Archive of Our Own ^beta

You’d like to think your Lumiere collection has met its full potential. Acrylic standees to special edition posters, and even a variety of pin badges with the esteemed hero of moonlight.

So you’re surprised to find a package at your doorstep—without a return address, no less—decorated in excessive Lumiere branding. Stickers of the moon, stars and his placid expression seemingly take up every corner.

At first, it seems like a mistake. After all, you hadn't made any recent purchases that were bound to be on your way. When you offer the package to the front desk, they only tell you that it is, in fact, your parcel. Now your responsibility, and out of their hands.

Left with no other choice, you ride the elevator back to your place in a burning curiosity. Sure, you could’ve tossed out the box and called it a day—but it felt too convenient, too much of a sign to wholly ignore. So you take a box cutter and carefully trace along the tape, letting out the mystery within these cardboard walls.

To your surprise, it’s… rather endearing. Inlaid is a puppet plush, dressed down to the nines in perfect resemblance to Lumiere.

When you reach for him, he fits perfectly in your palm, body lightweight and most of the cotton taking up the head space. His stitched, beady blues look at you past the fabric mask in silver detail. A smile set into a firm line, it's almost uncanny of how similar it is to the real thing. Even down to the hair color and little tufts parted in the same direction, you could tell that he was made with love for the craft.

“You’re very cute,” you tell the plushie, giving his round cheeks a pinch. “But I don’t know why you’re here…”

You warily gaze at the note again, being your only clue to this otherwise mysterious puzzle. Besides the bed of velvet cushioning its walls, the box had a single piece of cardstock.

Limited edition, one-of-a-kind Lumiere Pape for Our Esteemed Hunter! Please handle with care and do not redistribute. Thank you for your patronage.

Patronage? There were a handful of sellers you've perused in the pursuit of growing your ‘museum,’ as Xavier would have called it. Maybe you could find a lead there.

You take to your phone and begin scrolling through old emails, tracking down the respective websites to find any similar listings. Yet nothing turns up, even when you search by images. This Lumiere is truly one-of-a-kind, to the point where it really doesn’t exist anywhere else besides the palm of your hand.

It’s as though you’ve hit a road block. Then, a welcome distraction and answer to your prayers comes in the form of a text notification.

“Hey partner. what R u up to?”

Now it’s just you, the real-life Lumiere in the form of your boyfriend, and a singular puppet with his likeness sitting in your living room.

“So, let me get this straight. You’re worried that your new merch could be… rigged?”

“Yeah.” You take little Lumiere’s plush hand and give him a wave. “I figured you might know and thing or two,” you say. “After all, you were able to track down that one fairymare from a long time ago. And like I told you, I didn’t buy this myself, so who knows what it’s capable of.”

“Mm. That fairymare was a dud in the first place,” he recalls. “And besides, I gave it to you for safe-keeping since you liked it so much.” He crosses his arms, a skeptical look going from his stitched twin to you. “But I don’t sense anything like that from this thing.”

“Lumiere,” you correct him.

“I am not calling it that.” Xavier picks up the accompanying cardstock instead and scans the vague lines of text. “Have you tried resonating with it?”

You shake your head. “I was afraid using my evol could, well, I don’t know? Ruin it, I guess? This Lumiere is the only one I have, too.”

“Give it a try,” he suggests, then holds a hand out. “You’re more than capable of controlling it. And I’ll be right here with you, in case anything happens.”

“Okay…”

With a newfound confidence, you hold Xavier’s hand and steady your breath. Calmly, the familiar warmth of your evol surges through your veins. Your focus directs it all onto the plush. A faint light halos it, before dimming out in the very next breath.

“Nothing,” you say, relaxing your grip on both him and Lumiere. You lean closer to his side, head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. “Looks like this whole thing’s a bust.”

Xavier gently rests his cheek atop your crown. “At least you tried. It’s just a puppet, anyhow.”

“Be nice to Lumi,” you chide, sliding the puppet onto your finger. Possibly due to your evol, the insides are surprisingly warm. You pay it no mind and wave him around, before poking Xavier’s knee with the rotund head.

“He works hard to fight evil under the moonlight, you know. Like this,” the puppet bounces at every touch you employ to emulate his fighting moves. “Tezcatlipoca couldn’t stand a chance against his amazing skill.”

Xavier squirms at this, his breath uneven and stuck halfway through a groan. The sound has you frozen, eyes slowly looking up to find out exactly why—only to see his red ears and the back of his hand pressed to his mouth.

“Xavier,” you say softly, reaching to rub at his ear. “What’s wrong?”

“I feel strange,” he manages after a swallow. “Something keeps… poking me.”

You glance towards the floor, searching for any sign of discomfort. Behind his back, then to your own. But everything is clean and proper, much as how it was before he came over.

You frown. “Where, exactly?”

“Uh…” Xavier averts your gaze. “It could be a stomach ache, maybe. My lunch could be catching up with me.” He tries to stand, though it’s nearly a clumsy attempt with the way his thighs tightly press together. “I’ll be right back.”

You’re quick to rise with him. “Take your time. I’ll see if I have any paracetamol in the cabinets.”

“Thanks, partner.”

When you pull off the puppet from your fingers, Xavier lets out another winded gasp. Bent over with hands on his knees, his shoulders shake as though he’s been struck by something.

The first time had seemed like a completely harmless mishap. And now, a second instance weighs the scale in favor of happenstance.

You don’t think it’s possible. Or rather, you don't want to believe that the warmth you brushed off actually had some merit to it—not a delusion, but rooted in the reality you’re witnessing. But what if, just what if, something actually… works?

You quietly look over the Lumiere puppet once more. Still in one whole piece, it exists in all of its stitched glory. Cautiously, you nail follows the entrance with a touch of the faintest resonance. Much to your unspoken suspicion, Xavier’s breath grows labored.

Oh. Oh, so that’s how it is.

You’re starting to understand why the instructions are so adamant on the ‘care’ and ‘redistribution’ warnings. If anyone else got their hands on this plush, it would’ve easily spelled disaster. And moreover, why it was addressed to you—Xavier’s partner, and dedicated Hunter in arms. Someone like you, whose strength lies within the Anhaunsen class, is more than a perfect fit for something that thrives from your evol.

“That poking you felt before,” you start, kneeling beside him. You tentatively cover his knuckles with your palm. “Did it hurt?”

“Not really,” he recalls. “But it was so sudden. All up in my ass, as if there was a…” Xavier trails off, and his gaze lingers on the puppet in your free hand. “Finger in there.”

“I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea,” you tell him in utmost sincerity. “I never would've thought something like this even exists in the first place. I won’t ever do it again, so don’t worry—”

“Why not?”

“And I’ll put it away—”

You pause then. “Huh?”

Xavier nudges your fingers to slot with his, and he tugs you up to your feet. You had imagined seeing disdain across his features, yet his eyes held a bashful light that subverted those expectations. It’s almost blinding to be so close to such a brilliant radiance.

“I think we can make this work.”

Xavier’s definition of ‘work’ is far beyond whatever the dictionary entries could hold. But, such is an understanding that only you can indulge in. To reach this point, in all honesty, isn’t too bad.

If anything, it’s downright lecherous.

Especially when it means you get to see your beloved boyfriend bare on the bed, his legs spread and a hand hooked underneath each knee. Feet as flat as they could manage to be atop the comforter, immensely wrinkled and in slight disarray.

Sitting at the opposite end, you’re fully dressed. One hand cups the Lumiere puppet, and the other traces around the opening, just as you did many moments ago. The two of you have been at this for a while now—to the point where the sun exchanged pleasantries with the moon.

Xavier’s eyes are glossed over in bliss, past tears staining his cheeks and strikingly evident against his flushed skin. Streaks of cum lay over his abdomen, the head of his cock equally as red and spent—despite not having touched himself at all. His hole helplessly clenches around nothing, yet there’s a fine slick oozing out all the same.

“Xavier,” you coo, his name falling over your lips in a tune that has him mewling. “Think you can handle one more for me?”

“Mm, I can do it.” He blinks slowly. “Wanna to feel you again too.”

Your fingertip prods at the plush per his approval, resonance humming to life. Though it’s barely a touch, the warmth from within already works on pulling you further along. The ghost of your touch continues to linger by the shallow thrusts of your finger nevertheless, observant of his lust-addled state. Enough to stimulate, but just on the cusp of satisfaction.

“You look so pretty like this,” you say between his breathy moans, ones that grow louder when you speak.

Sliding off the bed, you walk closer to where layers of moonlight dig into the pillows and pools of blue cloud over. You lean down and blow a gentle, yet cool breath of air on his ear, relishing the shudder that comes from it.

“Taking me so well, I knew you could do it.”

A second finger emerges then, kept close to the first. The warmth stretches at your welcoming, before it greedily wraps around you. “Made just for me, for my fingers to fuck. I’m inside you,” you croon. “But it’s not enough, is it? You want more than just this, I’m sure.”

“I do,” he pants. He tilts his head to meet yours in a desperate nudge. “God, I need—please, I’m so close—”

Then, when your knuckles are deep enough and find what they’re looking for, you press down—right over his prostate. The massage is mercy and ruthlessness incarnate, both bringing him down towards a shared path of ruin. But you’ll milk him for what it’s worth, taking care in stroking the sensitive gland.

Xavier keens immediately, unbroken and unabashedly loud. Your name mixes in with such incoherent vocalizations, though you’re far from complaining and deep towards indulgence. His hips meets the air in desperate bucks, where bursts of cum leave their mark, going as far as to reach his chest. Thighs tremble in the midst of his climax, abdomen taut and every heavy breath succumbed to waves of pleasure.

You gradually slow your paces before withdrawing entirely. You’re just as breathless, the resonance putting you to work and stirring a heat in your own belly. The puppet no longer rests on your fingers, leaving behind an unnaturally warm impression and a sticky residue. You exchange it for a clean tissue from the bedside, wiping it off.

Plucking another piece, you fold it into a square and turn to check on Xavier. His chest heaves in its descent for a regular pace, though he’s already looking at you. You sit by him on the bed, and a quiet understanding floats between yourselves.

You start by gingerly patting at his chest to make do with the remnants of his release. Once cleaned off, the tissue crumbles into a ball and finds its way to the nearest trash can. You repeat this with a new piece and go a bit lower, mindful of his softened, spent state.

Saving his legs for last, you switch to the drawers and find a washcloth. “How are you feeling?”

Xavier drapes his arms around your midsection and tugs you closer. “A little tired,” he admits, a soft yawn rounding the word.

Wiping at the last bit of slick kept to his thighs, you nod. “I could only imagine.” Then, pause. “Actually, what was it like? You know, since you were on the receiving end and all.”

His head tilts in thought. “Fingering without actual fingers, in an odd sense. But, also a bit hotter? A good kind of burn that,” he looks away bashfully, “I… really liked. It was all I could think about.”

You hook a finger under his chin and return his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future, then. Maybe use my real fingers instead too. Wouldn't that be nice?”

Xavier’s cheeks turn red, but he nods firmly. “Yeah. I'd like that.”