Page 84 of The Fake Divination Offense
I grab his now half-hard cock, hand still slick with excess lube,and stroke in time with my gentle thrusts. He fills in my hand while sexy little mewls get mangled in his throat. I kiss that throat, laving my tongue on his salty skin, rolling my hips in a throbbing rhythm he picks up instantly, his body writhing along with it.
“Good?” I ask, propping back so I can see his face.
“S’good,” he slurs, fighting to open his eyes, to look up at me. “I—I can f-feel you. Everywhere. Oh, gods, you’re deep. I’m so full, so—more.”
He’s a vice. A hot, perfect vice clamping on my dick, and that beastly part of me knows,knowshe was made for this, for me, and I was made for him. It’s over the top but everything about this morning has been that way, and I’m sotiredof fighting what I want.
What I want is this, exactly this, him and us in this perfect held breath of a moment. Details alchemize from mundane into anchors—the satin drag of the sheets under us. The hues of pink and gold in his hair. The smell of soap and sweat on his skin. The moan that shoots out of his throat.
He consumes me in a way that silences the world. In that silence, I’m pushed out of myself, and I realize I’m not fighting so hard to be healthy, to move on,fighting. That’s all I ever am,fighting, but right now, with him, I’mhere.
It’s grounding and freeing. A foundation and a release.
The backs of my eyes burn before I can consciously acknowledge the rush of emotion swarming me. Fuck, I’m not going to cry during sex—
Pain flares, ripping me out of the onslaught, Bel’s nails dragging down my back. His calves hook around my hips and he tries to get leverage, sharp ankles digging into my ass, but his legs are spread too wide to pull. He squirms with the effort and my lip curls up, eyes still damp.
“You’ll take what I give you,” I pant, thrusts staying smooth, careful. “You’ll take what I think you can handle.”
I won’t hurt him. But also, I want to savor him. Want to savorthis. I want each slow plunge, each choked gasp. I want the slick,warm hardness of his cock in my palm, how I can completely surround his dick with my hand so he can’t escape sensation on it.
He shudders, tremors that ripple across his gleaming skin, and between one misfired whine and the next, he’s coming. It takes him by surprise as much as it does me, his eyes bursting wide in almost panicked pleasure. His neck arches, every part of him rippling and rolling as he comes in my hand, wet release spilling between my fingers.
The moment his hips flinch, oversensitive, I pull out of him, rip the condom off, and use his cum to jack myself over his stomach. His eyelids flutter, mouth agape, his belly rounding out and concaving with his winding-down breaths.
My orgasm smashes into me, pyrotechnics firing off gold and pink, shivery sparks sizzling every nerve. A roaring shout bruises my throat as my cum pools on him, fills his navel, covers some of the body chain, and in that immediate moment post-orgasm, I’m all primal, all beast—I dip my fingers in my cum and spread it across his chest, marking him.
Bel trembles, whimpering; he has been, I think: small, exhausted whimpers that have me gathering him in my arms, mess be damned, and rolling us onto our sides. He scrambles on to me, burrowing as close as he can get. Does he know he’s whimpering, does he know he’s shaking?
“Empty,” he moans. “It hurts.”
I tug the comforter over us and rub a hand down his body, between his cheeks, softly prodding his swollen rim. His whimpers splinter apart but he hooks one leg over my hip, giving me access, and I dip two fingers back inside him.
He sighs, his face tucked under my chin, parted lips letting his breath bathe the underside of my jaw.
The tremors fade.
We only have a few hours before the buses are due to take us back to Philly. I need to get him food; he has to be starving. We need another shower. I need to get started on all the other tasks I have waiting for me now to keep him safe.
But even with the intensity of being inside him passed, that overwhelming feeling of being free hasn’t.
I’ve been a worshipper of Urzoth my entire life. Sacrificed hours in church, devoted my younger self to a barrage of commandments. And all of it,all of it, was in pursuit of this feeling.
Not strength.
Peace.
I hold Bel, safe and alive andmine, and let touching him be the catechism that overwrites all the others.
Chapter Eleven
Morning News: “Welcome toOne Shot, your number-one source for the latest in pro rawball news. I’m your host, Diamanda Blacktalon. My cohost, Vaknox of the Lizard People of Tesh, is not yet back from his sojourn—during his molting process, he was chosen by the lizard god Chaxloakka to seek the eternal flame of the Lizard People. We wish Vaknox all the best on his divine quest. Joining me as temporary cohost is Begmi, the pixie prince from the Forest of Neetand in the Fae Plane. Begmi, you—oh. Where’d he go? He’s—ohthat’shim? That speck of dust? That’s his pixie form? Oh, I’m so sorry, Prince Begmi.”
*the softest tinkling sound ever*
“Wow, that’s so kind of you to say. Ididrecently have my tusks polished, thank you. Now, we’ve had quite the active twenty-four hours in the rawball world! But what I want to focus on is—you guessed it—Beauty and the Beast! Our favorite It couple, Orok and Alexo, strutted their stuff at the gala for Thrive Children, andwow, did they steam up some cameras! I—”
*the softest tinkling sound ever*
