20. Chapter Twenty #3
The stretch is exquisite. I look down and find him watching me, his pupils blown wide, his mouth buried in my cunt. Water streams over his shoulders and drips from his horns, and he’s never looked more beautiful.
He drags his fangs down the length of my slit with a pressure so controlled it makes me tremble, the threat of them sharpening every sensation to a blade’s edge.
He rests them just above my clit, a whisper of danger, and then his tongue flicks out and his fingers curl and he sucks, and the combination of all of it, the soft and the sharp and the deep, sends me hurtling over the edge.
I scream his name. My thighs clamp around his head and my body wrenches tight and then shatters, wave after wave crashing through me while he works me through it, his tongue never stopping, his fingers never slowing, drawing every last tremor from my body until I’m limp and shaking and gasping against the wet stone.
He pulls back slowly, pressing one last kiss to my oversensitive clit before rising to his full height. Water drips from his mouth and chin. His eyes are blazing.
“Mine,” he says, and the word is a promise.
He stands slowly, his body uncurling from its kneeling position to tower over me.
His fingers stay buried in my slick folds, easing through them with lazy, possessive strokes while the water streams over both of us.
I’m still trembling from my climax, still gasping, when I feel his fingers glide through my folds.
He gathers my arousal on his fingertips, dragging it downward from my entrance to the tight bud of my back hole, and I jerk hard at the unexpected sensation.
“Shh,” he breathes, and his mouth finds mine.
He kisses me deeply while his fingers circle that forbidden place, spreading my own slickness around the tight ring of muscle.
I taste myself on his tongue, salt and musk and something sweet beneath it, and the intimacy of it makes me moan into his mouth.
His fingertip presses, just barely, not entering, just resting there with a promise of pressure that makes my entire body tighten and yearn.
I cant my hips, needing more.
“Can I touch you here, Miro? Tell me no and this will go no further,” he rasps.
His eyes are wild. Hair sleek behind him. He’s in complete control. I know he is, but there’s a desperate edge to him that heats my blood. I push down against his finger. “I want you to touch me there, Zavin. Please.”
His breath shudders out as one clawed finger, impossibly gentle, slides past the tight ring of muscle and into me, and the sensation is exquisite.
It’s wrong and right all at once, a fullness I’ve never felt, a stretch that borders on pain but tips into something far more dangerous.
Pleasure radiates outward from that single point of entry, lighting up nerves I didn’t know I possessed.
“Beautiful,” he rasps. “You’re so tight here. So perfect.”
His finger works deeper, slow and patient, and I feel myself opening for him, yielding to the intrusion in a way that makes my inner walls clench around nothing. I’m suddenly aware of how empty my cunt feels, how desperately both places ache to be filled.
“Miro.” His voice is strained now, barely controlled. “I want to enter you here as well with my cock. Not just my fingers. I want both of your holes. I want to impale you on both of my cocks at once.”
It takes a long moment for his words to reach me through the haze of sensation. When they do, my mind simply blanks. A white void. No thoughts. Just the image his words have painted, and the impossible, shameful, consuming want that follows it.
Another surge of arousal floods from me and my scent blooms sweet in the steam. A dark chuckle rumbles through his chest.
“Is that your answer?” His amber eyes burn into mine. “I need to hear your words, little human.”
I open my mouth. My voice comes out as a rasp, wrecked and desperate. “Yes. You can do that. Zavin, I want you to fill me. Both of me. Please.”
His next kiss is uncontrolled, devouring, his tongue spearing into my mouth while a growl tears from his throat.
His hands drop to my thighs and he lifts me, spreading my legs around his hips and pressing my back against the wet stone wall.
The position opens me completely, and I feel both of his cocks slide against my folds, hot and slick and impossibly hard.
He grinds against me, the twin ridges of his shafts parting my lips and dragging across my clit with devastating friction, and I almost crest again right there. A sob tears from my throat. I’m so close, so empty, so desperate to be filled.
Then he adjusts his hips. I feel the blunt pressure of one cock nudging my cunt while the other, slightly lower, presses against the rosebud he’s just prepared. Both tips rest at my entrances simultaneously, and my whole body locks up with anticipation.
“Miro.” His voice is ragged, barely human. “I’ll only do what you allow. I want nothing more than this, but I’ll stop right now if you say so.”
He trembles against me, holding himself back by the thinnest thread. And that restraint, that care, undoes me more than anything else could.
I tilt my hips. A deliberate, unmistakable roll that presses both of his cocks harder against my entrances, the tips threatening to breach me in both places at once. The sensation is terrifying and holy and I need it more than I need air.
“Please,” I sob. “Please enter me. Both of me. I want all of you, Zavin. I want to be so full of you I can’t think. Please.”
His eyes flare. He pushes inside, and the world stops.
Both cocks breach me at once, a slow, inexorable invasion that steals my breath and my voice and every coherent thought I’ve ever possessed.
One shaft, the slightly thicker of the two, stretches my cunt in a way that borders on too much, filling me so completely I can feel him in my belly, pressing against places no one has ever reached.
The other, nestled just below it, pushes into my back hole with a pressure that sends lightning up my spine and stars across my vision.
I am split open. I am remade. I am nothing but the feeling of him inside me, two thick lengths of scorching heat moving in tandem, stretching me in both holes until I can’t tell where I end and he begins.
The thin wall between them is all that separates his cocks, and I swear I can feel them pressing against each other through my flesh, twin pulses of his heartbeat that match my own.
“Look at me,” he growls. “I want you to see what you’re doing to me.”
I force my eyes open and what I see destroys me. Zavin is magnificence carved from fire and shadow. The water sheets down in rivulets that trace the stacked ridges of his abdomen, catching on every bronze scale and scattering the light until he looks gilded.
His claws dimple my thighs where he grips me, the tips pressing just hard enough to remind me of their sharpness without ever breaking skin.
His hands are enormous, spanning the width of my hips.
The tendons flex beneath the scales of his forearms as he adjusts his grip and pulls me down onto his cocks.
“Beautiful,” he rasps. “You’re taking all of me. Both of me. Look at you.”
I look down. The sight of my own body stretched around him, both holes filled to bursting, is so obscenely erotic that another surge of arousal floods from me, slicking his shafts and making the next thrust glide deeper.
The base of his cocks are ridged, subtle rings of raised flesh that catch on my entrances.
The first true stroke pulls a scream from my throat. Both cocks withdraw together, dragging against every sensitive nerve in both channels, and then he drives back in, filling me again in one powerful surge.
His hips roll against mine, grinding his pelvis against my clit on every downstroke. His cocks fill me, his body rubs me, his claws hold me exactly where he wants me, and I am helpless against the onslaught.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice a ruin of gravel and need. “Take me. Take all of me.”
His jaw is clenched, the muscles standing out in sharp relief, and his fangs have lengthened, protruding past his lower lip.
His amber eyes are wild, pupils blown so wide they’ve nearly swallowed the gold, and they never leave my face.
He’s watching my every reaction, cataloguing every gasp and moan, adjusting his angle and rhythm based on what makes my eyes roll back.
His tail tightens around my calf, a reflexive squeeze of possession, and the rhythm of his hips falters for just a moment—a crack in his iron control that tells me he’s as undone as I am.
His brow furrows. His mouth parts around those lengthened fangs, and something shifts in his expression. The wild hunger is still there, burning bright, but beneath it something raw and unguarded surfaces, something that looks almost like fear.
“I love you, Miro. My female. My everything.”
I reach up through the steam and the water, and I cup his face in my hands. I trace the hard line of his cheekbone with my thumb and watch his eyes flutter closed for just a breath.
I say it against his mouth, my lips brushing his. “I love you too, Zavin.”
A sound tears from his throat, something between a growl and a sob. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and his claws flex against my hips. The wet slap of our bodies echoes off the stone walls. His claws press harder into my hips, dimpling the flesh, and something in him snaps.
He drives into me with a speed that blurs the line between pleasure and overwhelm.
His breath comes in harsh, ragged bursts against my collarbone.
The sound is animal, desperate, a growl that lives in his chest and claws its way out with every exhale.
His claws skate up my ribs and around my back, pulling me down onto his cocks, and still I want more.
I want everything. I want him to lose himself inside me completely.