Page 84 of Changelings
Rolling up her sleeves, Imogen got to work. She set the chair back to give her room and laid old blankets along the floor to catch the shed hair and feathers. Untying his loose linen kilt—hishouse kilt,he called it—he stood naked for her while she brushed out his legs, then sat as she did his arms and chest. It wasn’t long before his loud purr filled the cottage—as did his fur. She was amazed by how much he lost but still had plenty left.
His mane took a little teasing, and she ended up cutting a few mats from behind his ears—after assuring him it wouldn’t look uneven. Imogen found a wide-toothed comb worked best for it, and after some careful grooming, he looked as fluffy and regal as ever.
His wings took more thought, and he showed her how to tell which feathers were ready to be plucked. She ended up using her fingers, carding them through his feathers to find which were loose. He sighed and moaned with relief as one after the other came away.
By the time she was finished, his coat was glossy, his wings were shiny, and his cock stood upright. Imogen had done herbest to ignore it, not wanting to get distracted, but when the final feather was plucked, she circled round to his front and dropped to her knees between his legs.
His purr cut off in surprise, and he started to say something, but then her hand wrapped around his shaft.
“Imogen—” he choked.
“I promised I’d make you feel better,” she said.
He might’ve said more, but his growling purr cut off whatever it was. Instead, his hand found its way into her hair as she bobbed her head up and down, taking what she could of him. His thighs twitched as she swirled her tongue round the spade-shaped head, and his tail thumped heavily on the ground when she teased the slit.
Imogen moaned when his claws gently scraped her scalp, and she let him feel the vibrations of her throat. A hiss of pleasure slid between his teeth as his cock shuttled between her lips. His feline nose wrinkled, and his ears flattened against his skull as she worked him.
Even though she was the one on her knees, Imogen swelled with pride. She knew from experience that she held the power here; more than just his cock in her hand, she held his heart, his happiness. That she could bring a big, beautiful man like this to his own knees, leave him shaking with want, was a heady thing.
When her fingers trailed down his shaft to tease at his knot, Balar tightened his grip in her hair, pulling her back.
“Enough teasing,nitlam. Get on my cock and ride it.”
Rising to her feet, she undid her trou just before he slid them and her underthings down her thighs. He pushed a paw greedily between her legs, questing fingers sliding through her slick cunt.
“So warm for me already. You like sucking on my cock, Imogen?”
“I like making you feel good,” she said, trying to focus on stepping out of her trou even as his hand teased her.
“I’m the luckiest male alive,” he purred, big hands framing her hips as he helped her sling a leg across his lap.
Balancing with a grip on his shoulders, Imogen let him guide her down as he held himself by the base. She moaned when she felt the hot tip tease her, his cockhead pushing unerringly up inside her.
After a moment, his hand came away, allowing her to set the pace. He filled his paws instead with her backside, squeezing and kneading the generous cheeks.
Imogen lowered herself down down down, hardly breathing as he filled her to the brim. She didn’t stop until she felt the burn of his knot at her entrance; only then did she dare take a breath.
Balar purred eagerly, hands keeping her steady as she began to rock on his lap.
“That’s it,urisá. Make us feel good.”
Arms around his neck, Imogen dropped her head to his, capturing his big mouth. She felt his pleased purr against her lips, and when his tongue slid inside her mouth, she tried to roll her hips to keep time.
They’d tried this position before, and she enjoyed it immensely because she got to kiss him the whole time. With their difference in height, that wasn’t always the case, and so she took full advantage. He teased her tongue with his, goading her into a chase and capture; all the while, his hands slid up and down her thighs and backside, the trail of his claws an added sensation that sent her spiraling higher quicker.
It didn’t take long for Imogen to feel her body tightening up, ready for release. A needy little sound escaped her, and Balar rumbled in agreement. Hands spanning her waist and hips, he took hold of her and began to move her up and down.
All she could do was hold on, fingers buried in his mane, as he used her. His hips thrust up to meet every downstroke, a brutal rhythm that saw them both flying off the edge.
With her name on his lips, he thrust home, his knot popping inside. Imogen gasped and shuddered, the feeling of fullness overwhelming her in the best way. He filled her up, spend leaking between them as he pumped and ground.
The world reduced to golden bursts, and all Imogen could see, feel, and hear was him. Her heart somehow felt fuller than her clenching cunt; Balar did that. Every day, he filled her up with happiness. And often his cock, but always happiness, love, and affection.
Imogen didn’t know how she’d ever thought herself incapable or unworthy. Every day, he showed her in his actions how much he valued and enjoyed and loved her.
She wouldn’t trade him for anything—even an unmarked face.
Caught together in the afterglow, they sat shaking in each other’s arms. His knot remained engorged inside her, and she knew by now it’d be a while yet before they could comfortably part.
