Soft, warm lips nibbled on the upper shell of his ear, and he shivered again, delighted. Tarquin nosed through the hair behind his ear, making him lean his head to one side, kisses trailing down one side of his neck. He breathed out a low moan, clinging to Tarquin’s biceps, the muscles harder than rock and hot under his hands through the fine dress shirt Tarquin wore, the fabric straining around his shoulders.
He slid his hands up and threaded his fingers through thick, dark hair, the strands soft and silky. The scent of petrichor rose around them, a cool breeze laden with a hint of rain after a storm. It was intoxicating and he wanted more.
Alaric whimpered, wanting to be closer, and big hands cupped his ass and he gasped. Tarquin lifted him and Alaric wrapped his arms and legs around him, the dragon grinning wickedly up at him as his face went red and hot from how brazen he was being.
Tarquin carried him carefully across the room, dodging piles of gold and priceless objects, and then they tumbled into the pile of pillows and blankets. He giggled, Tarquin coming to rest between his spread legs, arms securely around Tarquin’s neck, holding his dragon to him. He was heavy and solid and warm, and Alaric loved it.
Big hands roamed over his sides, waist, and belly, and he grabbed Tarquin by the head and took his mouth in an open-mouthed kiss when fingers deftly undid his fly and slipped into his pants to grip his aching cock. He tried to lift his hips into the caress but Tarquin was holding him down with just his weight, and it drove him crazy. “Please,” he whimpered, breaking the kiss just long enough to beg. “Please, more.”
“As you wish, my treasure,” Tarquin whispered over his lips before kissing him deeper, harder, making him moan.
A few strokes of his hard cock was all he got before Tarquin pulled back enough to start tugging at Alaric’s clothing. He got the same idea and started ripping at shirts and pants, both of them nearly frantic to get naked.
Bare skin, silken smooth and hot, covering hard muscles and lean lines made him want to explore and play, but he was too eager, full of want so powerful it ached. Awed, he ran his fingers over the brilliant blue and purple scales that shimmered over Tarquin’s broad shoulders and a bit way down his back, the scales smooth to the touch and shiny as gems, until Tarquin took his mouth in another kiss. Deep kisses and desperate gasps for air consumed him, and the way Tarquin curled over him, all power and sensual grace, left him gasping for more.
A big hand stroking him from root to tip with a devious twist at the top had him whimpering and crying out, writhing on silken pillows, fingers grasping and tearing at satin sheets. He shouted when a hot, wet mouth sucked him down in one slick swallow, Tarquin sucking on him like he wanted to devour every inch of him. Never had he received a blowjob given with such fervent enthusiasm and he was going to die, happily and with a smile on his face. Hips arched into the sucking, hands grasping and tugging in dark hair, Alaric flew apart into a thousand shards as he came down Tarquin’s throat.
A pleased rumble came from the dragon as Tarquin sucked him clean and then let Alaric’s spent cock slip from his hot mouth. Open-mouthed kisses slithered up his quivering belly and chest as Tarquin crawled over him, smug and satisfied. Tarquin kissed him and he could taste hints of his spend on his lover’s tongue and he moaned, shaken down to his core, cock valiantly twitching as lust coiled up inside him.
A big hand curved around his ass and dove into his crack, curious fingers exploring, pressing on his hole. He was tight after coming, body still shivering through the aftershocks, and he was hypersensitive and aware.
“May I, trésor?” Tarquin asked huskily.
Alarin whined and gasped, lifting his hips into the demanding touch. “Yes. Yes, now!”
It made things even more decadent when magic shimmered and those fingers became slick, one long digit breaching his defenses and sinking to the last knuckle inside him. He gasped, opening his legs even more, the pressure inside almost painful and overwhelming, but he wanted more. Tarquin pressed on his prostate and he cried out on a sob, head arching back into the pillows, trying to escape even as he lifted his hips into the hand working him open.
He never enjoyed penetration after an orgasm, becoming too sensitive, anal too painful with his muscles tight. The two men he’d slept with since high school grew tired with that and eventually only let him come after they got off, if they could be bothered after getting off themselves. Sex was something he tried because he felt like he should enjoy it, but he spent more time with his hand and a dildo after the first few lackluster encounters.
Until now. Tarquin worked him hard with demanding fingers, catching his cries in deep, languid kisses, eventually opening him enough to slip three fingers into his tight hole. Whatever magic he employed kept Alaric wet and slick, so much so that Alric could hear Tarquin’s fingers playing in his ass, making him blush hot. Every few strokes inside, Tarquin would zero in on the tiny bundle of nerves and push hard, making him gasp and sob and twist about on the pillows. Each demanding touch made his cock grow harder, invigorated again after his orgasm, weeping precum at the tip and flushed red, balls drawn up tight.
Tarquin broke their kiss and gazed down at him, stormy eyes full of heat and desire. “May I have you, my treasure?”
Alaric nodded hurriedly, grasping and tugging at broad shoulders. “Yes, please. Please.”
Tarquin carefully pulled his hands away, leaving Alaric open and aching, and a big hand took him by the hip and gently turned him over on his belly. He gasped, somewhat nervous and nearly mad with want, a pillow slipping under his hips, lifting his ass higher. A hot hand gently rubbed down his spine, pressing his shoulders to the bedding, and a knee knocked his thighs open until he was lying with his ass up and open, ready for whatever Tarquin wanted to do to him.
Tarquin lowered himself onto him, and he gasped at the hot, hard length that nestled into the cleft of his ass. It was huge.
“If it gets to be too much, tell me, and I will stop,” Tarquin breathed into his ear before nipping the lobe, making Alaric buck underneath him. “Promise me you’ll say if you don’t like something.”
“I promise,” he sobbed out, trying to twist his hips enough so Tarquin would sink into his depths. “Please, please, please.”
“My treasure,” Tarquin growled, and then Alaric was gasping, writhing, the thick head of that huge, hard cock breaching his hole and slowly sinking inside.
It hurt, the stretch and the burn, muscles yielding to the demanding length sinking inside of him, but it felt better than anything he’d ever experienced. It felt like Tarquin carved him open and hollowed him out, pouring magic and desire into him even as that impossible cock sank deeper and deeper, putting pressure on his prostate, Alaric whining and sobbing, biting at a pillow he yanked toward himself.
Tarquin covered him completely and held him in place for each deep, rocking thrust, slow and steady at first, going as deeply as he could with each thrust of his hips. Hot breath whispered over his neck, Tarquin licking at the base of his neck, sucking up marks as he fucked Alaric into the pillows.
He was babbling, incoherent, a mess of pleading cries and sobs for more, always more. He lost track of time, of anything but the pleasure of Tarquin inside of him, stretching him, fucking deep into his core. The pain receded but was still there, and he loved it, a few hints of discomfort from the huge cock inside his ass sparking with every thrust. Sweet pleasure swept through him, languid and drugging and leaving him moaning continuously.