“I’m too swollen and tender for you to even try right now. You’re too big, too hard, too… excited.”
Ingram stopped listening the moment he licked his fingers. He was too busy trying to shove his entire hand into his maw so he could curl his tongue around it and steal every bit of her tangy liquid.
His sight blackened, closing, as he violently shuddered.
Had he known she tasted so good, he would have speared her with his tongue.
He gripped her arse, shoved himself against her, and rocked her as he thrust his hips. “Inside, Emerie.” What had she called it, the action? “I want to fuck. I want you to shelter me as I come.”
Would that ease how violently his seed was ripped from him? It often felt like he was about to release his very soul through his cock. If she comforted him through it with her snug inner walls, would it not feel so damning?
“Ingram,” she warned, but the panicked hint in it was what caused his sight to open to the darkest purple he’d ever seen.
She looked pale, nervous… afraid.
He whimpered in need, but released her to dig his extended claws into his thighs to settle himself. He didn’t want her to be scared of him, but he was shaking.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped. “Please… touch me.”
Her eyes crinkled with uncertainty, before her gaze darted to his claws embedded deep into his own flesh.
“I want to. I want to ease you, Ingram.” She didn’t reach for the agony jutting between them. “But you’re too excited right now for us to do it like this.”
Was it because of last time? Because he’d flipped her onto her back and thrust against her chest?
He wished this desirous emotion didn’t grip him so cruelly. He wanted to be calmer, for it to not eat at him the way it did. Did other Mavka have this problem, or was it only Ingram that suffered so?
He thought she was intending to abandon him in this pathetic state, until she soothed her hand against his sternum.
“Can I try something? Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Anything.”
Right now, he’d say or do whatever, so long as she freed him from this.
He almost grabbed her in panic when she lifted off him. Emerie kicked her shoes and pants off, rather than pulling them up, and darted to her bag tightly strapped over his torso. He watched her as she pulled some rope from it.
Then she went behind him. His skull followed her.
“Can I have your arms?”
Although he was uncomfortable with the idea of being bound, Ingram still placed them behind him. She strapped his wrists to their opposing elbows, coiling the enchanted rope around his forearms to lock them together. Unless he wanted to rip his arm from his shoulder, he wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Just… listen out for Demons, or that Duskwalker, okay?”
Fuck, he was supposed to listen to their surroundings with his body in this state? He could barely register anything past his lust-filled senses, hyper-focussed on her sounds, her scents, the sight of her.
By the time her hands encompassed the head of his cock, he was so pent up that he whimpered. Even he could tell he was engorged, like every second longer he waited was punishment.
“You, uh, wanted something warm and wet, right?” she purred, her tongue dabbing at the seam of her lips.
With the fact she was kneeling between his now-spread feet, he didn’t think it was her pussy she was referring to. Yet, a Mavka could hope.
Beginning to stroke just the first half of him, keeping away from his latching tentacles, Emerie leaned forward. Then she opened her mouth, poked her tongue forward, and ran it from the groove just below his head, all the way up and then back over the top.
His clawed toes curled at the intense sensation of her tongue gliding over him.
“You licked me,” he grated, letting out an exhale of pent-up breath.
“Mhm.” She nodded for emphasis, licking at her lips.
He also noticed that her tongue had collected seed by doing so, and that she willingly drank it down, tasted him.
Emerie did it again, causing the muscles of his stomach to tighten. She squeezed the centre of his cock as she stroked, then she sunk the very tip inside her mouth. It was warm, damp, and her breaths ghosted over him like teasing waves.
His arms tugged, wanting her to go deeper. To sink her mouth down around him until she’d taken all of his throbbing, aching cock inside it – and probably down her throat too.
Had she not tied his arms, he might have pushed at her head to do so.
Instead, he was forced to experience blissful torture as she licked and sucked at him, all the while moving her delicate hands over his hot, hard flesh. Ingram’s skull tilted back further and further with each wet caress, his body wanting to rock and thrust.
The only thing stopping him from falling back was his tail propping him up, and the only things preventing him from bouncing forward were his legs, and her between them.
He was stuck, trapped by her.
She even kissed the sides of him, swiping her tongue over the spikey yet pliable scales that ran down him. Each of her tastebuds teased him, greeted him, and she seemed to have absolutely no qualms about drinking down his lubricant.
Actually, she quietly mumbled, “Your cock tastes really nice. It’s sweet and salty.” Then she nibbled up to the tip to dab her tongue at the hole where his seed kept bubbling from. “Even your cum is tasty. It’s like a diluted version of your scent.”
“Emerie,” he rasped with a shudder.
She was talking to him about his dick, complimenting it, complimenting him. She was swiftly pushing him closer, and the heated delight in her features made her appear giddy over it.
She was fucking killing him.
“So hard,” she stated, worshipping his cock with her hands. “Such a pretty colour of violet.” She sunk her mouth around the tip again and gave a little moan as she pulled back, like she truly found him delicious. “You’ve been so good tonight. So gentle. So patient and obedient.”
A growl burst from him when his shaft swelled at the word good. “Don’t stop,” he begged, huffing as he turned his head down to watch her.
He was greeted by the vision of this colourful, pretty butterfly using her hands and lips against him. Her blue eyes connecting with his orbs did strange things to his mind, his heart, and his body.
“Did you like finally getting to touch me?” she asked. “Feeling my pussy, my clit, and making me come for you?”
His whine was acute as his sac clenched.
“Faster,” he pleaded. “Harder, Emerie.”
His groin was in agony, moments from giving him soul-soaring relief. So close to release, he could feel it in his spine. His scales, fur, and spikes lifted and softened with each of his pulsating swells, like ripples and prickles were dancing across him.
She moved her hands faster while squeezing tightly, her mouth licking all over the thicker head. Smacking sounds came from her lips.
Her scent was ripe with desire, like she was enjoying doing this. It only reminded him of what he truly wanted, of what he was missing.
“Can you be a good boy and come for me?”
How could those two words, good boy, pierce through the fog, and shove him violently into bliss when everything else had been a crawl? His chest dipped forward as he threw his head back, parted his beak, and roared, seed shooting from him. The corded muscles of his neck strained at the tension that stiffened him. His arms pulled to break free so he could flip her and thrust through his mind-breaking release.