Blowjob-Adjacent
Chapter twenty-six
Dex
Dex stayed at Cya’s the rest of the weekend.
They slept in their ridiculously comfy bed, and he woke with them coiled around him quite completely, their tail constricting and releasing around him as they snored softly against the back of his neck.
They ate breakfast—eggs and toast, since that was the only thing Cya could confidently cook without burning down the kitchen—and then he got an official tour of the mansion.
Cya avoided the right wing of the house, saying it was more their parents’ domain, but they showed him the den, full of books and a pool table and a small table with a green, felt surface they claimed was used for cards.
He’d never known that special tables were necessary to play Go Fish, but he chalked it up as a rich-people necessity.
The drawing room had many windows to let in natural light. An easel stood near the largest one, and something Cya called a fainting couch sat in the center. All around it were musical instruments.
Apparently, they weren’t just talented in jewelry making; they could also paint and draw and play three instruments.
As he sat—not fainted—on the fainting couch, Dex listened while their fingers danced over the baby grand piano, creating a swirling masterpiece of grandiose sound.
Then at the cello, they swayed with a rocking, dulcet melancholy that tasted like grief and loss and bittersweet love.
His favorite was the harp, though. The way Cya closed their eyes and lost themself to the magical strings, invoking a sweet, innocent awe of beauty and feeling that Dex didn’t even have names for.
It was like witchcraft, casting a spell over the room until their fingers plucked the last dissonant notes, and he could finally catch his breath.
Lost for words, he could only cradle their face in his hands and kiss them with the same amount of gentle sweetness they’d played for him. They melted instantly, and he rumbled in satisfaction, loving the way they turned to putty in his hands.
They spent a few hours in their studio as Cya worked on a piece that combined three different types of gold in a complicated braid.
Perched on the stool at their side, chin in his hand, he watched them, enraptured by the focused crease between their eyes and the steadiness of their elegant fingers.
They’d capture their bottom lip between their teeth and release subconscious little noises in the back of their throat to convey frustration or elation when they got it right.
During the heat of the afternoon, they swam. Well, Dex swam while Cya lounged beside the pool in another flimsy sarong and bikini top that he may or may not have convinced them to remove. For the integrity of their tan lines, of course.
At first, they scowled at him reproachfully, calling him a degenerate, but only a few minutes later, he surfaced from the laps he’d been swimming to find them bare chested, big sunglasses perched on their nose.
They’d even removed the sarong, though all their scales were in place to cover the most secret parts of them.
Propping his chin on the side of the pool, he drank in their winding curves and smooth planes.
Their scales glittered iridescent green in the sunlight, and the bars through their dusky, perky nipples glinted with every inhale.
His mouth watered at the memories of the day before when he’d tasted them, their softness hardening under his tongue until he could suck on the peaked nubs.
He was achingly stiff in the swim shorts he’d borrowed from one of the random guest rooms in the house, but he was happy to just observe.
They looked like they belonged in a museum behind protective glass, the rarest work of art, and he was in awe that he was allowed to touch them.
That he was allowed to taste and take and, to some extent, ruin their perfection.
Because they wanted him to. Because they begged him to. And who was he to deny them?
When he couldn’t resist a moment longer, he pulled himself out of the pool, water pouring off him and splattering the tile noisily, and advanced on them.
They had to have heard him coming, but other than a twitch to their mouth, they remained motionless.
Even their eyes stayed closed behind their sunglasses as he came to a stop, standing above them.
He extended a hand, letting the pool water drip onto the end of their tail, and their scales flinched at the sudden chill.
Moving up their body, he covered them in water droplets, letting them pool in the hollow of their tummy, then between their cute, tiny breasts, then their pulse point.
They were smiling now, breathing faster, but they kept their eyes closed.
Unsure how far they wanted him to go, he went slow so they could stop him if and when they wanted.
He started at their head, dotting kisses across their brow, then down between their eyes until he covered their cheeks and jaw.
He bypassed their lips, loving the annoyed tisk and pout to their mouth, as he worked his way down their throat.
The love bite he’d sucked into their pulse point yesterday was already fading, which just wouldn’t do, so he sucked a newer, darker hickey into their skin as they released a breathy laugh.
He licked their collarbones, then teased his tongue over their pebbled nipple.
Little laves and swirls, just enough to make them whimper before he moved to the other one to give it the same attention.
Their arousal thickened in his nose, spicy and herby, and his cock jerked in his trunks.
The moment he moved away from their nipples, their arms lowered as if to stop his withdrawal, and he growled a warning.
A shudder rippled through their body, and their arms paused.
Eyes squeezed shut, teeth digging into their lip, they returned their arms above their head, hands draped over the back of the lounge chair in clenched fists.
“Good job, highness,” he praised, and they mewled.
Taking his time, he showered their belly with sucking, wet kisses, teeth scraping over the sparse smattering of scales that thickened the farther down he went. He took a pitstop at their navel, capturing the curved bar with his teeth and tugging, before going further.
Cya stiffened as he kissed the skin under their belly button where their thicker scales began, but they didn’t stop him as he cautiously nuzzled down, down, down to where their scent was heaviest. He discovered a marginally raised mound of looser, malleable scales that, if Cya allowed them, would part to reveal their cunt—er, whatever they had; he still wasn’t sure.
He didn’t want them to feel pressured to show him, especially with the anxiety leaking through their scent, so he simply kissed the mound, noting the raised thickness under their scales.
Their scars? Or maybe their clits? Unless they didn’t have clits; maybe, they had hemipenes, like the male Sypent in the porno he’d watched.
Either way, it didn’t matter. Even if they never showed him, that was okay. He would love them and their body no matter what.
So he kissed the pubic mound, unable to resist licking them there to gather the moisture leaking through the fluttering scales. He tasted the pool water he’d sprinkled over them, but underneath was a thicker slick of spices and herbs and salt.
He groaned. “Shit, you taste good.”
“Oh my gods,” they choked out, chest heaving.
To respect their boundaries, he didn’t push, instead kissing down their tail until he reached their rattle. It was hard, like his toe claws, and smooth, the ridges pronounced enough to create a ribbed effect.
If he was being honest, he’d never once considered anything going up his ass before.
He still wasn’t sure if he’d be into that, but the adventurous, try-anything-once part of him recognized that their rattle could probably fit.
And it was ribbed, and it vibrated. So maybe…
Okay, he wasn’t brave enough yet, but maybe one day.
Crouched at the end of the lounge chair, Dex looked up at them and flattened his tongue against the tapered tip of their rattle. Their eyes were finally open, watching him through their sunglasses, and they arched an eyebrow as he licked the keratin.
“What are you doing?” they asked.
“Proving you’re not the only one who can make choking sexy,” he joked as he closed his mouth around their rattle and sucked on it.
A breathy laugh punched from their chest. “There are no nerve-endings down there, darling.”
He pulled off. “Yet, I can smell how much it’s turning you on to watch.”
Blushing dark enough to paint their neck too, they smiled and tapped his chin with their rattle.
So Dex took it into his mouth and bobbed his head, attempting his very first blowjob.
Or blowjob-adjacent? Meh, whatever. He was sucking on something hard that had the capability to choke him, so it was a blowjob in his book.
Cya giggled weakly, but their scent thickened even more. They didn’t fuck his mouth or anything, letting him play with their rattle how he wanted until he slurped up and off with a self-satisfied hum.
“Damn, I’m a natural,” he boasted, and they laughed fully.
“Well, you did practice on the vegetables,” they teased, and he grabbed them by the tail and tugged.
“Get down here,” he ordered, and they smacked his stomach with their rattle.
“Make me,” they sassed, and he snarled playfully as he dragged them down the lounge chair.
They shrieked with laughter the whole way down until they were sitting on the end, face level with his stomach.
He sifted his fingers through their wavy hair, but before he could bend down to kiss them, they gripped his trunks and yanked him forward until he was straddling their tail, shins pressed to the metal frame of the chair.