#cw oral sex

[2af-afterdark]

Talkin about appreciating or admiring the kings' dicks

You are just sitting there in front of a king, kissing, licking and caressing his dick oh so gently, just cause you like it, and it feels nice on your lips and hands

Just doing something cute before you get fucked into oblivion you know?

This wasn't a sprint request, but you get a sprint anyway because the request was kind of cute and it feels very Satan-core.

Content: Satan x GN!MC (you/your), blow jobs, Satan is uncut

Your lips were cooler than you thought, but you only knew that because the head of his cock was warm against your skin. The small white bead of precum slowly leaking from his tip was salty against your tongue as you lapped it up before returning to gently sucking him and licking along the glans that was usually covered by skin. His shaft was just as warm and soft in your hands, holding him in place so you could play with his cock at your leisure.

"Are you done?" Satan growled angrily as his already limited patience began to run out.

You glanced up at him with your lips still wrapped around the head of his cock, still mindlessly licking at it as he glared down at you.

You pulled away from him with a small pout on your face and an apology in your eyes.

"Sorry," you said with a string of saliva still connecting your mouth to his dick. "I was enjoying myself so much that I kind of forgot about you..."

"Did you?" His voice dropped deep enough that you could feel it vibrating across his entire body.

At the same time, his red eyes went wide and dilated, focusing on you like a cat about to pounce.

A tingle ran down your spine as the latent prey animal inside of you warned you that a predator had you in sight and was ready to take a bite out of you.

[simpingforclaudette]

cw: smut (oral sex), (consensual) voyeurism, reader insert, afab! reader

pairings: yoshii toranaga x reader, john blackthorne x reader

toranaga asking reader & john about eastern/english people’s ways and ending up watching them having sex, including john eating reader out and reader giving him a blowjob. thoughts? :3

[abubblingcandle]

I would love to hear more about your potential Being Human AU if you feel like sharing xxx

💚🌹💚🌹💚🌹💚

YEEESSS! So I don't know why, I just started vibing with Being Human (UK of course) again last week which then migrated to the endless AU possibilities of that show.

(Summary for anyone that hasn't watched it - vampire, werewolf, ghost live together. Hijinks happen)

So I then started thinking of a Roy/Jamie/Keeley Being Human AU and mulled over all the options in my head and I may write more than one of the options but the option I settled on was *drum roll please* 🥁🥁🥁 Werewolf Jamie, Ghost Roy, Vampire Keeley. Now this was for three reasons:

I needed Keeley to not be the ghost because I want S1 vibes and so Roy and Jamie couldn't already be friends

Keeley as a pocket vampire was too fun to avoid and in mine she's more of a Hal (ancient vampire who has very VERY severe mood swings around blood) than a Mitchell (baby vamp who wants to go sober)

The angst potential of both werewolf Jamie and ghost Roy was way too good to miss out on

It's going to be a one shot series not a full plotted singular fic as I am already writing one television episode style fic and I cannot do another. Also in the show there is a lot of cute dead time but I don't think it would be cute in the fic.

The fic story posted in this AU is going to be the first meeting where Keeley and Jamie move into the house Roy is haunting and here's a bit of the first meeting

Warning - it partially sex scene (the first sex scene I have ever written fun fact!)

Roy had seen a lot of things in his time as a spirit. He had also avoided seeing and hearing a lot of things in his time as a spirit. But as he was staring into the cupboard for something to leave a threatening message with for this new couple, he froze in place. “God Jay,” came the whine echoing through from the mostly open plan living room. Roy tensed, fingers digging into the course fabric of his jeans in an attempt to settle himself. Damn people in his damn house. “Yes there, Jamie yes,” Keeley groaned, her voice cutting right through him. Roy stood, the voice like a tether turning him out of the kitchen and to stand in the doorway of the living space. Keeley was sat up onto the dining room table with her legs spread wide. Her skirt was hitched up to bunch around her waist and the feet clad in dainty little pink heels were hooked over Jamie’s shoulders. Roy’s fingers dug into the doorframe just as Jamie’s fingers dug into Keeley’s thighs. Her back arched as another whine ripped out of her throat. Jamie’s face was pressed against her crotch and with every move of his head Keeley was shuddering in place. Her hands tangled in Jamie’s hair, taking control, as Roy stumbled one step backwards. This wasn’t the first time he had stumbled in on the residents of the house having sex. Usually Roy would just start rattling some drawers and throwing stuff and that got them to stop pretty quickly. Not this time. This time Roy stood there, watching. If he had any blood then his flush would match the one spreading across Jamie’s bare back as Keeley yanked on his hair with each motion. “Fuck!” Roy cursed, screwing his eyes shut. “What the fuck!” Keeley screeched, but in panic instead of the ecstasy that she was chasing. Roy’s eyes flew open and he saw Keeley looking him right in the eyes and her jaw wide. Jamie’s was sprawled back on the floor, his face flushed and wet but also looking up through his eyelashes … directly at Roy. “Get the fuck out of our house!” Keeley squealed, yanking her skirt down. “Get the fuck out of my house!” Roy yelled back instinctively. “Ain’t your fucking house perv,” Jamie growled, now back onto his knees and bristling. “Wait,” the situation finally caught up with Roy, “you can see me?”

[chaoticgeminate]

Kinktober 2022 - Day Twenty One

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (If that was not entirely clear)

Series Summary: You’re a fanfiction writer turned novelist, which was great since it was the path you wanted your writing to take you down in life. What you never thought would happen was meeting the Javier Gutierrez, who you actively write smutty fanfiction about from his film with Nic Cage, and you especially didn’t expect him to have a crush on you.

Fast forward several months of dating, with a good chunk of your relationship being distance due to his constant traveling and having to go home to Mallorca, when he surprises you with a prompt list and a vacation planned around exploring it.

You haven’t even worked up the nerve to tell him about what you write and post to Tumblr about him as a character yet.

Notes: Going to be using prompts from @the-purity-pen for my meta as hell indulgence! There are feelings in this (I have no idea how they got there) and I may end up removing some possible chapters here and there depending on how I’m feeling, I apologize in advance if that happens because my brain is super mean sometimes.

Possible Warnings: Nipple play, Javi has a praise kink, lots of feels.

Nipple Play & Praise Kink (1.1k)

Initially the little package you were holding had been for you, the clamps had a delicate rose gold painted chain on each one with little white cubic zirconium gems throughout it, the strength of the clamp was enough that you could feel it but not enough to hurt. But over you time here you’d learned that Javi had sensitive nipples, he really enjoyed it when you played when them, and the idea of putting these on him had its appeal.

But you also thought about getting him his own.

Finding an adult shop on the Cayman Isles was much easier than you thought, luckily, and Javi was still very distracted in his video call with Nic and two other actors pre-selected who had agreed to take on their roles for the film. The mock-up scripts were in work but the team had enough to begin choosing a cast, from what he’d said, and you sent him a text about wanting to buy something before grabbing his keys.

Sometimes it was still jarring that he trusted you with vehicles he owned or rented, since they were always luxury, but the weirdness of driving them on your own was almost gone completely; it wasn’t like you didn’t trust him with your car. The comfort you felt being with him, how fast the two of you seemed to be moving, might have scared you if he was anyone else. But even long distance you were able to learn about him, the little details said over screens and whispered on the phone lines when neither of you wanted to go to bed.

You loved him, you knew you wanted to be with him, so delaying it felt… silly.

Even if he lost everything tomorrow, you’d still love him, his possessions and money didn’t make him your Javi, he was a good man and you wanted to giving him a reason to smile every day for the rest of his life.

By the time you’d gotten what you wanted, and a few other things, you were sure Javi would be either done or close to done with his call; right as you parked and headed inside you heard the sound of the chair legs scraping on wood and Javi’s excited footsteps as he scampered out of the office. You couldn’t -and didn’t- fight the smile at his golden retriever energy as Javi hurried down the stairs, caging you in his arms and kissing you silly.

“I take it something good happened?”

Javi’s eyes were so bright as he stepped back, bouncing on the balls of his feet and fidgeting, reaching out to take your hand and pull you up the stairs with him. The fact that he hadn’t said anything was the proof you needed that it was great, that if he tried to articulate it the best you’d get would be random noises of glee, and Javi sat you down in the chair to point at the screen.

You set the small bag down off to the side of the chair so he wouldn’t go snooping, turning your focus to the point of excitement.

Not only did the three pre-selected actors he’d wanted agree to star in his role but he had the director and team that he wanted, you knew exactly why he was like this, and Javi captured your face in his hands as you jumped out of the seat to kiss him.

“I’m so proud of you, cariño! I knew you’d be able to negotiate this, you’re so talented and passionate and everyone knows it.” Javi’s face went ruddy under your praise and you rubbed your nose to his before grabbing the sides of his button down and nuzzling into him more. Javi was clinging to you and a part of you recognized him as trying to fight how excited he was over this personal win, likely close to exploding with joy.

In the past he’d been forced to keep his reactions at a ‘respectable’ level.

But the past was the past for a reason.

“My creative,” a kiss to his cheek as you pushed him back toward his desk chair, “hard working,” his body collapsing into it and pulling you down into his lap, “sweet,” his hands grabbed at your hips as your knees bracketed his hips, “media naranja.” The soft whimper that left him made you smile against his mouth and lean back, carding your fingers through his soft curls and make sure that he couldn’t hide from your praise.

You felt him getting hard under you, felt the effect you had on him when you showered him with the compliments he deserved, and Javi was trying to capture your mouth in a kiss to hush you. He didn’t expect your fingers to drag down his chest, catching his nipples and making him whine, but you couldn’t help how you squealed when he suddenly pushed you onto the desk. His tablet was moved from under your butt and you could tell he was planning on getting his mouth on you, he had promised every room in this house would be fair game.

Before he could you slid off the desk and snatched the bag up, wagging a finger at him.

“Not yet, handsome boy, I got something for you first.”

Watching as Javi’s hands clenched as he sat in the chair, face flushed and hair mussed in a way that made him look debauched when you hadn’t even made him cum yet, made you feel like this was going to be something you saw often. You had every intention of praising him liberally and often. Javi’s eyes were watching as you grabbed the fancy box from the black bag, it looked like a bracelet box but inside were nipples clamps for him. They matched yours almost exactly, you’d brought them with you to see if you could find similar, though his lacked the gemstones you had plenty of chain to play with.

Javi swallowed thickly as you stripped out of your clothes and set them carefully on the nearby chair, his own shirt tossed aside and his pants following, but he moaned so pretty when you put the first clamp on him after kissing his nipple gently. Watching his cock bob against his stomach as you teased his other nipple with your tongue, the feeling of his hands gripping your biceps gently, it made you smile before carefully fastening the other clamp.

“Please, ride me Solecita. Fuck, want to feel you-“

His plea became a low, throaty, desperate sound when you instead sank to your knees and licked up his shaft with the flat of your tongue. The chain on the clamps was long enough for you to reach comfortably, especially sitting down like this, and Javi fucked up into your mouth when you tugged after sliding your lips around the head of him.

“Don’t worry cariño, I’ll ride you, but first I want to have some fun.”

His desperate mewl made it all the better when you took him in your mouth and tugged, he was so sensitive that it made you wonder just how fast you could make him cum like this.

All Fics Taglist: @hardc0rehaylz @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @musings-of-a-rose @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @AynsleyWalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

Kinktober Only: @nicolethered @katareyoudrilling

[searenbound]

Prefacing this by saying that I’m not trying to kink shame, I’m just genuinely confused

I know suspension of disbelief is a thing but I genuinely don’t understand how giving a blowjob can be enjoyable for the person giving it? Like I genuinely don’t understand how someone can get off to have a sweaty meat tube shoved down their throat? Is it an adrenaline thing? Is it the fact that you’re submitting that gets you off? Like I factually know why people get off to being submissive, I’m just personally not into it because of my existing control issues would cause me to have a breakdown if my partner were to do something I wasn’t prepared for. Like I get some people like being manhandled and used, there’s nothing wrong with that as long as it’s consensual. It’s just that subbing goes against the core of my personality so I struggle to understand why it’s enjoyable.

That’s not easy to explain in my opinion. It’s a multitude of reason and differs from person to person so there’s no one exact reason why. Either you like or you don’t

Personally it is about control for me but depending on the situation it can be a way of domination and control over the receiving party instead of submission. I also have an oral fixation that’s mostly satisfied by sucking on something so I find it natural extension of that. But mostly, it’s the fact they’re receiving pleasure from it.

[kiraofthewind]

The Ophidian Revolution, part 2

Part 2 of my loredump. I've applied tags, but be aware that there was a lot of shit happening during the revolution, so content warnings apply. Particularly for death, murder, slavery, sexual acts, and heads exploding.

The night of the Revolution occurred on Razum 23, which correlates to October 10th on the Terran Calendar. A chill autumn night. Ophidia chained her husband to the bed using manacles given to her by Farnel. She sneaked into her sons’ bedroom and did the same to them. Lira (about 15 years old and involved in the plot) helped out. All across the planet, women did the same. Many chained their husbands to their beds. Many shot them with their guns. Lord Selfishness created portals linking the Makai to Orochi so the demons of the Makai could help out. It was a massacre. Overnight, men were killed, beaten, tortured, and enslaved.

The King of Orochi did not have a wife, but rather several concubines. The concubines waited until demons distracted the guards, then they ganged up on him. They tore off his golden crown and jewelry. A few days later, they would melt it all down and reforge them into golden manacles and collars. Noblemen from across Orochi were gathered in the capital, Ophiuchus, and forced to run down the streets while women beat them with whips or whatever they had handy. Those who survived to the end of the gauntlet were usually executed, but Ophidia kept the ex-king chained to below her throne until his death a few years later. Her husband (the First Slave) was also chained there for the rest of his life. Rumors say Ophidia would force her husband and the ex-king to give each other oral sex, but there’s no evidence for this being true. Some other rumors state their penises were cut off, so it would have been difficult to do that. The gauntlet became a yearly tradition called the Royal Parade, though since there are no more noblemen, they just use slaves who have committed grievous acts.

The God now known as Windesoar was a 4-year-old boy living in Orochi when the Revolution happened. He was declared unfit for breeding, and so his penis was cut off. He escaped from Ophidia about a year later.

Ophidia was declared Empress of the new country, which was named after her, and Lira was her Heir Apparent. Lira was, unfortunately, mentally ill. She’d been abused all her life, and then when she was suddenly given power overnight, she abused that power. Her cruelty was so legendary it was rumored that Hira would feed *just* off her cruelty to gain energy. Rumors of “Lhira” (the idea of Lira+Hira being one entity) spread even to the enslaved men who believed that when Lira became Empress, their slavery would involve mandatory torture.

Side note: A scientist working for Lira discovered a magical acid (hydroiodic acid where the iodine atom is saturated with Death elementrons). It was named after Lira because she enjoyed using it to torture men.

In the year 1, soon after the formation of the Aloutian Empire, the nation of Ophidia also converted to Spiritism. Here’s an account by St. Ancognidel regarding her meeting in the Empress’s court:

The Empress’s advisor, Minako-gozen of House Ayameyama, addressed me. “On behalf of all Orochi-Ophidia, this court, and my Empress Ophidia, I declare that we will joyously worship your God, spread your religion, and pay any sacrifice he demands under one condition.”

            “My brother Lucognidus will not negotiate,” I said. “He will not tolerate being tested, nor will not curry favors with those he conquers.”           

            “I would never be so brash as to ask God for a favor! I am a loyal servant, and I know my place is to serve, not to demand! No, my condition is this. If you are real, Lucognidus, and you proclaim yourself as God, then my nation will worship you only if you strike me dead where I stand!” Minako spread her arms wide and faced the ceiling, mocking the heavens.

            Her head cracked open with a mighty explosion.

Thus the nation of Ophidia converted to Spiritism.

In the year 8, Lira was killed by a man, who was then, of course, tortured and killed brutally. Lira’s death broke Empress Ophidia, who became sullen, silent, and ‘lost her wits’ according to historians. With no heir and no governing ability, power transitioned to the Heads of Orochi, who declared the country would become a Republic after the Empress’s death. Ophidia had been going slowly insane already, however. Lord Emberdyme was the Lord of Insanity and one of the deals Ophidia made to get his support was that he'd slowly make her insane. She was insane *before* Lira's death. But her death only made it *worse*

Empress Ophidia died in the year 8, shortly after Lira’s death. She often went on walks alone in the forest to get away from court life, and one day, she came upon a man sent by his master to catch fish in a pond. The man, knowing this woman was the source of all his ills, overpowered her and held her head underwater, but was surprised to find she was a Water elemental and could not be drowned. He instead smashed her head against a stone, then left her body in the pond. Since she was a Water elemental, she went to the Water Realm, where the Goddess Liqua showered her with praise and love, because Liqua herself became a female supremacist after she learned about Ophidia.

The man who killed Ophidia would, of course, be caught, tortured, and killed for his crime.

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

Mereel Skirata x Tomo (Cloneship)

@starwarsanthropology 's medic OC, Tomo got me so inspired, I couldn't let their precious boy's wishes to be unfulfilled >:3 Thank you for telling me about him, I really love his unhinged everything <3

Mind the tags before clicking the link!

[2af-afterdark]

Lord of the Mountain

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Content: Malleus x afab!Yuu|Player (you/your), fantasy au, oral sex (Yuu recieving), Malleus is a dragon-man and we monster fuckers shall feed, yuu is shy, first times, yuu is a virgin, double dicks for our dragon✌️ A/N: Planned for this to be longer, but the spot I hit was cute sooo... Also, you know, real life is kicking me in the teeth right now Word Count: 912

Malleus – the fabled terrible lord of the mountain whose moods controlled the very weather and earth around him; whose happiness made crops grow plentiful and healthy and whose anger split the sky with lightning and thunder – held your knees apart to admire the space between your legs that you'd been trying to hide by closing them. His emerald eyes bore into you, a thousand questions dancing at the tip of his tongue but not one being asked as he concerned himself more with studying every inch of your beauty; the shape of your hips, the build of your frame, the swell of your breasts hidden behind the cup of your hands, the shyness on your face as you looked away from him, he etched all of you into his eyes and committed it to his very long-lived memory.

He intended for more senses than simply his sight to admire you. He buried his head between your legs, pressing his lips against your lower ones. His long, black tongue dragged through your wet folds, then effortlessly doubled back to get another taste of your chastity. 

He savored the flavor of your arousal, demonstrating the restraint of a saint so as to not ravish you entirely despite his desires. You were, at the end of the day, only human and he had to use a delicate hand when handling you or else you may just break beneath his claws. 

But when he glanced upward, you were not looking at him. Your eyes were turned away, while your lip was practically red from how fiercely you had been biting it to muffle your own voice. You were the perfect visage of nervousness and anxiety, but he intended to chase that expression away.

His hands slid beneath your buttocks, lifting your hips enough to lift them into the air and press firmly against his mouth so he could slip his tongue inside of you. The small, surprised gasp you made as he licked the sides of your inner walls threatened to test his patience. After all, you were a feast. So much so that he had to forcefully pull himself away before he devoured you whole.

Malleus pulled away from your dripping hole. “That should be enough to allow your body to accept me.”

“My lord,” you said with warm cheeks as you stared away from your own nudity, trying to ignore how your lower half burned and throbbed with want after what he had done, “I don't think there is a human alive who could welcome all of you.”

He didn't have a frame of reference to compare himself to a human male, but surely he wasn't that much larger. Not enough to be of concern at the very least.

He repositioned himself between your legs, sitting up so he could rest his hardness – both of them – against your mound. The hand holding your left leg open was replaced by a tail curling around your thigh so Malleus could press a spot on your lower stomach.

“They will only reach to here.”

Only.

As if the place he was touching wasn't a hair's breadth from your belly button. As if you were supposed to find it comforting as he brushed his fingers over that spot. As if you weren’t lying under a man – well, a dragon technically speaking – for the first time.

“My lord, that's still quite the feat.”

“Is it? It seems normal for a female dragon to take this much. Are humans different?”

“I wouldn't know, my lord.”

The corners of his mouth pulled slightly downward. “We've spoken about using titles and you’ve already uttered mine three times.”

You felt your face grow warm in shame and embarrassment as he pointed out your behavior. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to referring to you by name yet.”

“Even now?” He asked.

“Even now,” you confirmed.

“Shall we delay the ceremony until you're more comfortable?” He continued to ask, but the way his erections twitched against your entrance in anticipation told you that he was eager to proceed.

“No, my lord.” As nervous as a part of you was, you wanted the same thing deep down. “I'm ready and willing. Please allow me to officially be your bride.”

Bride was the term given to those residents – male or female, man or woman, old or young, rich or poor – of your village and many others nearby that were sent as a sacrifice to the lord of the mountain. When the fields were barren and the water ran dry, they were expected to throw themselves at the lord's mercy and convince him to grant prosperity to their families and neighbors. But you would be different than all his previous brides, because you would be the first one to truly be his mate – or, that was the term he used, at least, but it sounded so animalistic that you still chose to use the phrase you were more accustomed to.

As soon as he had your permission, you could feel something fat pressed against your entrance, already pushing its way inside.

An unease rose up in your stomach for what you knew would happen next. “M- my lord?”

“It's only one and I shall be gentle,” he promised as he leaned over you. He laid his palm against yours to lace his fingers with yours. “Tell me if you would like to stop.”

“I don't plan to,” you replied as you curled your fingers around his. “Please continue.”

[transwolvie]

If incest is so taboo and verboten then why the FUCK do I gotta see shit about it ALL THE TIME gotdam. Sick of being fucking jumpscared by trans horny blogs suddenly talking about fucking their moms/sisters, sick of people reblogging untagged fandom shit about how they love the incest in their horror game, sick of having recommended posts from fandoms I'M in that are untagged incest ships!

I feel like I see people bitching constantly about how they're oppressed for their incest kink and if so WHY DO I GOTTA SEE THAT SHIT EVERYWHERE

[amoremorbido]

product of the brain at late is that i am wishing again i could tear you apart.

dig my nails into your sides until they draw blood.

sink my teeth into your shoulder and come back with a piece of you on my tongue.

in all my dreams i am a knife.

sharp. red. instrument of the end.

i wanna know what you look like when you’re bleeding out.

i wanna know how you sound when your throat is slit.

a little death is only ever a precursor. an appetizer.

i want to hold your life in my hands.

i wanna feed your heart to you in little pieces.

who are you?

who am i?

just a knife without a hand.

and the flesh that craves it.

[modernmisadventures]

Chapter 10: Becoming Reacquainted

She prowled about her bedroom, kicking aside piles of clothes and stacks of books as her temper simmered and roiled. She’d just spent two hours in a tutoring session that had doubled as a one-sided flirtation, and the effort of tossing off the blitzball quarterback’s rather persistent importunings had left her with a low-grade headache and a serious need to bite something. Someone.

Instead, she shut herself in her rooms, ignoring her mother’s call for dinner, and hunted for anything to keep her mind off of her irritation. Unfortunately, little enough in her room would help with that. Everywhere she looked, there were memories - mementos - presents from beyond the sea. For five years, she’d received letters and packages alongside emails and texts - week after week, month after month.

And yet the fucking bastard had never once told her he was back.

(Warning: Smut under the cut. Read at your own risk.)

Anger warred with sorrow as she circled around the room, trailing her fingers across bottles of perfume, rare books, and a few curiosities from Hingashi and Doma. He hadn’t forgotten her - hadn’t forgotten about her - not in the five years he’d been gone. Every gift he’d sent had been chosen with an eye to please the girl she’d been, the woman she’d become. He’d not just skimmed her letters and emails - he’d read them, and he’d taken what they said to heart.

She paused, picking up a plush velvet pouch. Inside she could feel the hard cylinder that was one of her most prized gifts - a powerful, expensive lens for her camera, one that would help her capture close-up shots of the moons themselves were she to aim it skywards. She hadn’t yet used it; it had been the latest gift to arrive, only a few months ago, and her studies had kept her from taking it for a spin.

Replacing it on her desk, she turned away and instead wandered over to her bed, collapsing into the piles of plush pillows. With a mutter of discontent, she wiggled her way into the cushions until all that showed was her flicking tail and the sweep of her horn-tips. Closing her eyes, she allowed her thoughts to drift, fragmented and incomplete, restlessly wandering from one topic to the next as she allowed them free rein, seeking to still their anxious mutterings.

There was no telling how much time passed between the moment she laid her head down and the moment she heard the creak of her bedroom window. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. Either way, she snapped out of her trance in a heartbeat, her tail stilling, her breathing growing shallow.

Cautiously, she eased her head up until she could just barely see over the top of the pillow in front of her. A hulking shape stood upon her sill - a shape she knew all too well. At the same moment she saw him, he saw her, and she could see the glint of his teeth as his lips parted in a grin. “Cip-”

That was as far as he got before the first pillow smacked him fully in the face. He grunted and batted it away, then caught the second, using it to deflect the third. “How dare you?” she demanded softly, hurling yet another pillow as she came up to her knees, ignoring the way her pillow flinging had disarranged her robe. “I should scream! Let’s see how you handle the guards!” Despite her words, her voice was barely more than a fierce, angry whisper.

“If you don’t stop,” he growled, “you’ll end up with pillows in the tree. Gods all bless, Ciprys, hear me out.” Holding a pair of pillows in front of him as a shield, he stepped down off of the sill onto the soft carpet below.

Fury had its grip on Ciprys. “Why should I?” she demanded, her voice starting to rise despite her caution. “Why should I extend such a courtesy to a louse like you? You’re exactly what my mother always said! A cad! A bounder! A- agh!”

Sometimes, patience wasn’t the answer. Irritated, Cirdan crossed the room in two long strides, reaching down and closing his hand around the back of her neck, shaking her lightly. Her eyes snapped at him, but she fell silent. Despite his anger, his tone remained soft, mild. “If you don’t watch yourself, you’ll have the servants - or the guards - in here. Is that what you want?”

Ciprys craned her neck back, glaring up at him. “Maybe,” she replied sullenly, but her voice was soft. “Would serve you right.”

Sighing, Cirdan squeezed her neck, then released her, sinking down to sit on the bed while she sat back on her heels amongst her cushions, staring at him with an expression less and less angry. “Perhaps. I probably should have told you I was back.”

Lavender eyes glinted. “You think?” she sneered. “Just how long have you been back?

“Two months.”

“Two months!” At his soft hiss, she lowered her voice. “It took you two fucking months to tell me? And even then, would you have if we hadn’t met up in the bar?”

His turquoise eyes were calm. “Why do you think we met in the bar?” As she sputtered at him, he continued. “Of course I knew you’d been going there. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t keep track of you?”

She bared her teeth at him. “Why would I think that? Why would you? I wasn’t even important enough to inform of your return.”

He knew her; in this mood, she’d cling to that slight until he addressed it. “I will concede,” he said evenly, “that I could have told you, but,” and he raised his voice over hers, then modulated it when she lapsed into sullen silence, “I wanted to have all of my ducks in a row first.”

If she’d been a miqo’te, her ears would have been laid back. As it was, her tail lashed amidst the pillows, sending some of them tumbling to the floor. “What ducks?”

Leaning back on his hand, he studied her face. “The kind of ducks that would allow me to thumb my nose at my mother’s choice of bride and take my own instead. Establishing myself, making my reputation, pleasing my father enough that he’ll stand up for me and not her.”

It was rare to find Ciprys speechless. The woman had a mouth that never quite stopped moving. But now she simply stared up at him, mute, her eyes as wide as moons. He gazed down at her, resisting every urge to touch her. “I promised you years ago,” he reminded her.

“A promise made between children,” she stuttered, finally finding her voice. “I would never hold you to it, Cirdan.”

The sound of his name on her lips - it had been too long, damn it. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again and gave up the fight not to touch her. His hand came up, cupping her cheek; as always, nearly swallowing her face. So tiny. And yet. So damn big in his life.

“A promise I meant wholeheartedly every time I uttered it, Ciprys,” he said softly. “There was never anyone else for me. Not like that. Not from the moment you first stormed out of that house and stood up for me.” 

The lavender eyes that watched him were wary, and that wariness broke his heart. Never once had she looked at him with anything less than utter faith. And he’d broken that faith with the best of intentions. “You were hardly celebate in Hingashi…”

His lips quirked. “Nor were you here,” he pointed out. “Neither of us was shy about regaling the other with our tales of conquest, so you can’t hold that against me.”

She huffed. “I could if I wanted to be unreasonable,” she argued sullenly. When he smirked at her, she stuck out her tongue, then sighed. “I missed you, you asshole. Did you ever take that into consideration when you were making all of these grand plans?”

He stroked her cheek, then dropped her hand away. “I did, but maybe I overestimated how pleased you would be.”

“It’s not that I’m not pleased,” Ciprys replied, sinking down and burrowing through her pillows until she could rest her head upon his thigh. “I’m very pleased. I’m just not happy that you thought you had to hide things from me as well.”

He stroked his hand across her short cap of hair, tangling his fingers amongst the black and lavender strands. “My love,” he murmured, and felt her catch her breath, “it’s not that I wanted to hide things from you, it’s that I wasn’t certain when - or if - I could pull it off. My mother is most adamant about me marrying the Master’s granddaughter, no matter what she or I think of the arrangement. And since the Master finds the match suitable, I have a very uphill battle.”

Ciprys pressed her cheek into his leg, knowing her horn was biting lightly into his flesh. She’d consider it due payment, but experience had told her that he was not against a bit of pain in their play. “Why don’t you just marry her?” she asked in a small voice. “If she doesn’t want to wed you either, she surely would not object to you keeping a mistress.”

His fingers tightened in her hair and he hauled her head up until her neck craned at an awkward angle. Turquoise eyes blazed. “You are not my mistress, Ciprys Dreamweaver. You are my wife, and by all the kami, I swear, I will wed you and no other.”

“Cirdan,” she said thickly, and he could see her pulse racing in her throat.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“I-”

“Say it.”

She stared up into those angry eyes. “I’m your wife,” she managed to choke out despite the angle at which he held her head.

He jerked upwards, forcing her to her knees, and impatiently covered her mouth with his. She kept her hands down, balling them into fists; she knew the game, the utter submission he demanded after her shows of defiance. It was the same sharp edge they’d walked for years once they’d both discovered a taste for the interplay of dominance and submission, of defiance and punishment.

Her taste had not changed; ripened, perhaps. Matured. But it was still spice with a hint of sugar at the edges, all heat and lightning, charring the edges of his mind. He forced her mouth open, felt her tongue tangle with his, her teeth scraping his lip in one last gasp of disobedience before she melted into him, allowing him to feast upon her without resistance. He kept his hand fisted in her hair, using his grip and nothing else to hold her in place as he reached down and roughly yanked open her robe. He closed his hand around her bare breast, fingers tightening just shy of bruising before he gentled his grasp, finding her already-erect nipple and rolling it between his finger and thumb.

She whimpered against his mouth and he felt her body straining towards him, felt her breast press eagerly into his hand. He considered briefly taking her there and then; it wouldn’t be the first time they’d made out here in her bed while below her parents watched their television shows and lived their dull, uninteresting lives. But he had no intention of stopping once they truly started, and he preferred not to risk their pleasure on the possibility of accidental interruption - at least not by anyone who wouldn’t appreciate the sight of their bodies mating and melding together as one. Instead, he released her, easing her down to the bed and unfisting his hand, carefully untangling her hair from his fingers. “Get dressed,” he told her.

She stared at him with eyes gone blind from lust. “What?”

“Get dressed,” he repeated, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger and shaking her head slightly. She blinked, sense returning to her eyes. “I’m taking you home with me.”

She studied his face for a moment, and he saw the brief, automatic flare of refusal, watched it dampen almost as immediately when she bowed her head, then scrambled from the bed. Her robe fell behind her, leaving her naked to his hungry gaze, and he watched without shame as she went pawing through her clothes for something to wear. “Don’t bother worrying about how it looks,” he advised her, leaning on his elbow and staring unabashedly. “You won’t be wearing it long.”

She sent him a long, cool look over her shoulder. “I will not go before your bodyguards looking like a whore, Cirdan Takechi,” she told him as she fished out underwear that belied her words, drawing it on. “As fun as it might be to watch you beat them into submission, I’m certain that is energy you ill wish to waste on them.”

Over the bra and panties, the garters and stockings she drew a relatively demure outfit - something he imagined her wearing as she walked the halls of academia, learning all the many things she learned. Suitable, he mused, for out of doors - and nothing she’d be wearing at all more than a step over his threshold. He could live. “Do you want an overnight bag?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “Not this time,” she murmured, with just a hint of regret. “I’ve had no time to lay in a convenient excuse. You’ll just have to see me home before the sun rises.”

He slid from her bed and crossed, kneeling down before her as she looked around as if seeking anything she might have forgotten. “It won’t be long,” he promised her. “I’ve almost brought my father around; that’s all I’ll need to make this work.”

Her lavender eyes still held a hint of wariness, but she nodded, then stepped in and wrapped her arms around his neck, as she had a thousand times before. And as he had a thousand times before, he hoisted her in his arms and covered the distance to her window, neatly nipping out of it and into the tree beyond, carrying her effortlessly off to his castle in the clouds.

She’d never been to the apartment. Before he’d gone to Hingashi, he’d lived, like she did, with his parents. She’d spent plenty of time in his suite of rooms at the sprawling mansion that overlooked the neighborhood, but he’d rarely taken her anywhere else - certainly not to any of the other properties owned by his parents. She was, he mused as he carried her into the lobby, ignoring the stares of the guards that were scattered around the plushly appointed foyer, his dirty little not-so-secret.

She didn’t mind. She liked being dirty. Especially with him. And as he’d been hers in turn, she could hardly complain about it. So she merely smiled sunnily at the guards and wrapped her arms firmly around Cirdan’s neck, tucking her face against his throat. “Do you always carry your girls past them?” she asked softly as he strode across the lobby.

“Of course not,” he replied, equally soto voce. “No other would be worthy of such an honor.”

Such different worlds. For all of his forward thinking, there were many ways in which Cirdan clung to the past and the world of his Hingan ancestors. For the most part, it suited her; Hannish traditions were not so different, and for all she rebelled against her familial expectations, she appreciated her history and the world into which she’d been born.

She half expected him to pin her against the wall once they got on the elevator, but he did nothing of the sort. Not to say he didn’t kiss her; his self-control would never be good enough not to take advantage of a private moment with her - but he contented himself with the hungry press of mouth on mouth, the clench of fingers on flesh as he pressed her close and feasted at her lips.

The soft chime and the hiss of the doors opening drew them out of their heated embrace, and Cirdan strode off of the elevator, still clasping her in his arms. He shifted her slightly once they reached one of the two doors on this floor and fished out his keys, unlocking each lock with careful patience. The door swung open and he carted her inside, booting it shut behind them.

Once more he defied her expectations. What she could see of the bottom floor of the apartment told her there were plenty of places he could have deposited her and dived in, but he ignored the counters and couches, the chairs and floor, and kept his grip solid as he paced up the spiraling staircase that led to the second floor.

She had the impression of yalms of glass, the stars shining bright beyond despite the lights from a city ignoring the siren call of sleep. Then they were through another set of doors into a spacious bedroom that rivaled the open space downstairs for sheer size. There was seating, there was more glass, but the only place Ciprys saw clearly was the alcove where the Au Ra-sized bed waited.

Here, Cirdan did not bother with decorum. He tossed her, and she landed upon the plump mattress with a soft gasp. “Strip,” he told her tersely, even as he took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her with those otherworldly turquoise eyes. She stared up at him, eyes wide, then climbed her way to her knees and then shakily to her feet, balancing carefully on the shifting mattress.

She could feel his eyes on her, intense and hungry as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse, small, slim fingers flicking first one, then the next open. When she reached the waistband of her skirt, she paused, gripping the silky material of her shirt and pulling slowly upwards, untucking it. Then she finished unfastening the buttons. Her eyes downcast, she gently nudged the blouse open, letting it slide slowly from her shoulders and down her arms to pool on the mattress at her feet.

A peek at his face told her nothing; he continued to watch her with the same impassive patience he’d shown from the beginning. Her eyes on his, she reached down and tugged at the tongue of her belt, slowly easing it open. Once it was unfastened, she reached behind her to unhook her skirt, then ease down the zipper until it slid along her stockinged legs, joining the crumpled blouse at her feet.

Now she stood before him, her small, firm breasts caught in black lace, another swatch of the same barely covering her crotch. A thin satin garter belt surrounded her slim waist, the lacy garters snaking along her thighs to catch the tops of her sheer black stockings, holding them in place. When she began to reach behind her to fumble at the hooks of her brassiere, Cirdan held up a hand. Obediently, she dropped her own away again. “Come here.”

Gingerly, she stepped out of her clothing and eased herself off of the bed, padding across the floor to stand before him. He reached down and took her chin between finger and thumb, lifting her face to study it thoughtfully. He could see, beneath the demure mask she wore, her own excitement and pleasure - and yet, still, there was that shadow of wariness that warned him that she still wasn’t entirely certain of his motives.

His thumb slid across her chin, caressing lightly, then he moved past her to sit on the edge of the bed. “Undress me,” he invited her, and she ghosted closer, feet silent upon the rug as she reached out to flick open the buttons of his shirt, one by one. He kept his gaze trained on her face, watching her expression as she eased his shirt open, slim hands gliding across his bare skin as she pushed the panels apart. She eased the sleeves down his arms, pausing to unfasten his cuff links and set them aside before stripping the shirt from his body.

Then she froze, arrested by the spray of ink that curled around the scales of his lower torso, a teasing hint of turquoise and gold suggestive of a flared tail. Swallowing, she abandoned her charge, climbing up on the bed and circling around behind him. “Oh,” she breathed, and he could feel her fingertips fluttering across his skin like the kisses of butterflies, dancing over the swirls and slashes of ink that twisted between his obsidian scales. “Cir.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and causing the flesh of his back to stretch, showing off the design etched indelibly into his pale skin. “Continue,” he murmured, goading her back to her duties.

She swallowed and climbed off the bed again, then came around before him. “If it pleases you, would you stand?” she asked him, her words polite, her tone demanding. He smiled then, the first curve of his lips since they’d entered his bedroom.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, grabbing her by the back of her head and dragging her in for a hard, hungry kiss before abruptly releasing her. As she staggered back, he rose to his feet and stepped away from the bed, holding out his arms.

She gazed up at him, hunger warring with nerves, then reached out to unbuckle his belt, drawing it slowly apart before tackling the hooks and zipper beneath. The soft, thin cloth parted beneath her fingers and she nudged it downwards until it pooled about his ankles, caught on his shoes. She stared at the tight briefs that hugged his hips and thighs and bulged over the long, thick length of him, already aroused and eager for her.

But she did not touch his underthings; not yet. Instead, she lowered herself to her knees and bent down, drawing off one loafer, then the other. His socks followed and he stepped out of his pants, allowing her to bat them aside. Then she sat back on her heels and lifted her head, her gaze burning along his calves and thighs, flickering over that conspicuous bulge before skimming across his muscular torso to meet those watchful eyes.

He gave her no orders, merely waited, arms crossed over his muscled chest. Of their own accord, her eyes fell back to the line of him where it pressed against the restraining cloth of his underwear, and she rose up on her knees, reaching up and peeling the thin black fabric down his body, freeing him at last to her hungry gaze.

He was as long and thick as she remembered, perfectly proportionate to his body. Like the rest of him, he was pale gold, though his swollen head was darker, engorged as it was with blood heated by desire. Reaching out, she laid one hand upon his thigh to steady him and wrapped the other about him, barely able to touch her fingertips together. He hissed sharply, his arms dropping away, fists clenching by his side as she ran her hand along the length of him, feeling him pulse and strain against her palm.

With her eyes rolled up to meet his, she leaned forward, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of him. Already, there was the taste of salt, a hint of dampness that told her his desire would not be long restrained. As she opened her mouth and fitted her lips around the shaft of his cock, she felt his fingers fist in her hair, pulling tightly and sending a welcome pain shooting through her scalp and down her neck. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a breath through her nose and settled herself at an angle that would allow him to slide down her throat without choking her.

It had been years since last he’d fucked her mouth, but some memories were timeless, and some lessons never unlearned. It took every onze of patience he was capable of harboring to prevent himself from thrusting too hard, too deep; for all her eagerness, he was intimately aware of their absolute differences in size; in truth, she could have stood and just barely bent over and been able to take him easily in her mouth.

She, too, remembered just how to stand, how to angle herself, how to breathe around him as he slid in and out of her mouth, in and out of her throat. The years fell away as she allowed herself to fall back into the memory of the last time they’d done this, that last day before he’d shipped off for Hingashi. Younger, less seasoned, they both had nevertheless had desire - and stamina - on their side. Her jaw had begun to ache long before he’d spent himself down her throat, and she found herself yearning towards that sweet pain once more.

Abruptly, his hand tightened in her hair and he drew himself from her mouth, catching at her wrist and keeping her from grabbing him. “Not there,” he said hoarsely, his eyes intent on her face. “Not this time. You’re not sixteen any more, Ciprys - and I’m home to stay. ‘Tis time this deal was sealed for good.”

Her body shivered, her breath quickened. Oh gods, she thought. Oh gods, it’s happening. “Cirdan,” she began, her voice thick and hoarse, words forced out of her abused throat.

His fingers tightened further, forcing her head back, forcing her up off her knees and onto her feet. “You’ve had your time. You’ve had your fun.” He spun her around and shoved her against the bed so that she was sprawled over the edge, her hips and ass in the air. Effortlessly, he pinned her down, one hand on the back of her neck as he tucked his fingers beneath the black satin of her panties and ripped them downwards. The snaps that held them in place popped open and soon she was left in only her bra, stockings, and garters.

So small. So narrow. And so fucking damp, he noted as he slid his finger along her moist slit, feeling her desire coat his skin. He thrust his finger inside of her and she whimpered, hips rising, feet scrabbling at the edge of the bed as she pushed herself up until she was kneeling atop the mattress, shamelessly exposed to him. Her tail arched upwards and swept to the side, providing a frame for her sex, already coated in eager cum.

He slid a second finger inside, already filling her, stretching her. As he worked his fingers in and out of her, he listened to her shameless whimpers and smiled. “Beg for me, little wife,” he murmured, and heard her breathing grow labored. “Come for me, and beg for me.”

“Please, gods, please, Cirdan. Please.” Her hips strained upwards, her spine bowing to present the perfect angle, the perfect opportunity. He could see her flesh twitch and tremble beneath her lavender skin as she spread her thighs wider and lowered her head and shoulders, bracing herself against the bed. 

He leaned down, keeping one hand on her neck to hold her in place as he ran his tongue along the slit of her sex, tasting her desire as a tingle upon his tongue. She cried out, then whimpered, her pleas growing hoarser and more demanding. “Say it, little wife,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her, then sliding his tongue inside. “Say it.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!” As she begged, he straightened and took ahold of himself, pressing the swollen head of his cock against her slit. And when she screamed the words, he thrust roughly inside of her, expecting no resistance.

His revelation coincided with her grunt of pain, and he froze, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Ciprys!”

She mewled when she felt him shift. “Don’t stop!” she pleaded. “Gods, please, Cirdan, don’t stop!”

“Gods, Ciprys, how?” His voice was a whisper, driven from him by shock. When he would have pulled free, however, she cried out in negation, that single word vibrating off of the walls around them. Helplessly caught, he slid back in until he was fully engulfed within her body, pressing against the end of her as she strained beneath him, caught on that fine line between pleasure and pain.

“Yours,” she panted. “Always yours. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No one else.” He felt her fight against his hold on her neck and released her, letting her twist until she could peer at him with one desire-blurred lavender eye. “Take me,” she said clearly. “Make me yours.”

Helpless to do anything but comply, he began to move within her, slowly at first, giving her a chance to adjust to the sensation of having him inside her. As he slid in and out of her body, he could feel her muscles twitch and vibrate, protesting the intrusion; then felt the moment she gave herself over to the pleasure, felt her go lax around him, no longer binding, but welcoming. With a gasp that was half-relief, half-guilt, he quickened his pace, watching her with the intensity of a stalking tiger.

He could see it, feel it, sense it, the moment he found that spot within her body. Experimentally, he shifted his angle, sliding the head of his cock over it again and again. She began to shiver and tremble, her breath coming in labored gasps as her hips strained up and back, eager for him. Abruptly, she screamed, her voice ripping through the air with the same intensity as the orgasm that spun through her, spiraling outwards from her core to engulf her entire body. He didn’t let up, keeping her riding on the edge of blinding pleasure as he felt his own climax build, build, build - 

Abruptly, he gave a hoarse shout and shoved himself in, burying himself to his balls inside her body. One moment, two, then he came, his hot seed pouring into her, filling her to capacity and more. He remained inside of her even after the orgasm had fled and the last of his cum had dribbled out into her womb, half-fearing to see the proof of what he already knew. “Ciprys,” he began.

“I need to lay down,” she told him weakly.

He sighed and slowly extracted himself, wincing every time she twitched and flinched. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

As he slid out, she collapsed on the bed. “Don’t be,” she muttered hoarsely as she lay on her stomach, cheek pressed against the sheets, knees bent haphazardly beneath her. “It was my choice.”

Unable to answer that, Cirdan instead stepped backwards. He gazed at her where she lay sprawled upon his bed, mute evidence of their joining thick upon her ass and thighs. Abruptly he turned away and crossed the room towards the bathroom, sliding the doors shut behind him as he hunted up a washcloth. Turning on the tap, he let the water run to heat it and moved to use the bathroom.

When he returned, the water was hot. He soaked the washcloth and washed himself up, rinsing it out and wincing as the water turned pink. “Damn it,” he whispered. “Why hadn’t she told me?”

He knew why. It never would have occurred to her that it mattered.

But it did. He’d never have been so rough if he’d known she was untouched in that fashion.

Carefully, he rewetted the washcloth, then grabbed a clean towel and exited the bathroom, striding silently back to the bed. She hadn’t moved, and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep - but her tail twitched as he approached, and he realized she was simply replete. “Hold still,” he said gently, reaching down and pressing the washcloth against her. She hissed, but did not stop him as he carefully cleaned her, rinsing away his seed and her cum and blood. Once she was clean, he dried her off with a towel, then eased her off the bed. “You need to go pee,” he told her.

She looked at him blankly. “I mean, yes, I do, but…?”

He stroked her face with one finger and she nuzzled against his hand. “It will help prevent you from getting an infection,” he explained. “You should always pee after sex.”

This was not exactly how she’d expected this to go, and, confused, she took the towel he handed her. “Are you… angry?”

Shocked, he stared at her. Then his whole expression softened and he knelt down, reaching out to take her in his arms. “Angry with myself, a little,” he admitted, “but with you? No. Never. My love,” he murmured, wrapping her close. “I’m humbled. Honored. I never thought you would save yourself that way. You spoke of so many things you had done…”

“Well, yes,” she said, leaning against him and reveling in the feel of his body against hers, “but nothing you and I hadn’t already done together. I wanted to save any firsts for when you came back.”

He framed her face with his hands, once again reminded of how tiny she was as his palms nearly swallowed her face. “I’m humbled,” he repeated. “And I wish I’d thought to do the same. I wish I’d known - I’d have made it special for you.”

She gazed at him, lavender eyes clear. “It was with you,” she said simply. “It couldn’t have been more special.”

He swallowed and leaned forward, kissing her gently, then released her and stood, stepping back. She minced her way carefully across the floor, and he winced to see how gingerly she moved, knowing that the soreness would not go away any time soon. While she tended to her body’s needs, he stripped the sheets and hefted them towards the hamper, then got out a fresh set to remake the bed.

She returned just as he was plumping the pillows. “Come, lay down,” he invited, turning to watch as she stepped carefully up to him. “No,” he corrected himself, “come here first.” He sat on the edge of the bed and she came up to him, settling in between his thighs. He reached down and carefully unsnapped her bra, then unfastened her garter belt and garters. Gently, efficiently, he stripped off her remaining underthings, then scooped her up and deposited her on the bed, crawling on to stretch out beside her. She curled up in his arms. “Rest, baby,” he crooned. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go home.”

“Not sleepy,” she mumbled, rolling over and dragging his head for a kiss. “Still want you. Touch me, Cir,” she sighed, eyes fluttering closed as he lowered his head to run his tongue over a nipple still hard from earlier. “Taste me. I need to know you still want me.”

He sucked lightly on her breast, rolling his tongue across her nipple and nipping lightly. “Of course I still want you,” he replied, shifting his attentions to her other breast. “You’re mine. I’m going to want you until the day we die.”

He heard the soft click and glanced up, smiling to see her tomephone angled to catch a photo of him sucking on her tit. “Just letting them know what we’re up to,” she said sleepily. “Gods. Your mouth. Your hands. I’d never forgotten, but memory can’t hold a candle to the real deal. Don’t stop touching me, baby. Don’t ever stop touching me.”

His hands glided over her body as he continued to worship her breasts, laving them with loving attention. Even as he felt her body go lax, heard her breathing even out, he continued to shower her with kisses, tracing the edges of scale and skin with his lips and tongue, just reveling at finally having her back in his bed.

Finally sated, he stretched out beside her and wrapped himself around her, all but enveloping her in his arms as she curled in against his chest, snuggling tight against him. He rasped out a command to his clock to set an alarm for two in the morning, giving them enough time to clean up and spirit her back into her bedroom, none the wiser.

Only for a little while, he told himself as he drifted off beside her. Soon. Soon he would prove himself, and claim that which was his. Which had always been his.

And give himself to she to whom he had always belonged. To whom he would always belong.

Ciprys, his mind whispered, and he fell into slumber, wrapped possessively around her.

And in her sleep, she held him fast, trusting him to keep his word once more.

[asexualactivities]

Hi there! Recently I’ve been letting my partner go down on me (afab) and I really haven’t found many ace-friendly resources about oral sex. Do you have any resources or anything that could help me?

I don't think there's been much on that topic here, unfortunately. What sort of help are you looking for?