Page 137 of Beau and the Beast

Beau dropped his eyes and grinned.

“It’s just that I have toys there.Biggerthings that would make all of this easier.”

How could someone talking about his latent size kink look so bashful and innocent, Wolfram wondered.

“But I’ll be fine,” Beau said after a moment, sensing maybe that Wolfram was going to protest. “We’ll just take it slow.”

“Will you let me lead?” Wolfram asked seriously.

Beau nodded and Wolfram eased him back onto the bed.

“Undo your buttons,” Wolfram said.

Beau’s hands were swift, unbuttoning his shirt and then his pants. Wolfram stopped him, though, when he moved to undress. Wolfram wanted to do it—to take care of him and set the pace to slow and steady.

He parted the sides of Beau’s shirt and took a deep breath of him, smelling that sweetness that had grown so familiar over the passing weeks. If Wolfram could never go outside again, this would be enough, the scents of Beau and the way they reminded Wolfram of a perfect spring day. Affection welled in him absurdly, swelled and enhanced in a strange way by his instincts taking over, kicking in, insisting that Beau was his and Beau was all that he’d ever need out of this life.

Wolfram drew lazy patterns with his tongue, first across Beau’s collarbones and then down, over his nipples, and finally against the edges of his scars. Beau shifted out of the shirt and discarded it on the floor and Wolfram took the opportunity to shrug out of his vest before continuing. The white expanse of Beau’s skin made Wolfram want him even more and he hooked his fingertips into Beau’s pants, dragging them down and then off along with his underwear. Beau moaned as he bounced free, already hard for Wolfram, his body demanding more.

Finally, he was going to give Beau what he wanted.

* * *

With Wolfram’s curse, his expressions normally looked feline—but in that moment, Beau thought he looked like a wolf, surveying his prey before devouring it.

He straddled Beau, the bed sinking down from his weight, and kissed him, letting their bodies brush together. Beau wondered if he would ever get over the thrill he felt when Wolfram was in the air above him, making him feel small and safe.

He held Beau by the hip as he ground down, his massive hardness trapped between them and sending another shudder through Beau.

“Turn over,” he said, his voice gravelly and deeper than usual.

Beau obeyed immediately, flipping to his belly as Wolfram sat back. He started to hitch up to his knees but Wolfram pressed him down firmly, one hand on his lower back.

“Just relax.”

Beau drew a deep breath and waited for whatever came next. He felt Wolfram’s weight shift behind him on the bed followed by the warmth of Wolfram’s body as he leaned to lavish attention on Beau’s back.

Wolfram nuzzled down his spine, following the drag of his fingertips with the brush of his face, with kisses, with lapping strokes of his broad tongue. Beau shuddered as Wolfram dipped lower, kissing the dimples of his back, dragging a stripe with his tongue down the base of his spine and then, finally, lower. Two big hands kneaded his cheeks before spreading him and Beau whimpered at the sensation of being exposed, of being completely vulnerable.

Wolfram’s breath was hot against him, replaced after a moment by soft lips against his entrance. It was all Beau could do not to press back, wanting contact, wanting more. Wolfram painted a broad brushstroke with his tongue, starting at the base of Beau’s balls and moving up, sliding over him and stopping only when he reached the base of Beau’s spine. He shuddered pleasantly at the contact, his cock throbbing hard between his belly and the sheets.

Wolfram moved again, drawing the same pattern, and then again, faster.

Why, in all of his fantasies, had Beau never considered the rimming potential of that tongue? It was thick and broad and Wolfram put it to good use, drawing circles around his hole, teasing him until the muscles in Beau’s thighs were trembling and weak. It was a perfect torture, the hot slickness of it, the precision control that Wolfram used as he lapped against Beau’s entrance, again and again.

Wolfram built a rhythm, pressing firmly against him but neverin, and Beau’s body responded as if it had been programmed specifically for this. He was relaxed, boneless and pliant, and more than anything he wanted to be filled. The want was like a physical lack and he needed the pressure, felt himself going desperate for it.

“Please, Wolf,” he whispered, not even sure of what he was asking for—just knowing that he had to have more or his mind would come apart at the seams. He ground his hips, vying for more contact, but Wolfram tightened his grip on Beau’s hips, holding him still.

He wasn’t entirely cruel, though. With firm thumbs, Wolfram spread him wider and Beau felt the well-muscled tongue go more rigid as Wolfram lapped against his hole. Then, finally, slowly, Wolfram pressed into him, working the hard tip of muscle just past his rim.

Beau’s cock was on fire, and instead of feeling satisfied, this was somehow worse than the teasing. He neededmore, the feeling collapsing in on itself in some wrecked biological loop in Beau’s brain. Hehadto be filled—needed Wolfram deeper.

Wolfram’s movements were maddeningly slow, dipping in and then sliding out, circling and licking before pressing in again, each time a little deeper but never deep enough.

Beau begged in sounds that he knew weren’t words, letting out soft moans with every breath, with every teasing movement of Wolfram’s tongue. He struggled against Wolfram’s grip, his body crying out for friction.

Wolfram hummed and pressed in again, going deeper—and for the first time, Beau felt the familiar pressure of a stretch. He’d never had a tongue so deep inside of him and he gasped at the unexpected pleasure of it, the firm, hot muscle unlike anything he’d ever felt.

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