Page 44 of Hell's Secret Omega

Mezor says nothing, only dives in. His claws dig into Cyrus’s ass in a sharp counterpoint while his tongue slithers deviously over Cyrus’s tense opening. Again and again, until Cyrus’s legs are water and he can’t stop crying out, the earthy air of the grotto and Mezor’s hot, stormy scent filling his lungs with every gasp. Mezor tilts his hips up and then Cyrus is beingfilled, Mezor’s tongue sliding inside like he’s been waiting for it. He howls. The tongue strokes his insides, burning him up.

Time blurs. Cyrus feels like he reaches the edge over and over, until he can only squirm limply under the onslaught. Then Mezor flips him onto his back in the moss and descends on Cyrus, his markings glowing like stars.

Cyrus barely has a heartbeat to catch his breath before Mezor’s lips capture his and his tongue slides inside. Clarity returns in a rush. His heart flips. He tastes his own slick, the salty musk of Mezor’s mouth—but more than that, he tastes longing. Hunger.

The bond shivers like a wire pulled tight. Cyrus arches into him.

“Please,” he begs, breaking away.

“Taste your essence on my tongue,” Mezor snarls, his eyes like fire. “Your slick drives me wild. There’s nothing like it in all the realms.”

He kisses Cyrus again, leaving him no room to negotiate. Cyrus moans around the tongue thick in his mouth. Mezor makes a noise like he’s pained. He rips himself away and lifts Cyrus’s hips into the air, leaving Cyrus to wail openly as Mezor lashes his hole again with his hot, wet, insatiable tool.

He shakes in Mezor’s hands, his whole lower half an inferno. Is he coming?Canhe come? “Please, please,” he cries, fumbling at Mezor. His hand lands on a horn and he grips it tight as Mezor devours him mercilessly.

The ensuing growl vibrates through his cock, into his hole and all the way up his clenching passage to his womb, and Cyrus shouts as his whole body seizes. His hole squeezes and flutters around Mezor’s tongue. Come bursts across his chest and face as he spasms through his peak. Mezor’s roar fills him to the brim with pure fire. He feels like he’s coming endlessly, riding higher and higher with every twitch of Mezor’s tongue inside him.

The waves gentle. He pants, trembling, every single muscle limp with release.

Faintly, he registers being laid down with care.

Mezor looms above him, his eyes half-lidded. He wipes the come off Cyrus’s face with his thumb and licks it clean. “Such a good vergis.”

To Cyrus’s embarrassment, he finds a giddy smile drifting across his lips.

Mezor licks along his collar, then up his tender scent gland. Then he’s taking control of Cyrus’s mouth again, only this time he’s tasting slick and seed—sweet with a hint of bitterness. He finds the strength to dig his claws into Mezor’s tangle of hair.

“You didn’t come.”

“I needed to taste you.” Mezor’s self-satisfied smirk gleams in the glow of the grotto. But a thread of honesty darkens his gaze, and Cyrus’s traitorous heart thumps.

He shifts experimentally. His hole is tender and sensitive—but he could take Mezor’s cock. He wriggles out of Mezor’s arms, intending to present, but Mezor shakes his head.

“Your mouth. I want to taste myself on your tongue afterward.”

Cyrus nods mutely.

Mezor sits back, allowing Cyrus to sit between his thighs. Cyrus opens his buttons takes a deep breath of the powerful musk that rises as Mezor’s cock springs free. Mezor pulls his pants off and kicks them away, then leans back on his hands. Hiscock stands straight up, a rich, dark red, gleaming with wetness at the tip. The base already thickens with his proto-knot. Cyrus is unreasonably proud of its state.I did that. I’m the reason he’s worked up.

He runs his fists up and down Mezor’s shaft to spread his slick pre-seed. Mezor holds himself completely still, except for his cock, which kicks eagerly in Cyrus’s palm.

He fists his prize with both hands, smoothing the thick, sensitive ridges and working his fingers over the head over and over. All the while Mezor watches him intensely, the soft light of the grotto giving him a strange air. Cyrus wants to hide from his gaze—he wants to hold himself open and beg to be consumed.He’s a god. An ancient being. Yet he doesthisunder my touch…

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Mezor says suddenly, the words coming out strangled. “Speak to me as a vergis.”

“I’d never been touched before you took my heat,” Cyrus blurts. “Now I want it all the time. Your cock ruined me for anything else.”

Mezor groans, his gaze piercing. “You deserve it.”

He swallows the salty explosion of Mezor’s pre-seed, heart thundering. “I thought about being touched by you every time I breathed your scent.”

A tremor runs through Mezor’s thigh under his palm. The same scent is suddenly so thick it’s stifling.

“Use your mouth now,” Mezor rasps.

The command makes him tremble with excitement. He barely gets his lips around the ruddy tip before Mezor is groaning and pulsing in his hand. Bouts of seed erupt into his mouth. Mezor’s grip is suddenly firm on his head, holding him in place so all he can do is accept the hot gift spilling down his throat. Not that he wants to move. He gladly swallows, coaxing more seed out with the flat of his tongue, milking Mezor’s cock dry. Mezor’s breath stutters. He squeezes his fist in Cyrus’s hair.Cyrus’s jaw aches as his mouth fills with bursts of tart, heady come, sending him drifting into a warm, floaty place.

When Mezor releases him he crawls up and presents his mouth for a taste, and Mezor licks into him with a pleased noise.

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