Page 80 of The Fake Divination Offense
His eyes fly to mine, like that might somehow still be true, and his brows pulse in an unspoken plea to prove that he’s not going anywhere. That I’m keeping him.
“How far down does this go?” I ask, voice gravelly.
Eyes on mine, he undoes his pants, pushes the rest of his clothes to the floor, and kicks them away.
Maybe there really is an earthquake pummeling the city. Or maybe I’m the center of it, insufferable vibrations shooting out of me, more potent than the earth shifting.
The body chain trickles over his belly button, following the line of hair to his groin, his hard cock sticking straight out toward me. The chain divides around it to encircle each thigh.
What parts of me might have still been clinging to poise are demolished. He’s naked for me, his rose-gold skin gleaming with the growing stickiness of the shower, but it’s that damn body chain that highlights every perfect dip and contour of his muscles, makes him look like a Grecian statue come to life.
The sight is ravaging.
Bel braces his hands on the vanity behind him, cheeks flushed, knuckles whitening, his tail coiled around his calf. His muscles strain the longer I look, let myself gorge on him.
“O-orok,” he stammers.
I peel off my shirt, push my sleep pants down, and it’s his turn to stare. He’s seen most of me already, but the flaring of his eyes and the way his knuckles turn even whiter on the vanity send a shudder like champagne bubbles from my neck to where my dick hangs hard against my thigh.
He’s soaking up the reverberations of this earthquake I’m emitting as I close in on him, letting my hand follow one of the chains around his thigh, to his ass, to where his tail connects out of his lower back.
A hiss slips through his lips, answering me before I need to ask, but I do anyway.
“Can you feel me?” I whisper.
He nods. Nods as I trail my fingers down his tail, gently prying it away from his leg. Nods and shivers and pinches his eyes shut in a restrictive collapse like he’s trying so, so hard to hold himself back.
“Uh-uh.” I tap his chin. “Eyes open, sweetheart. You were doing so well for me, don’t stop now.”
He obeys instantly and I tighten my grip around his tail. Another hiss, this one coming with a squirm and an arching of his back.
“Orok,” he whines.
I let my fingers lazily meander down to the arrowed tip and he’s breathing hard, eyes glazed.
“That sensitive?” I ask.
Half his mouth crooks in a self-deprecating smile. “Not really. No. I—you’re touching me.”
I smile. “So you’d react as strongly if I touched you… here?”
My fingers move to his stomach. To the valley between his abs as his belly contracts.
Bel moans. “Yeah. Yes.”
“Hm. And here?”
His jaw. Where his pink curls twist in too-tempting circles, and I brush one aside to touch the hollow below his ear.
The feather of his exhale across my chest points out how closewe’re standing now. Close enough that all it takes is shifting my hips, and the head of his cock brushes my thigh.
He gasps, body arching again. I’ve barely touched him.
“Please,” he whispers, hands still on the vanity, still displaying himself for me,mine. “Please, Orok.”
“What do you want?” I twist his curl around my finger and tug, earning a low mewl.
“I want—gods—I want what I said out there. Please, please—”
