the prince’s entrance below, slowly wiggling and loosening him. Hrid responded with a cry of pleasure, only to be silenced by another round of sucking.
Finally, Muspell suddenly pulled away, causing Hrid to fall forward from his earnest blowjob, elbows down, and on his knees. After some quick slight shuffling, warmth radiated once more this time from his back as Muspell repositioned himself behind. Without warning, the god forced one of his dicks after moments of loosening.
“Wh-what, ahhh–,” Hrid whimpered as Muspell’s skin met his back, taloned hand on his chest pushing him closer as he started to fuck, slowly then increasing in tempo, second dick and balls slapping by the prince’s taint. Moans filled the cell as the god pleased himself with the mortal, rough, wild but devoid of intimacy.
Hrid ached for release and wanted to stroke himself but was unable to with the position. Jolts of pleasure erupted from below every time Muspell forced himself the deepest. Precum freely pooled directly below Hrid’s dick, as well as behind him dripping down his legs from Muspell, both amounts unnaturally so, as lustful vigor filled him. Fangs suddenly dug his neck as Muspell left marks, which surprisingly felt great despite the pain. The forked tongue tasted his neck and nape with the god’s breath stinging hot against his skin.
“Such a slut,” the god remarked as Hrid moaned.
The prince shifted and desperately tried to reach his dick with one of his hands, only to stumble due to loss of balance, momentarily dislodging the god’s length. Muspell took the opportunity to grab the fallen man by the shoulder and ragdoll him to face him, bend him forcefully and start a piledriver with his other second dick. As Hrid focused on him, the god had already grown a set of dragon wings proportional to his human form, blazing orange, skeletally lined with a charcoal black frame.
“Behold, you shall witness my rebirth,” the god announced as he started to fuck the prince once more deep and fast, Hrid’s head falling backwards in both pleasure and pain. Muspell bounced on him with no regard, spit dripping from the edges of his lips, panting hungrily as minutes passed by.
The god’s pace then started to become erratic, and the prince felt immense pleasure welling from below him. With a final deep thrust, Muspell spilled his seed, hot and heavy, inside Hrid, overflowing out the edges of his entrance due to the sheer, unnatural amount. The dragon god’s second dick painted the prince’s abs, chest and a few splattered his face with a slight sizzle.
With a gasp, Hrid followed suit seconds later, coating himself more with his own release, mixing with Muspell’s. Moans mingled throughout the cell for moments, then shifting into tired, heavy breaths. The god unceremoniously pulled back his dick with a pop, earning one final whimper from the mortal.
Hrid’s vision blurred immensely and was on the verge of passing out. Before everything went black, he could make out Muspell slowly flickering.
“I’m not done with you, Nifl scum. I’ll toy with you more, seeing you enjoyed it,” with one final chuckle, the god erupted in flames, leaving no trace of his presence except for the ones he marked on the prince.
Once more, only the sound of crackling torches permeated into the warm, stone lined room.
—