Chapter Thirteen #5
“That was perfect,” he rasped. Focused on Zyr, every shift of his chest and dilation of his eyes, gone dark with cracking storms, when Robin pushed his jeans and underwear down just enough to get some fucking relief from the confines of his clothing.
To put on a show just for Zyr. “That’s what I require.
Asking. You needing enough to do it. You’re allowed to taste the inside of my arm, this one. ”
“Yes?” A breathy ask, another question mark.
“So long as you leave marks.” Robin pulled at Zyr’s horn, twisted his other wrist on the upstroke and, yeah, groaned again, fighting to keep his eyes open. “No breaking skin, but I want to see bruises tomorrow, beithir.”
Another pull, permission given for Zyr to move. He didn’t go far, tilting his head just so, lips to Robin’s arm and eyes cut to the side, to keep his eyes on the stroke of Robin’s hand over his cock.
A whisper of lips, warm, the skin tender and easy to bruise.
“Yes, Raven-Robin.” And another kiss, this time with those handsome lips parted, just the tip of his tongue, hot, so Robin shivered. “Thank you.”
Yes.
Fuck yes.
Thank you and Robin’s murmured, “you’re welcome.
” Low. Intimate. Then that soft touch turned to a gentle graze of teeth, heat and pressure as Zyr used his tongue and lips to suck a bruise there with soft, desperate sounds, broken by Robin’s harsh breathing.
The gorgeous man moaned, rumbled with it, his next gasp cool against the bright mark on Robin’s tan skin.
“Fuck,” Zyr whispered and pressed his teeth into the freshly reddened skin. Another mark, just slight indents, and not hard enough to bruise. “Winter’s rise. More.”
More, a demand, with that missing punctuation. But hungry. Grasping. Lost.
Not every request needed a question mark. Robin was allowed to change his mind.
“Close your eyes,” Robin ordered, instead of needling the ask from him.
Zyr obeyed without question, like he hadn’t kept his hungry gaze on Robin’s stroking hand like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. And god, what a pretty sight.
Robin uncurled his fingers, let go of his cock with a hiss, in favor for Zyr’s hand at his stomach. Stomach, until Robin tugged it away, folded his hand over Zyr’s and wrapped those fingers around his cock instead.
Let him have that, because Zyr was doing so well, and Robin wanted to thread his fingers through the man’s hair, tug him so his mouth pressed to a new patch of skin next to the first.
“Slow,” was the murmur, before words could properly form into lengthier instructions, fingers buried in Zyr’s hair going tight.
“Mouth and hand both. You didn’t ask, but I know you would’ve, if you weren’t being so fucking amazing for me right now.
Hear how fucked my voice is? Feel how hard I am?
That’s all you. You, pleasing me. Mark me again. ”
Seeking tongue and lips. A torturously measured stroke of a sure hand.
Zyr’s mouth, too open and eager to swallow the needy, panting whine that tore itself from his throat. A sound that gave way to an obscenity of wet noises as he sucked and licked and bit, skin stroking skin, slow enough with his hand that Robin could focus on the gorgeous goddamn man against him.
“There you are, beithir.” Nearly purred, that approval, sent the dragon shivering with the statement of his aspect.
“That’s right. Give me what you’ve asked for.
Hear yourself, marking me up? Getting your mouth warmed up for me, showing me what that tongue can do.
Doing so well, Zyr. So fucking pleased.”
They would need a blindfold, next time. Give Zyr no choice, just darkness, words and touch.
Ropes and cords were easy to make, like Zyr himself said.
Not now, wrapped up together in the library for the first time, Zyr rough, uncensored and raw, and Robin not letting himself be gutted by that shaking trust.
“When you’re done marking up every bit of my arm you can reach,” Robin gasped at a touch of teeth in time with the stroke of Zyr’s hand, “I’m going to hold you by your horns and let you taste my cock. Dreamed about that. And you’re so, so good. Fuck, Zyr.”
Fuck with a quiet tug, another space of skin, of pressure and teeth and Zyr, gasping, hungry, needing, more perfect and satisfying than even the beithir’s hand on his cock.
“Keep your eyes closed when you can’t move any further, and tell me. Fuck, Zyr, relentless storm, you’re so good. That’s it, that’s right, keep tasting me. Gonna have a lot more to work with soon.”
“Yes, Raven-Robin.” Gasped words as Zyr’s lips found not yet bruised skin. There for him to mark, to bite and suck and whine for. “I will.”
A further twist, awkward, straining, but enough to find more skin without pulling away from Robin’s grip. A new spot to taste and bite–gently, gently–and kiss, still as slow as his hand, even as those sharp, yearning noises continued.
He’d sound even better when he had Robin’s cock down his throat, when he was held there by his horns, to take and taste.
“All I can reach.” Zyr sucked that same spot again, marked it deeper. “Please?” A fresh shiver at the ask, and a thin, ravenous sound that might’ve been a whimper. “Please, Raven-Robin? Please.”
This desperate, needy Zyr had to be the single hottest thing Robin ever laid his eyes on. Shivering, asking please, sincere and without a snarl, broken down bit by bit and asking, Please, Raven-Robin? Please. Knowing Robin could, might, say no.
Kissing gentle, the softest fucking use of teeth, with those harsh, needing gasps and whines that sounded like he was getting fucked rough and deep from behind.
Robin tugged, pulled Zyr’s head back to where he could kiss the unseelie bastard. Kissed and tasted him, licking the sound and breath from his lips until Robin needed to break away.
“Beautiful. You listen and ask so fucking well, Zyr.” Robin managed to get out, nipping hard at his lips. “Let go of my cock and thigh. Keep your eyes closed. Time to put you on your knees, on the floor, and give you more.”
And his beautiful, dangerous, needy beithir said, “Please.”