Chapter 15 Weight of Blood #7
My body shuddered, hips rolling back, chasing every lick, every filthy sound he dragged from me.
Viktor’s grip held me steady, strong fingers digging into my flesh, spreading me wider, opening me for more.
His tongue fucked me slow, savoring every twitch, every gasp, every shameless plea I spilled into the sheets.
Wet lips latched around my hole, sucking hard, tongue plunging deep, making me sob, making my cock leak against the bed. Viktor moaned, devouring me, praising me between breaths, words thick and broken. “So fucking sweet. Could stay here all night, feast on you, make you forget your own name.”
My legs shook, knees giving out, body melting under the force of his mouth. Tongue slid lower, lapping at the skin behind my balls, then traced back up, flicking and teasing, driving me wild. His fingers spread me wider, spit running down to slick my thighs, obscene and perfect.
A hand wrapped around my cock, stroking slow and tight, the contrast almost cruel.
His mouth never stopped, never relented, eating me out with single-minded devotion, tongue working my hole, teeth scraping, sucking, making me whimper and beg, lost to anything but the need to be filled, to be owned, to be fucked.
“Can you feel how desperate I am for you?” Viktor growled, voice raw. “Want to breed you. Want to make you mine, inside and out.”
A filthy, desperate moan tore from my lips as his hand squeezed my cock, thumb spreading precome over the head, wrist twisting, making me sob. His mouth pulled off with a final, wet kiss, spit cooling on my skin as he shifted lower, lips dragging over my thigh, then back up.
Without warning, Viktor dove beneath me, mouth latching onto my cock from behind, sucking me deep, tongue swirling around the head, lips pulling tight, moaning as he swallowed the taste of my need.
His nose pressed to my balls, breath hot, chin slick with spit and sweat.
His tongue worked the length, mouth hungry and relentless, sucking, licking, worshipping every inch.
My body collapsed forward, ass still high, Viktor’s hands squeezing my cheeks, spreading me, keeping me open as he devoured my cock, tongue pushing into the slit, tasting my release, drawing it out with every filthy, hungry movement.
Viktor’s mouth didn’t let up, tongue swirling over the swollen head, lips tight around the shaft, sucking until I couldn’t breathe, until every thought dissolved into heat and pleasure.
My cock throbbed between his lips, every nerve screaming, body arched and open, ass still high, trembling for more.
His tongue dragged down, lapping up the aftershocks of my orgasm, swallowing every drop like he’d never tasted anything sweeter.
Fingers massaged my ass, kneading, spreading, teasing the sensitive skin where his mouth had left it raw.
I moaned into the sheets, unable to hold back, shame gone, need sharpened to a knife’s edge.
“Fuck, Viktor,” I choked out, voice hoarse and ruined. “Don’t stop. Please, want more.”
A wicked laugh vibrated against my skin, sending shivers up my spine. “Such a greedy prince,” he taunted, voice thick with pride. “Want to see how much you can take for me? How filthy you can get?”
My hips rolled, offering myself up, back arching, hole clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled, used, worshipped. His fingers slid lower, slick with spit and my own come, tracing circles around my rim, teasing, never quite pushing in.
A sharp slap landed on my ass, the sting blooming hot and electric, making my cock twitch back to life. The echo of it filled the room, shame and pleasure tangling until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“One,” Viktor whispered, and a single finger pressed in, slow and relentless, stretching me, making me gasp. The burn was perfect, the pressure just right, tongue lapping at my slit as he fucked me with that single finger, working me open.
Another slap, harder this time, left me moaning, hips jerking, ass high, begging for more. “Two,” he growled, pushing in a second finger beside the first, scissoring me open, working me slow, patient, every movement designed to drive me wild.
My hands fisted the sheets, forehead pressed to the mattress, body shaking with need. “Yes, fuck, yes,” I gasped, pushing back onto his hand, desperate to be stretched, filled, ruined.
A third slap landed, sharper, the pain making me groan, cock leaking against the sheets. “Three,” Viktor said, and a third finger joined the others, stretching me wider, filling me up. His thumb massaged my bruised flesh, soothing the ache, tongue licking up the mess he’d made.
The rhythm built—spank, finger, stretch, praise—each slap harder, each finger a new invasion, each gasp a new confession. “Filthy prince,” Viktor purred, voice shaking with pride. “You take it so well. Never seen anyone so hungry to be used.”
A fourth slap made me scream, body arching, hole fluttering around his fingers as he pushed a fourth one in, the stretch burning, perfect, overwhelming. “Four,” he counted, breath hot against my hole, tongue flicking, teasing, licking where his fingers split me wide.
Every thrust made me see stars, body split between pleasure and pain, humiliation and pride. I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t stop begging, moaning, grinding back onto his hand. My cock dripped, hard again, every nerve on fire.
The fifth slap left my ass stinging, raw, desperate for more. “Five,” Viktor growled, voice feral. His whole hand worked into me, five thick fingers stretching me wide, palm grinding against my rim, making me sob and beg and shake.
My body surrendered, every muscle melting under his control, every part of me begging for more, for everything. Viktor’s hand fucked me slow, deep, thumb pressing against the base of my spine, fingers curling to stroke the spot that made me see white.
“You’re so fucking open for me,” Viktor praised, breathless, pride and possession tangled in every word. “Look at you, prince—split on my hand, dripping, desperate. You love it, don’t you? Love being my filthy little thing.”
All I could do was moan, cock throbbing, hole clenching, body quaking as he worked me, filled me, owned me. His fingers twisted, spreading me wider, making me whimper, making me plead for more.
“Beg for it,” Viktor demanded, voice low, dangerous. “Tell me you want to be used. Tell me you want to be ruined.”
“Want it,” I gasped, voice broken, raw. “Want you to ruin me, want to be used, want to be your toy, your prince, your whore. Please, Viktor. Please.”
A filthy sound of approval slipped from his lips. His fingers pulled out slowly, leaving me empty, shaking, ruined. Spit and slick dripped down my thighs, the mess obscene, perfect. His hand smeared the mess over my ass, then pressed to my mouth, fingers sticky, wet, demanding entry.
“Open,” Viktor ordered. I obeyed, tongue lapping at his fingers, sucking them deep, tasting myself, licking every inch clean. He fed them to me one at a time, pushing past my lips, fucking my mouth with his hand the way he’d just fucked my ass.
“That’s it,” Viktor growled, pride and love tangled with filth. “Take it all. Show me you love it. Show me you were made for this.”
My mouth worked over his fingers, sucking, licking, moaning as he fed me the taste of myself, the taste of us, the taste of everything we’d done.
His free hand stroked my hair, gentle for a moment, thumb caressing my cheek, then gripped my jaw, holding me open, letting spit and slick drip down my chin.
His cock pressed to my ass, hard and leaking, the promise of more hanging in the air, thick and electric. “You ready for me, prince?” Viktor whispered, voice shaking, full of awe and want. “Ready to be fucked, to be bred, to be made mine all over again?”
“Please,” I begged, voice shaking, body open, soul laid bare. “Please, Viktor. Give me everything. Fill me, own me, make me yours.”
His fingers left my mouth with a wet pop, thumb smearing spit over my lips. His body pressed in close, cock sliding between my cheeks, teasing my hole, the promise of everything I wanted, everything I needed.
His cock slid between my cheeks, hot and heavy, smearing precome over my spit-slicked skin. Each thrust, just a tease, made my body arch, my ass open and clench with desperate hunger. I’d have begged for anything—pain, pleasure, everything in between—if it meant he’d finally give me what I needed.
A growl rumbled through his chest, sharp teeth scraping my shoulder. “Where’s the lube, prince? Tell me.”
My mind scrambled, drunk on sensation, but I managed to gasp out, “Nightstand. Top drawer.” My voice sounded ruined, almost foreign, shredded by want and worship.
Viktor’s weight disappeared for a second, bed shifting beneath his knees as he reached out, yanking open the drawer, the sharp sound of a bottle uncapped making my hole twitch with anticipation.
His palm returned, warm and commanding, smearing a generous, slick mess over his cock, stroking himself with rough, greedy fists.
Wet, obscene noises filled the room as he coated every inch, fingers working lube into my rim, pushing in, stretching me further, making me gasp, shake, beg.
“Going to ruin you,” Viktor promised, voice ragged, trembling with hunger.
“Want you loose for me, dripping for me, stretched so wide you’ll feel it for days.
” Two thick fingers twisted inside me, working the lube deeper, scissoring me open, thumb rubbing circles around the bruised, swollen flesh.
I sobbed for it, pressing back, wanting to be broken, to be filled so completely I’d never be whole without him again.
A sharp slap cracked against my ass, the sting sending a jolt straight to my cock. “Filthy thing,” Viktor growled, pride and affection tangled in the words. “Begging for it, all open, all mine. You want to be fucked, don’t you? Want to be used, filled, bred?”