Page 25 of Whisper Woods

Dropping my head down, I give into the temptation that has been taunting me since I first saw him on the dance floor, licking along the lines of his stomach and the creases of his muscles. His fingers release their clenching of the quilt cover to instead grip my skull, attempting to tug me lower to his straining cock. I fight against the pull, instead taking my time to lick, nibble, and kiss and worship the skin splayed before me.

“Is it safe? To allow me anything I wish? What if I wanted to eat you up, dear Seff?” My words are peppered along his feverish skin.

“I don’t care. Ugh. Just—” he grunts in frustration. “Please.” The sound is almost a sob, my hand wrapping around his impossibly thick cock rattling his senses. “Naked. More.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” I press a teasing kiss to his lips, slick and puffy and tempting. He grumbles and groans when I climb off the bed, his hands skimming over his own skin, lingering to stroke his dick where it leaks against him.

I strip quickly, throwing my clothes to the side and taking a moment to turn on a lamp before returning to kneel over him on the bed. My dick is leaking, proud and painfully hard, jerking as it brushes against his skin. Is that my moan or his echoing through the room as I lean over him to reach the bottle of oil on the bedside table? I drop the precious vial on the bed in easy reach and sit back on his thighs.

Seff is working his pre-cum slicked cock with one fist, slowly pleasuring himself under me. With a sharp tap, I slap his hand.

“Enough of that. You need to learn some patience. Hands on the headboard.” I can see the furrow of his brow in the shadows as he reluctantly releases his cock to grip the bed. It’s a risk, the wood, if it even is wood, doesn’t seem very strong, and judging by the straining tendons in his muscular arms, Seff doesn’t have much restraint left.

I give my dick a long stroke, admiring the view of him stretched out in front of me. My stomach clenches, pulsing hot lust throbs through me.

“Do not let go,” I warn, shimmying back slightly to give myself room. His cock jumps with eager anticipation at the feel of my hot breath. My lips ghost over his length to the leaking tip. “Do not let go until I tell you.”

His yelp reverberates around the room as I take him deep into my mouth. My lips stretched wide, I rise and fall, working him farther into my mouth until my lips are pressed against the swell of his knot. I swallow then, revelling in the deep, choking groan.

I cup his balls while I suck, rolling the heavy sac in my hand. He feels perfect, the taste of him, the weight of him against my tongue, the scent of him, invades every sense until he is part of me, entwined in all my senses.

His pleasure is so intense, it is almost as if I can feel it myself. The hot warmth of my own mouth against my cock, in stark contrast to the tickle of his leg hair dragging against my balls as I rock in rhythm to my mouth.

When I feel his balls draw tight, and his knot swell, I pull off and then go back to suck at the slick flared head just once more.

“What?! No!” he sobs, rubbing his head against the pillows. But he doesn’t release his hands. I reach out blindly for the vial, unable to stop groping at his thighs, his hips.

“Patience, my dear Seff.” With almost painful reluctance, I uncap the vial and pour the liquid onto my fingers. “Gods, you are so beautiful. So perfect.” Even desperate to come, as he is, he still preens under my praise. I can feel the satisfaction rolling off him.

Under his intense gaze I reach behind myself, tracing along my crease to circle at my hole. His eyes flare wide with his realisation.

“Let me,” his voice is rough from his pleading, but all I can do is shake my head, my breath shuddering out of me as I penetrate myself.

Resting one hand on his waist for balance, I work myself open, stretching myself to take his considerable dick. Seff’s hooded, hungry eyes never leave me. He licks his lips, panting slightly. I can feel the beat of his heart, his unsteady breath, the chaotic adrenaline pulsing through his aura.

One finger becomes two, then three.

It’s enough, I decide, eager to feel the burn. It’s not often I choose this butmore than anything, I want to feel him inside me.

Removing my fingers, I slick my hand with more of the oil, a special kind I favour from home, coating Seff’s straining cock.

“You ready?” His nod is so enthusiastic his whole magnificent body shakes with the effort. I move to sit, poised over his cock, lining myself up perfectly. Our breath is harsh, loud in the room. And I make us wait in it, even while my body vibrates with the tension of holding back. I know it will all be worth it in the end, when we finally come.

Teasing us both, I brush his cock over my hole. Once, twice. On the third pass there is a crack, loud and unforgiving. The headboard. Unrestrained pleasure flows through me, the volume of the moment, as his cock pierces me, breaching my entrance.

The burn is divine, the stretch. Slowly I sink down, until pleasure throbs through me, making me heavy and light all at once. My head falls back, a Tathissian endearment, our word for the most beloved of us, falling helplessly from me in a whisper, “My kushinavya.”

My hips roll on instinct. Our movements roll together as if we are dancing together, our rhythm, the beat of our spirit perfectly in sync.

And still, he never removes his hands. Even when the cracks become splintering tears, even when I lean back, displaying myself like a feast in front of him, one hand supporting my body, the other toying with my nipples, stroking my cock where it leaks all over him.

Not when he whispers desperate nonsense words, licking his lips hungrily. I can feel his hunger.

And he doesn’t let go.

Even when I release myself, to gain better balance, more traction to move faster, his cock filling me like bliss, Seff’s cock and knot swelling, limiting my movements, locking me in place. It feels incredible, powerful.

Too much.

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