Chapter 23 #3
It unravels with a long moan that makes his cock twitch. It comes hard, panting his name, and the two syllables have never sounded so beautiful. He wishes he could make it come over and over—he wants to brand the fucking sound of it into his ears. The sweetest thing that exists.
Instead, while it’s still catching its breath, he removes his fingers and pushes them into his mouth.
Licking and sucking the taste from them.
Watching it watching him. It’s so beautiful with its hair splayed out around it like a halo; the rays of a fox-fur sunset and he’s gotten what he wanted.
He got to hear it come for him, got to feel it clench around his fingers.
He swallows softly, knows that Lavellin should also get what it wants.
He lays his head to the floor, sure he knows what that is.
He offers his throat to it, pulls its palm over his windpipe, its taloned fingers pressing to the veins either side.
He takes his last deep breath.
“Go on,” he growls, knows it’s hotter when he pretends to want it.
Lavellin’s face softens, a gentle confusion. It pulls its hand away and leans down to him.
Torver tenses, waiting for the bite. For its sharp, golden teeth. For this to hurt more than usual.
But instead, warm lips find him, soft and slow. Lavellin kisses him like he is a precious thing, something sweet and enviable.
It coaxes a pathetic sound from him, its hands trailing across his chest, and he pulls it closer, the movement of his tongue and lips hastened by the throb of his dripping cock. Lavellin lays down, guides him with gentle hands to a kneeling position above it.
Parting its legs, it reaches down to gather its own wetness and spread it over the length of him.
“Can you?” Its eyes are narrow, half-lidded with lust. “Please.”
Torver pauses, recalibrating. Then, kissing it messily on the lips, the jaw, the pulsing, sweating neck, he murmurs, “Please what?”
It chuckles in low, heady pleasure as he aligns his crown to its throbbing entrance.
“I want you so fucking badly, Torver.”
He pulls himself away, and then back again, teasing its needy hole with the head of his cock. It growls with want.
“Oh, did you want my cock inside you?” he teases.
It nods quickly, eyes unfocused, pawing at his hips with its hands. Torver’s face widens in a grin as he says, “I didn’t hear you, Lavellin. I said, do you want me to fuck you?”
It groans in longing frustration, pulling him towards its dripping entrance. He can hardly believe the sight.
Lavellin who is cocky and self-assured, Lavellin who knows exactly what it wants—Lavellin who is reduced to a whimpering mess.
Its head tilts back when it begs him. “Please fuck me, Torver. I need it—please—”
Its voice catches when he pushes inside.
The wet tightness, the sight of it beneath him, sends a shudder through his body.
He moves slowly at first, his thrusts tender, watching the gentle bulge of its lower stomach that he swears is him.
Swears he is filling it up so big and so good he can see what he’s feeling.
Pleasure builds and spreads over his body, each thrust drawing moans from both of them.
“You like that, sweetheart?” he purrs, watching it writhe under his weight, holding both of his hips in its hands.
Lost to the world, it can only nod, can only breathe out the semblance of words. “All—yours. I’m—all—”
He matches his thrusts with his hand around its cock and it abandons speech, releasing a strangled moan instead. Torver bares his teeth, teetering on the edge. He could come just from the sight of it writhing like this—let alone with his dick buried inside it. Wet to the hilt with it.
Lavellin’s own cock is thick and hard in his hand and he runs his thumb over the underside, over the top, spreading the bead of wetness forming there. He thrusts faster, desperate, his voice hitching. He watches as Lavellin comes again, releasing hot cum over his hand, over its hard stomach
“Don’t— stop—” It reaches up to hold his head in both hands, pulling his face down until their sweating foreheads are pressed together.
The pleasure builds and builds and Torver is coming apart at the seams. His stomach tightens, a bead of sweat running the length of his curving spine.
“I’m not going to stop,” he assures it. “I’m going to fill you up, you gorgeous fucking creature.”
It groans feral and low, closes the aching gap between them. It captures his moaning in its mouth, the sounds of his building orgasm dulled by a tongue that laves against his. Long rolling strokes of Torver’s hips become frantic. He becomes a beast, wild as he ruts his orgasm into it.
“Fuck, Lavellin.”
His growl rattles in his chest. His whole body sings in ice-hot pleasure, cock pulsating and sensitive as he slowly withdraws from the hot slickness between Lavellin’s thighs.
Panting, Torver rolls to the floor next to it.
The air is still, humid. Heavy with the scent of flowers.
Their eyes lock, grinning stupidly.
“Wow,” he breathes. He brushes an errant strand of copper hair from its eyes. “If I had known it would be like that…”
Lavellin’s eyes narrow with its grinning. “Filthy Rath you call us down here, don’t you?”
“Filthy Rath, indeed.” Torver brushes his thumb along its cheek.
“Makes me want to beg you to do that with me every night.”
It catches his hand, the one tenderly caressing its face. It presses a warm kiss to his knuckles.
“They say you should never make a deal with the fae.”
Torver laughs and after they clean up, he pulls it into a tight embrace. They fall asleep like that—entangled entirely.