Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Sobell’s lips pressed with firm intention on new, unfamiliar flesh and licked inward, penetrating his sheath with such precision and accuracy, it would have been easy to believe he’d done so countless times before.
That long, long tongue ventured inward, teasing, flicking, until it reached Clove’s base and changed course, encircling his girth and licking it in its entirety all the way to the hidden underside of his glans.
The pleasure was such that Clove’s whole body stiffened like it had under the effects of the elves’ evil magic.
A moan hitched in his throat.
As much as he searched frantically inside himself for fury, for outrage at this transformation worked against his will, he could find no anger within him. There was only desire. The change itself stoked desire, brought ‘wanting’ to a boil, flooded him with it. Undeniable. Irresistible.
He liked it.
Wanted more of it.
Wanted Sobell to bury his tongue inside of him as often as he could, licking, stroking, celebrating his body with this unholy invasion and promising through mounting pleasure that soon enough, there would be more.
Sobell detached his lips briefly to look up. Clove had no way of knowing what expression his pleasure-numbed face wore, but whatever it was, it made the dragon-man smirk.
Sobell rested his lips atop Clove’s throbbing cowl.
“I’ve been waiting to taste you,” he murmured. The rumble of his speech made Clove’s cock twitch. “There’s no taste like this in all of the world.”
He gave Clove’s cowl one more sucking kiss, and then abruptly lifted Clove’s thighs, pulling them over his shoulders. He gripped Clove’s ass and back, lifting him up.
Clove gasped and grabbed the back of Sobell’s head, leaning forward and unthinkingly clenching his thighs around Sobell’s neck, stomach wobbling as he found himself high up in the air. Perched on the man’s shoulders, all but straddling his face, his legs hung down Sobell’s back.
There was not even a whisper of a risk that he might be dropped.
Sobell stood easily upright in the water, hands on Clove’s buttocks to help secure him in place, with the object of desire presented directly before his face.
With a soft, satisfied groan, Sobell inclined his head and licked the full length of Clove’s dripping new mouth before fully indulging himself.
The twin shafts were not Sobell’s only draconic trait that lingered in this form.
He had a very long, very powerful tongue.
And he buried it inside of Clove.
Clove could feel the thick, twining muscle of it go deep, far deeper than Sobell’s fingers had gone, farther than Clove had been able to reach or could possibly reach by himself.
This time Sobell did not use his mouth with the same devastating accuracy as he had before, driving Clove relentlessly towards pleasure. What he took now, he took selfishly.
This was about what he wanted.
Clove’s enjoyment was an afterthought, but even at the height of his greed, that enjoyment never went away.
Sobell ate voraciously, using his tongue to excavate and open and taste every available inch within this new passageway.
He moaned as he did it—a low, gradual, muffled sound that stirred Clove to his core.
Shivering, Clove began to pant. Fists in Sobell’s hair, he yanked his head forward, urging him onward, and as he did, Sobell dropped one hand from Clove’s ass to first pleasure one of his cocks, then the other.
There was no way for Clove to escape another orgasm. He did not even try.
When Clove came, muscles pulsing and stiffening and clenching, Sobell pressed his lips aggressively flat against the throbbing entrance, tongue buried fully within.
Clove could feel the entire thick, muscular length of it rippling and licking him from the inside.
When Sobell finally put Clove down—resting him on the shelf again and spreading his legs, stepping in toward him, both cocks jutting out huge and desperately erect and pointing in the direction of what they wanted—it did not even cross Clove’s mind to protest the inevitable.
He had already had his new entrance thoroughly fucked by Sobell’s mouth. What was a cock or two, after that?
A lot, actually.
Sobell did not try to jam both shafts inside of him. Instead, the man leaned over Clove, close to him, and simply pressed one huge, swollen head against the well-licked gap, and slowly pushed his hips forward.
Clove’s entrance was drooling wet and tongue-stretched, but he was still fervently grateful that his terrible captor went slowly.
“It’s big,” said Clove stupidly, speech slurred from the exhaustion of so much pleasure.
“You make me this big,” said Sobell, his own voice low and somewhat unsteady. He rested his forehead against Clove’s, both of them looking down at the gradual penetration. “So big, so heavy, and so hard that it hurts.”
There was a line of grit, almost of pain in his voice; Clove was surprised to find that he believed the man.
“Let me carry it,” he said, and was just as surprised by his own words. “You can rest in me.”
Unexpectedly, Sobell’s lips were on his, and unexpectedly, Clove was not resisting.
He tasted his own wet sex on Sobell’s tongue and below, felt Sobell pushing steadily inside of him.
Stretching him. Driving deeper. Every inch between Clove’s legs flooding with the pressure of a man inside of him. Taking him. Fucking him.
Clove’s body adjusted quickly to its guest.
He was tight, flinching, feeling like he was much too small to accommodate even a slow-moving Sobell—and then, just as quickly, he wasn’t.
His body fastened slickly, fluidly on the immense shaft, and there was a feel of delicious gliding, of increasing vigor.
Sobell’s body moving more quickly, more roughly.
Sobell’s hands securing him tighter. Clove spreading his legs, cupping them with his hands, panting and listening to Sobell pant, and feeling waves of fantastic disorientation run through him.
Finally, Sobell was taking him hard.
Having him.
Panting, grunting, groaning overhead.
A man doing what men did…
Or what dragons did, anyway.
Clove carried it.
And finally Sobell let out a true, rattling dragon’s snarl, and his full weight dropped onto Clove in the aggression of those last, decisive thrusts.
He became pantingly still.
Extremely heavy.
Clove felt as though Sobell’s cock was nested so deep inside, its head might have come to rest somewhere around his rib cage. Aligned with his spine.
Skewering him.
It should have been an unpleasant thought, but it was one that Clove’s lust-tainted mind did not find unpleasant at all.
In fact, he found himself making an involuntary moan of protest as the dragon-man pulled away.
It seemed to take an age for Sobell’s whole cock to slide out, inch after inch emerging in slick whispers. Finally the tip slipped free, the bump of the large glans giving Clove a thrilling jolt on exit.
They both looked down.
Sobell had the better view; Clove could feel that his new passage was spread open, that it pulsed and gulped in unsated hunger and dragon seed. He could even hear the drip of cum into the water, echoing around the chamber. But he was too exhausted to strain his neck enough to see it.
Looking was pointless anyway.
He could read the whole picture in Sobell’s eyes, in the way the dragon-man gazed at him like he was starved and staring down a feast.
Clove had no warning, yet was unsurprised when Sobell descended between his legs again.
Head down.
Burying his face between Clove’s thighs, flattening his mouth against the man’s strange new sex, and sending his tongue in after his own seed.
Clove had never heard anything so messy.
He grabbed weakly at Sobell’s head, feeling a pulse of that mortification—but it didn’t last. It couldn’t last.
The tongue inside of him just felt too good.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last, either; no sooner had Clove begun to groan with pleasure than the tongue suddenly made a scooping gesture and dragged back.
Clove gasped, thighs jerking.
Sobell’s tongue slid out, carrying with it a pool of glistening white and liquid gold, a syrupy mess of mingled cum—man and dragon both.
Clove watched, mouth open in astonishment, as Sobell greedily gulped it down.
“You taste of heaven, love,” said Sobell, voice gone hoarse from pleasure.
He straightened onerously, then cupped the back of Clove’s head hard, giving no opportunity for evasion or objection as he pressed their lips together, tongue winding immediately through the seal of Clove’s teeth and into his mouth, sharing the taste of it at the same moment he palmed his cock between Clove’s thighs and slipped back into place.
Clove felt the dragon-man stiffening from the inside. Felt the long shaft swell against his walls, pushing his whole passage wide again.
He wrapped his limbs around his captor in mute surrender, and Sobell picked him up from the shelf, carrying him—cock inside, lips locked—through the water and up out of the pool, cradling Clove effortlessly against him, as if he weighed nothing at all, all the way to the entryway and past it to the bed.