His mouth closes on my slit and I cry out. His lips are surprisingly soft, full and hot as they part my folds and settle against my clit. He kisses me there the same way he kisses my mouth, slow and deep, learning the shape of me with his tongue tracing delicate patterns that make my hips buck against his face. He groans at my response, the vibration humming through my center, and one of his hands tightens on my thigh to hold me steady.
His tongue is longer than a human man’s, pointed at the tip. He laps at me in broad strokes first, tasting me from entrance to clit, and the sound he makes is one of pure male satisfaction. Then he narrows the point of his tongue and flicks it against my clit in a rhythm that makes my vision blur. I fist my hands in his wet hair and he growls his approval.
“You taste like mine,” he murmurs against my flesh, and then his tongue spears inside me.
I sob. My back arches as he works me with that clever tongue, thrusting deep and curling, finding places inside me I didn’t know existed. Then his free hand slides up my inner thigh and two fingers press at my entrance, slick with water and my own arousal, and he eases them inside alongside his tongue.
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 bothof 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.
