Chapter 11 #3
His fingers slide across the leather, and when they settle on the button of my jeans, I sigh with relief.
I lift my hips so he can slide my jeans down.
My belt hits the floor with a dull thunk.
He licks my cock from the shaft up to the head, before running circles around the tip.
His tongue is so thick and wet that if I closed my eyes, I’d think he had me in his mouth already. Except I want to watch.
It’s not just the sight of Christos worshiping my cock that has me enraptured.
His own cock is already leaking, a pearlescent drop sitting on the flat head of his girth.
He’s massive. The kind of dick I would take to brag about later, but even in my most horned-up state, I know I couldn’t take his width, forget about girth.
My ass clenches, comfortable in the fantasy of Christos mounting me.
He must notice me staring, bringing the broad flat of his tongue to lap against my slit at the head of my cock. Milking me for pre-cum.
“Shit—” I huff, as all the energy in my body rushes to my cock, like every part of me is eager to meet his tongue. I grab onto one of his horns, at first to steady myself, but then I get an idea. “Open your mouth nice and wide for me.”
He does, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
I place my cock on the tip of his tongue before grabbing other horn.
I jerk him forward, his lips wrapping around my shaft as it fills his mouth.
His lashes veil his eyes like a blushing bride.
I’m dying to hear him choke. Once he’s swallowed me entirely, I keep a firm hand on the back of his head.
“That’s my little slut,” I huff, struggling to maintain composure when his tongue caresses the underside of my cock. “Fuck… you’re not little at all. Your Daddy’s big slut.”
He gags, just for a moment, before settling.
I relax my hold on his head. He draws back, only to swallow me whole again when I yank on his horns.
He inhales sharply before relaxing once more.
I need to tell him how amazing he is. I’ve been reduced to nothing but vowels, complementing him with deep aaaahs and oooohs.
I try to say his name, but it comes out all wrong. “Kr–tsooo.”
My hips roll, fucking his mouth properly. He takes me entirely. Every choke is accompanied by a whimper. My end comes faster than I’d like, but if it were possible, I’d feel this—feel him, all night.
I catch my breath. Christos takes his sweet time sliding off my cock. I fall back onto the bed, this last maneuver taking everything out of me.
“Oh god.”
He runs his hand up my body, exploring my thigh and hips before settling below my ribs. The mattress shifts. The tips of his horns come into view as he crawls onto the bed. His cock throbs against my thigh.
I reach for him, finding his shoulder—or is that a biceps. It doesn’t matter. “Lay next to me.”
He does, helping me onto my side and wrapping his arms around me. “Still giving orders after all that.”
“I know my worth.”
I bury my nose in the crook of his arm. His fur is so smooth. I should say something. Tell him this was nice instead of instructing him, but the longer we lay here the more distracted I am by his raging hard-on.
He’s firm against my ass. I’m not sure if that feeling on my lower back is my sweat or from his cockhead. “Does it hurt?”
“There’s pressure… it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He kisses the back of my neck. “Nothing I don’t enjoy.”
Pressure only feels good for so long. I unhinge my jaw, trying to decide if I have it in me to repay the favor. Now that I’m not in the throes of lust, Christos’ size is less enticing and more intimidating. “The handjob offer still stands.”
He makes a noise at the back of his throat like he’s considering. “We’d have to move to the bathroom. The shower is an easy clean up.”
Either because I’m tired or nervous, a single word slips out. “Ominous.”
Laughing to himself, he nuzzles into my neck. “You’ve never been with a Minotaur then?”
“No,” I admit. “I’ve been with Dragonfolk—”
“The guy from the game?”
“Marcus? No, actually, we were going to hook up once. But then he kicked my ass so bad in video games I was too angry for sex.”
“You’re a sore loser?”
“You’re not?”
I refuse to believe a guy who has committed so much of his life to a sport is okay with losing. Then again, Christos is such a sweetheart that if anyone has found inner peace with losing, it would be him.
He chuckles, but it’s more at his expense than mine. “Anyway, I promise I have a system for clean-up. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“What sort of dom would I be if I didn’t help with cleaning up?” I turn my head back to face him, take his muzzle between my thumb and pointer figure. “Unless you’re interested in switching things up,” I offer.
“I like our dynamic. Not really interested in topping. If that’s okay.”
“Why wouldn't it be?” I don’t like how blunt I sound in my own ear. I turn over so we can face each other. “Topping is my preference. Yours?”
“If a guy asks, I’ll do it. I don’t know if I’d say it’s my preference.” He rubs the back of his neck. “A lot of people… expect me to fuck them.”
“Right—shit, I’m sorry.” I’ve been there. Men putting expectations on me to be their fantasy without any consideration for what I want. I’ve always been confident enough to shut them down, but it always sours my mood for the rest of the night.
“It’s fine.” His nostrils flair. “Great pillow talk, huh?”
“What’s wrong with productive pillow talk?” I touch his bicep. “It was a genuine question, and you gave me a genuine answer. No expectations or disappointment. Promise.”
“Well…” He places his hand atop mine. “I’ve done it before. I’d be open to it. Later. Honest.”
I lift a brow. “Ruin my hole after I ruin yours?”
“It’s only fair.”
“Well since we’re both being honest, I like it as a fantasy, not so sure about it practically.” My other hand plays with the hair between his horns. “To paraphrase a very sexy man, I maybe would be open to it. Later. But it’s not at the top of my list.”
He keeps smiling but there’s more to it now, a relaxed air that wasn’t there before. “And which sexy man said that?”
I tilt my head into the mattress, pretending to think. “I’m pretty sure it’s from To Frost the Thaw. You must not have gotten to that part yet.”
“Do not tell me you think the author is sexy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask, as if offended.
“He’s got crazy eyes.” He laughs like he’s been dying to say that for weeks. “And I’m not one to tell other furry monster folk how to maintain themselves, but he needs a good brushing.”
“See, I think he’d be a very thorough lover.” A yawn sneaks up on me, but I push past it. “Maybe I’ll make that my capstone project.”
He sighs, sitting up. “I already hate the no sleepover rule.”
“I’m not sleeping over…” I grumble, my cheek flat against the mattress.
He looks down at me and pushes my bangs aside. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy,” His soft fingers threaten to lull me to sleep and I force myself to sit up.
“When can I see you again?” he asks as he traces my collarbone with the back of his fingers.
Groggy, I crawl across the bed to grab my abandoned jeans. “I’ll give you my schedule.” As much as I want to crawl back to him, climb under the covers and take a nice long rest on his chest, I can’t break my own rules so immediately.
I text him a link, figuring it’s not too odd considering our last dozen texts have been about rink times. As I put my pants back on, he says quizzically, “It’s an excel sheet?”
“I have four formulas and a vision.”
“The colors are nice.”
Dressed, I get up to leave, catching him out of the corner of my eye still studying my schedule. He scrambles out of bed. “Let me walk you down.”
I glance at his now flaccid, but still impressive, penis. “I know it’s Halloween, but let’s not scare your neighbors.” I approach, getting up on my toes to kiss him on the tip of his nose. I whisper, “Goodnight, Christos.”
His voice is somehow softer than mine, despite a voice that could move mountains. “Goodnight, Roderick.”