Chapter Fourteen #3
He slowly rounds the bed to stand next to me.
But he doesn’t climb on my lap. He fiddles with an item behind his back; I’d been so distracted by his panties that I didn’t realize he brought something else out with him.
I arch an eyebrow at his hesitation, at whatever he’s hiding from me.
“You said—” He licks his lips. “You said to show you how I did it before you, right?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“Of course. I want to, I—”
“Bel.”
His eyes fly to mine. “Just—can you—can you talk to me?”
I actually feel my eyes darken. Feel the descending of something heady and greedy, and I reach out to trickle my fingertips down his thigh. His shiver looks like it anchors him.
“You need me to tell you how good you’re doing for me?” I start, gauging his reaction. He shivers again, but no, something on his face isn’t quite—hm. “Or you need me to tell you to get on this bed. Get on this bed and show me what belongs to me.”
There he is.
His eyes go hazy and his breathing accelerates, a clenched spasm of his lungs. Without another word, he climbs over me, past me, and kneels on the other side of the bed with his ass facing me, those panties contrasting against his pale skin.
The view alone is enough to have me adjusting my dick in my too-tight pants. I give up and take myself out, stroking slowly as he widens his legs.
“Beautiful, sweetheart,” I say. “Gods, look at you. Spread your knees a bit more—that’s it. You gonna get that hole opened up for me? Get it nice and loose. Take care of what’s mine.”
“Mm,” Bel moans. “I—”
His head flies up and he breaks out of the fog enough to look over his shoulder, a touch accusatory.
“No condom,” he tells me. “Right? We said we’d talk about it after last time but we didn’t, but I still don’t want to use one because you’re the only person I’ve been with and I trust you when you said you’re okay, and I—”
“Bel.” I give myself a long stroke, and his gaze drops to my dick, to the sheen of moisture at the angry red tip. “No condom.”
He exhales harshly. “Yeah?”
“Want me to come in you? You want to feel me dripping out of you the rest of the night?”
A shattering whimper rattles in his throat and he drops back onto his elbows, ass popping even higher. “Yes. Oh my gods. That. Yes.”
His tail whips through the air and loops toward his head, where he messes with whatever he brought out of the closet.
I stroke myself faster—too fast, have to breathe through my nose.
Bel wiggles on the bed, and his tail arcs back around.
Clutching a thick black dildo covered in lube.
For the second time in the span of a few minutes, he makes my jaw drop.
He lines the tip of the silicone cock up with his hole and gradually, steadily begins to fuck himself open with it.
While holding it with his tail.
“Holy shit,” rips out of me, and I pinch the base of my dick to thwart the rapid swell of effervescence that tries to consume me.
I told him to put on a show for me.
This is certainly one hell of a show.
The tip of the dildo pushes through that first ring and both Bel and I whimper, his back arching in a fluid ripple as his tail keeps a steady pace.
“Good?” he asks, panting.
“Holy shit,” I say again. “So good. Gods, sweetheart, look at you. You’re artwork. So sexy, just for me.”
“Just for you,” Bel echoes, and I see the blankets move as he nods. “Just yours. Say it, please, Orok—”
“Mine, Bel. All mine. You gonna take that whole thing? You’ll have to, if you want to take me, too. Fuck, just like that—you know exactly what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”
His toes curl, ass flexing, and more of the not insubstantial dildo vanishes bit by bit inside him. Between his legs, his hard cock is trapped in his panties but he leaves it be, while I can’t touch my own cock at all either, ecstasy pelting my senses from every angle.
He groans wantonly and shudders, keeps the thrusting pace for a few more minutes before he peers over his shoulder at me again.
That tail continues fucking him like it’s got a mind of its own, and Bel’s face is glossy with sweat and drool already, his eyeliner and mascara smeared across his temple as he asks, “Am I ready? Please, can you fuck me now? I need—need you in me. I’ll go slow, I promise.”
I nod, because I can’t take anymore either.
He immediately scrambles up, holding the dildo in his ass as he moves to straddle me, and oh my gods. That tail. The things that tail can do. Holy shit, we are definitely exploring more of that later, but for now, I help him move up my lap.
My thighs are too wide for him to fit his knees on either side of me, and I have a brief moment of panic mixed with mentally doing sex physics while I try to figure out how he’s going to ride me—because he’s clearly determined to ride me—when he tugs at my shoulders until I slide down the bed to lay flatter.
He plants his knees on my stomach, his legs folded under him along the tops of my thighs, and does a test bounce, fucking that dildo the way he’ll fuck my cock.
His inhale falters, swollen lips rolling into his mouth in a moan.
“Yeah?” he asks, breathy and delirious. “This okay? Your shoulder okay?”
“My shoulder’s fine. This is—”
A hiss slips through his lips. He pulled the dildo out of his ass.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I gently chastise. “You’re supposed to take care of what’s mine. I don’t want you hurting. Go slow, okay? Fuck yourself open even more on me.”
That delirium, that dazed look—he’s only half hearing me, and honestly, I’m only half aware of what I’m saying.
The lube appears, and he coats my dick before tossing the bottle and dildo on the bedside table and grabbing my cock. With his tail.
Oh my gods.
Did not know I had such a tail kink.
Bel’s head throws back as he places me against his hole and sinks down.
The tendons in his neck bulge, all the sculpted muscles of his athlete’s body straining to taut perfection.
I can count the squares of his abs, the lean lines that fan across his pecs; I’m touching them, tracing them one by one, locked in a trance as he levers himself up, down, up again, whimpering and rocking his hips.
His tail strangles the base of my cock and gods, that’s needed, needed because he lifts his hands into his hair, grips those strawberry curls, and moves his torso in a sinful undulation that shouldn’t be physically possible.
None of this, of him, should be possible, but he is.
He’s proof that gods do exist, and this, what we’re doing?
This is how you worship. This is how you honor the divine.
“Sweetheart,” I gasp, stroking his side, up to his armpit, back down. “So perfect for me. You’re dancing, do you know that? You dance while we fuck. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you writhing on me like my own performance. Dance for me, Bel. Make yourself feel good on me.”
He seats himself fully on my cock with a crackling shout, tail unwinding from the base, those twitching waves of motion flaring out to his limbs in jerks and spasms.
“S-so much d-deeper,” he manages, his eyes bursting open to lock on me like he needs that connection to orient himself.
He runs his hands over his head, down his neck, his chest. His palms stop, lay flat on his stomach, and he groans, symphonic and indulgent.
“I—I can feel you here. Oh my gods, Orok. You’re—”
He gives an experimental bounce and keens to the ceiling, tail lassoing around my ankle so snug I can feel the bite in my skin.
“Oh my gods,” he wails and fucks himself on me in earnest, toppling forward to brace his hands on my pecs.
I grip one of his wrists, letting him take what he needs from me, give everything to me. His eyes stay on mine as he launches both of us interstellar, and that connection becomes tangible, becomes binding.
Blood beats in my temples, in my thumb where it presses to his pulse point, harmonizing with the rhythm of his; we’re in tandem and sweeping each other away, matching intensities and driving each other higher.
It’s dangerous. If we’re both spiraling out, who will bring us back down?
Do we need to come back down?
Black makeup runs in jagged stripes down his cheeks, sweat sheening his skin mirror-bright. “Say it again. Say it, please. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you,” I say instantly. My fingers snag in his hair as I grip the back of his head and keep him looking at me. “I love you. I love you. You’re mine, and I love you.”
Bel lets out a sob, and he’s coming, his untouched dick pulsing from beneath the lace of his panties, shooting his release up my shirt, hitting my chin.
It yanks the orgasm out of me, demands I come, the sight of him falling apart over top of me, my body and the words I love you enough to get him there.
I grab his hip and thrust up into him, howling as I come inside him. Marking him. Owning him.
Bel’s body gives out, his face burying against my sweat- and cum-slicked shirt. He’s gasping, and when I curl my arm around him and try to adjust him, he whines in protest.
“No! No, don’t wanna—” He grabs behind him, at where my softening cock is still in his hole.
“I got you, sweetheart. It’s all right.” I ease myself out, and he whines again, but I’m quick to glide two fingers inside, plugging him, relieving the emptiness, the comedown.
The added warmth and slickness in his channel—that’s me. In him. A part of him.
A growl resonates in my chest, tangling with Bel’s satisfied croon.
I pull him higher to put a kiss on his hair.
I didn’t kiss him enough—I nudge his head until he looks up at me, tear-stained and disheveled and flawlessly ruined, and I kiss all over his face.
His nose, his lips, his eyelids. Kissing and sealing and claiming.
He rests his cheek on my collarbone, rigidity draining out of him with each quivering breath. The feel of him breathing, his heart beating on mine, his body warm on top of me—it drains my own tension.
He’s safe.
And, with him, I know I’m safe, too.
They took him.