Pucked By The Puca (Monstrous Meet Cutes)

15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

ISEOL

Pem runs a hand through his long hair, his expression almost…

Sheepish?

“You ok?” I whisper, my body and mind still hazy from coming twice in a row.

“Me? I’m great—how could I not be with the most perfect woman nearly naked before me?”

I blush. “I’m not perfect.”

“To me, you are.”

His words wrap around my heart and squeeze.

“You are the sweetest, Pem, but you do know I have flaws, right?”

He snorts. “ Everyone has flaws. When I said you were ‘perfect’, it wasn’t because these flaws are absent, but rather, how you are despite them. In short, you’re amazing, and I’m in awe of you, fynuhmar.”

“What does ‘fynuhmar’ mean?”

Pem used it a few times while pleasuring me, but I was too lost in the magic his tongue was creating to ask.

“My mate. It’s from an old dialect that the Fae speak.”

“It’s pretty. I suppose that makes you naemeiteu . Now, are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

“Wrong? No. It’s just…remember when you thought ‘lose my horns’ was a euphemism for coming in my pants?”

“And you said it wasn’t.”

“It might be becoming one.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

My gaze immediately dips down to where his bokyt is partially hidden by his thick, brown fur. The vertical line is barely visible, but a pearly bead of liquid glistens where the two sides meet.

Without thinking, I reach out to scoop up the little droplet, bringing it to my mouth. The act is purely instinctual, and both Pem and I groan when I wrap my lips around my finger and suck.

“Mmmm,” I sigh. “More.”

Pem’s eyes widen, and he swears under his breath as I push up onto my knees. He scoots back, sitting on top of the ice until I’m between his knees.

“You don’t have to do this, Iseol.”

I purse my lips. “Did you enjoy touching and tasting me?”

“Gods, yes.”

“Then why wouldn’t I want to do the same to you?”

He sighs. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything that you don’t want.”

“Oh, Pem, you have no idea how much I want this. Please ?”

“Fuck, don’t beg. Am I alive? Is this really happening—my mate begging to lick up my cum?”

I shoot him a mischievous smirk. “Oh, it’s happening. Please? Please, please, please ?”

“Stop!” Pem laughs, falling back on the frozen lake. “Whatever you want, Iseol. Whatever.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to offer.”

I’m only partially teasing because a part of me knows that Pem means every word of his vow.

“Isn’t that what you do for someone you love?”

My heart stutters. “L-love?”

“Of course, you barmy vixen, how could I not love my mate?”

“You love me ?”

His gaze softens. “I love you, Iseol.”

Something inside of me clicks into place, and I realize that my snowfall wish came true. It brought me someone to love…

But also someone who loves me.

I know Pem is waiting for me to say it back, but actions speak louder than words. I crawl up between his legs until our noses touch.

And then I kiss him with all the love that I have inside me.

The second our lips meet, the world collides in a storm of hot and cold. Snow falls from the sky, melting when it reaches our skin.

But it does nothing to cool the inferno raging inside of us, and our passion only burns brighter until it arcs between Pem and me like electricity.

The smoldering embers that had quieted since Pem made me come burst back into life. Heat sweeps through my body, and I moan.

Breaking our kiss, I nuzzle his neck before making my way down his chest and stomach, trailing tiny pecks along his muscular frame.

When I reach the juncture where his legs come together, I pause to stare. Pem’s bokyt is nearly invisible, hidden behind a thick tangle of curls.

But his cum still glistens, calling to me like a Siren. Unable to resist, I lean forward and trace my tongue along the delicate seam.

Pem shudders, his whole body going stiff at the contact as a half-snarl, half-groan rips past his lips and echoes around us.

“Fuck, Iseol—that feels…”

“Good?” I suggest when he doesn’t continue.

My Puca snorts. “No. Good’s too mundane of a word.”

“I take it your bokyt is sensitive then?”

“More so than my horns.”

Something naughty and unexplored blooms inside of me with this information. Lowering my lashes so Pem can’t see my intent, I lean back down.

I lick along the entrance of his bokyt, wondering what magic I need to open it, when the slit parts—as if hearing my thoughts.

Curious, I run a finger just inside. It’s velvet soft and warm. Shadows conceal Pem’s cock, but I can see where his cum has pooled just at the opening.

He sucks in a sharp breath when I dip my tongue in and lap at the salty puddle. This is something I’ve never done before, but my body knows what to do.

It’s like there’s a compulsion urging me to taste my mate—to drink his very essence until our souls are entwined.

There’s no point in fighting it.

I don’t even try.

I want Pem’s flavor embedded on my tongue.

My Puca howls when I swipe along the inner ridge of his bokyt, and as if summoned, his cock unfurls from its confines.

It’s longer than my forearm, just as thick, and dripping with pre-cum. I blink at the hard length staring me right in the eye.

How in the chintamani does this monster fit inside his bokyt?

Moreover…

How’s it going to fit inside of me ?!

“Iseol?”

“Shhh, I’m doing math.”

Pem’s brow furrows. “Math? Now ?”

I nod. “I’m trying to figure out the equation that allows for you to put this beast inside of me without splitting my body in half.”

He gives a hoarse chuckle. “I’ll fit—I swear—and it won’t hurt. You were made to take my therys.”

As usual, he sounds so sure.

So confident.

“How do you know?”

“Because you made me go into rut, despite my suppressants. You’re my true mate, and our bodies were made for one another. You know I would never hurt you, right?”

“I know.”

Pem grunts, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and I go back to exploring his cock. It’s brown, like his fur, but the tip is a verdant green, just like his hair.

The length coils like a high-spire shell, the whorls getting thicker the closer to the base of his cock I look.

It’s the bottom of his cock that causes me the most worry. Thicker than both my wrists put together, I know it’s his knot.

How it can possibly fit inside of me seems astronomical, but Pem’s words sink deep into my psyche.

We’re made for each other.

The thought brings a wave of need washing over me. Heat flares hot and incessant. My head droops down, and Pem’s cock brushes my cheek.

I turn, leaving a sticky trail along my face, as I take the jade tip into my mouth. Like the inside of his bokyt, it’s soft, pulsing lightly on my tongue.

“Gods, Iseol, the sight of you with my therys splitting your pretty pink lips is beautiful.”

I hum at his praise, soaking it up, as I continue to explore the nuances of his cock. It reminds me of a whelk I once found as a child, perfectly helical.

The rounded edges loop over my tongue as I trace down Pem’s thick length. I feel a flutter and pull back to see something akin to scalloped frills flaring out from the side of his cock.

They’re nearly translucent and appear as delicate lace. When I reach out to run a finger over one, Pem shivers.

“What are these?”

“Esgylaru—mating fins. They only come out for Satyr who have found their true mates.”

My lips curl as I watch the frills wave back and forth. Almost like they’re greeting me. This makes me grin even more, my cheeks hurting with how broad I’m smiling.

“They’re pretty…do you think they’ll be prettier in my mouth?”

Pem narrows his eyes and snarls, and I take his reaction as confirmation before sucking a delicate fin between my lips.

To my surprise, it undulates, the fragile-looking ruffle quite strong against my tongue, where it flexes like a muscle.

My mate bucks his hips, a silent request for me. I suck down the sides of his cock, my tongue dancing over its curves before making my way back to the tip.

It glistens in the cold, Icelandic sunlight, and I bite my lip at how desperate Pem looks, his claws etching into the ice as he attempts to anchor himself down.

Mine.

The word flashes through my mind, and my body clenches because nothing has ever felt truer than that one, possessive sentiment.

Pem is mine, and just as he enjoys unraveling me, I revel in breaking him down into nothing but sweat and desperation.

We’ve peeled back our physical layers, but now I want to explore the metaphorical ones—those driven by lust and need and fire.

It’s this desire that has me licking and bobbing up and down Pem’s length until he’s a writhing mess, his thighs shaking with his need to come.

I want to stroke his horns, but they’re too far for me to reach, so I do the second best thing—I caress the inside of his bokyt.

He growls, tossing back his head, thrusting his cock deeper into my mouth before unleashing inside of it.

Rope after creamy rope of his cum slides down the back of my throat , and I swallow reflexively, savoring the salty, heady flavor coating my tongue.

I don’t need instructions on how to pleasure my mate—I just know—and it’s this innate sense that drives me wild.

My body flushes with renewed warmth, the tingle between my legs that Pem assuaged growing with urgent ferocity.

In seconds, it’s as if I’m on fire.

As if tasting Pem’s cum was the catalyst to respark the flame.

As if I’ll never be able to get enough of this man.

As if only he can make me whole.