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“But lampyrs don’t have a fixed human form,” Holt continued, long fingers trailing along the inner seam of my jeans. “They can make themselves look like whoever they want, or just imagine the features they want to take and create a whole new person.”
I nodded, trying to control my breathing. As Holt sat back, I did the same, then had to suppress a squeak when his hand slid smoothly up my thigh to cover the outline of my pulsing cock.
Chapter Fourteen
Dad Jeans
My hands clenched into fists around the couch cushions. I was painfully aware of Larkin right behind us, but I couldn’t do anything but sit there as Holt squeezed my hard dick and gave it a slow rub, creating hot friction in my pants.
“Want me to tell you about the wrestlers?” he asked. His voice was lower and throatier now. There was an obvious erection straining at the front of his pants, and I wondered if I could get away with slithering onto the floor and sucking him off without Larkin realising.
Wasn’t sure I wanted a whole arena full of people witnessing my clumsy attempts at a blowjob after four long years of zero action, though. I was convinced the dicksucking muscles in my mouth had at least weakened. I’d need lots of practise to get back up to my former skill level—which had been pretty good, if I did say so myself. Maybe Holt wouldn’t mind me re-strengthening my jaw muscles around his dick.
Suddenly realising he’d asked me a question, I shakily said, “S-sure.”
“Well, there’s Corey, who you’ve met. He’s an orc.” Holt found the head of my cock through my jeans and rubbed his thumb back and forth, directly over the tiny slit. My thighs spasmed as I sucked in a sharp breath. “He was originally going to be taking on Frank and Beans tonight, but I changed it up because you were coming. Frank and Beans are a double act, and they’re… honestly, I have no fucking idea what they are.”
“They look like if you split a face down the middle and gave each half arms and legs,” Larkin piped up, seemingly unaware of what Holt was currently doing to my genitals. “Freaky as fuck, dude. But that’s not even the weirdest part. Their signature move is that they take their dicks out, and they’re, like, mad long, and there are these things at the end—”
“Thank you, Larkin,” Holt interrupted dryly, even though I kind of wanted to hear about the weird long dicks. “There’s also Vince. He’s the Rolling Rimmer. He’s a ghoul, so he has a really long tongue. And he roller-skates.”
“Oh hell yeah, dude, I want that tongue all up in my business,” Larkin helpfully commented.
“There’s Dullahan Dan.” Holt started rubbing my cock through my pants again, a little faster this time. “He’s a headless horseman. His wrestling persona is a cowboy.”
“Super hot accent,” Larkin interjected before I could start short-circuiting over the thought of an actual headless horseman. “And oh my god, can you imagine? Riding his dick and getting sucked off by him at the same time. While he’s still got the cowboy get-up on. Seriously, I jerk off to that fantasy like, twice a week minimum.”
Okay, so I was getting lots of useful information here. Mainly that Larkin wanted to fuck every single wrestler in the building. I was trying to concentrate and take in everything Holt was telling me—and Larkin, to be honest, because the details he was adding were pretty interesting—but it was hard when Holt was still slowly massaging my straining dick through my jeans. It throbbed under his palm, a tiny wet patch starting to seep through the fabric at the tip.
“There’s Kenneth. His wrestling persona is The Optometrist. He’s a cyclops.”
“An… an actual cyclops?” I asked tightly, still gripping the couch cushions as Holt rubbed my dick through my pants.
“He wears a white lab coat and there’s a big eyeball painted on the back of his tiny briefs,” Larkin said, insisting on being a part of this conversation while his boss slowly stroked me off. “Directly over his butthole. I’m not totally sold on the face—the one big eye kind of creeps me out—but he has a bangin’ bod, so I still would.”
“G-good to know,” I gulped as my balls drew tighter to my body. Holt’s free hand was clutching his own thigh in a death grip, until he slid it up to press the heel of his palm into the erection straining under his pants.
He was breathing faster now, trying to keep his arm movements subtle as he curled his fingers around my cock through my jeans and jerked it as best he could. Larkin still seemed to have no idea what he was doing, because he piped up again when Holt didn’t continue listing the wrestlers.
“B. Were is a werewolf, and fuck, dude, he has these eyes that are like… Not to sound like a total dink, but they’re hella fucking dreamy, bro.” Larkin sighed. “Like, I just want him to gaze down at me all lovingly and shit while he rearranges my guts, you know?”
“Jesus Christ, Larkin,” Holt gritted out, but I didn’t think the tension in his voice had much to do with Larkin’s horny commentary. He was clutching his cock through his pants now, eyes fixed unseeingly ahead to keep up the pretence that we were actually watching the wrestling taking place down below.
Nunhallowed Pound and Bedrock Biff Clawstin’s match had finished—I had no idea who’d won—and I was only vaguely aware of the commentator urging people back to their seats for the next fight. My pulse was pounding in my ears as my lower back tightened. Oh shit.
Oh fuck.
I was going to come. In front of an entire arena of monsters.
And Larkin.
“Nnngh.” My hand scrabbled over the couch, landing on Holt’s thigh and squeezing painfully tight. He let out a tiny moan that he quickly smothered with a cough.
“Aaaand making her way to the ring, weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds,” the commentator announced over the mic. “She will not be guiding her opponents to Valhalla after defeating them, folks. It’s… Val… Kyl-Mooore!”
Flashing lights and wailing electric guitars filled the arena, but my eyes were unfocused as I stared in the direction of the tall, feminine figure who sauntered out of the smoke and struck an aggressive pose while the crowd screamed.
My cock was agonisingly stiff under Holt’s palm. My thighs were quaking, hips twitching with the urge to thrust harder against his hand. In a rush, the pressure broke. My balls tightened. My dick pulsed, trying to flex under the tight fabric, and then I was shaking as I came so hard in my pants that my vision went spotty.
