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“Tell me, My Little Elf. Tell me.” I know he understands what I am asking, but my words hold no meaning when I pick him up and wrap his legs around my hips.
He sobs, pressing his forehead against mine. Our eyes meet, holding for a second too long, but it’s enough for me. I hold him close, squeezing his ass right as I lean in and take his lips.
The lips of a fucking murderer have never felt so good.
His kiss extinguishes the hot blaze in my body that he spoke about earlier. My body has gotten hotter, and I only give myself another week before I’m dead.
Cailian’s hands rub over my wings, and I groan, the innocent strokes nearly make me come. I had no idea they were so sensitive.
My own palms have a mind of their own, grabbing every inch of his exposed body as if this will be the only time I’ll get to feel him.
It might be.
We can give in now and quit each other later.
I wrap my wings around him, tugging him to me, then roll us to the ground. The long grass almost hides us from how tall it is. The tips of his ears wiggle, enticing me to bend down to take the point into my mouth.
“Dove!” he shouts so loud, that the branches of the trees sway.
“You like that?” I take one ear in my hand and begin to stroke it, rubbing the tip and then pinching it.
He arches his back, rubbing his cock against mine, and that blue hue on his cheeks returns.
“I bet I could make you come like this, couldn’t I?” I grab his other ear, stroking it in unison.
He shakes his head, wetting his dry lips. “No— no, that’s— I wouldn’t— that’s impossible,” he moans loudly, snow beginning to fall upon us.
“I think you’re lying.” I tug on the tips, a whimper causing his mouth to turn into an ‘O’.
He pinches his dark blue nipples, the erotic grunts and groans becoming more frequent.
“So sensitive.” I stop stroking his ears which has his eyes snapping open.
The fucking points continue to wiggle. I’ve decided that is my favorite thing about him.
I take a claw and rip his undergarments from him. “If you are going to be the death of me, I deserve to fuck this pretty ass, do I not, Little Elf? And as long as we touch, we can’t use our powerson one another, so what are you going to do to stop me?” I tilt my chin down, getting the view of his lithe body, so fragile, so small, so soft under my large hands. “You are breathtaking,” I admit on a low breath, barely able to get my lungs to remember to work.
Lean muscle wraps his bones and a dip at his waist reminds me of the hourglass figure a woman has. I grip his hips, my claws digging into his flesh until he hisses. A trail of white hair is groomed, the pathway to his cock laid out before me as if he’s been preparing for this. I rub my fingers through the trimmed hair, the touch causing him to gasp and his stomach to tremble as he figures out a way to breathe.
Then his cock comes to view, and I have to lick my lips when I see the impressive sight. He’s long, somehow elegant and slender to match him. He is uncut, the skin a darker silver than the rest of his body. The ridge of the crown is prominent and wide against the extra flesh. I wrap my hands around his shaft, igniting a wispy groan from him.
He’s too pretty to deny.
I stroke him, pulling his skin down so I can expose the head. My mouth waters from what I see before me. I trace the ridges, realizing it is shaped like a snowflake.
“Do all elves have this?” I ask him, my thumb rubbing across the slit. “Or is it just you, My Little Elf.”
“All elves, but we all have our patterns.”
I grumble in delight, watching the pale silver tip disappear under the foreskin while I stroke him.
“Oh, gods, Dove.” His arms hit the ground beside him, fisting the grass.
I hear the blades rip from the soil as pleasure coils his body.
He’s very sensitive. Too sensitive.
A thought hits me and I stop stroking. “Cailian.” I drop my hand to my side and grab his chin, furrowing my brows anddropping my tone. “Are you a virgin? Surely not, you’re over nine hundred years old.”
