Page 112 of Double Shot

The groan that left me was raw, unholy, full of relief. My neck arched, head grinding back into the bed. Brian’s hands skimmed up my thighs and hooked my calves over his shoulders as he leaned closer, looming over me. A beautiful, beastly creature in the dark, his eyes and fangs gleaming eerily in the moonlight, his silhouette hulking and monstrous and so sexy I could already feel my rim fluttering around him with the start of an orgasm. I had a hair trigger right now. Or maybe it was just Brian. He could effortlessly wring climax after climax from my needy body.

I may have been losing my ability to think rationally, but I was still an incubus, which meant my brain was diligently filing away every little detail it could about Brian’s sexual appetite, his demeanour, the way he moved. When I was on my hands and knees for him, he’d encircle my waist with his big hands and tug me back into each manic thrust of his cock, doubling its impact, making my teeth rattle. He’d fuck me like a beast. Unrestrained, uncontrolled. Wild and hard and feral.

When I was on my back beneath him, like I was now, he was softer. Slower. Gentler with me. His hands would roam, touching me with tender reverence. He’d wrap me in his arms and crush me to his chest so I could feel his heart hammering against mine. He wouldn’t pound into me quite as hard and fast—his hips would roll, his thrusts more fluid and sensual, until my eyes rolled back in my head and I was incapable of speaking.

Like right now.

He was moving slower than he had the last few times, but I was already unbelievably sensitive, so each unhurried thrust was like a lifetime of pleasure. I could feel everything in exquisite detail. The pulsing veins on his shaft as he fed it back inside me. The hot, slick grind of his leaking cockhead as it tunnelled past my throbbing prostate. The bulge of his knot, on the verge of ballooning once more to lock him inside me when he came.

The short, suede-like fur on his chest and belly was soft, almost velvety. The longer, shaggier fur that covered the rest of him was coarse and thick, letting me grab big handfuls and hold on tight. His claws had already torn his bedding to shreds. His wolfy ears kept flicking restlessly. He was rubbing his muzzle against my face and hair and neck almost obsessively, whining in my ear until those whines turned to panting grunts as his hips picked up speed, then growls, then feral snarls when his orgasm slammed into him.

I shuddered from the feel of his cock kicking inside me, pumping out even more cum. I was so full of it that I swore my belly looked distended. There was a puddle of it and my own slick beneath me on the sheets. Everything between my legs was sticky and slippery, hot and sensitive.

Brian sagged on top of me, shifting my quivering legs to wrap them around his waist so he could plaster himself to my front. He buried his face in my neck, rubbing his muzzle all over me. One of his hands cupped the back of my head, claws tangling with the fuck knots in my curls. His other arm slipped beneath me to circle my waist, holding me as close as possible.

My lashes fluttered with pleasure. I loved this just as much as the rampant fucking, if I was being perfectly honest.

Eventually his knot deflated again, tagging my rim and making me jolt with a little whimper as he carefully pulled out. With a grunt, he twisted his upper body around to reach for the plate of food, which had somehow managed to survive the ominously shaking bed while we fucked.

He dragged it up beside us and grunted, “Eat.”

I pouted, wriggling beneath him on the bed, clutching his sides and lifting my hips to try and skim my sensitive cock against his. “I didn’t want you to pull out yet.”

“Need to eat.” He sat up on his knees and carefully threaded his fingers through mine to help me upright. I whined sulkily, trying not to list to one side as my head spun.

Okay, maybe he was right. I should eat something.

He offered me a carrot stick first, which I happily crunched on. Then it was a slice of crisp green apple with a thin wedge of sharp cheddar on top. The salty and sweet combination made me groan. Brian seemed insistent on hand feeding me, and I wasn’t complaining. Not at all. This was bliss.

I wrinkled my nose at the squares of milk chocolate, then again at the honey. I didn’t want sickly sweet things right now. Fresh fruit and raw, crunchy vegetables, salty cheese and crackers, cold cuts of meat—those were what my body was craving.

When I was done, Brian quickly ate what was left and took the plate into the kitchen, returning with a big glass of water that he made me drink all of with stern grunts and pleading eyes.

Now that my belly was full, my eyelids were drooping horribly. I fought it with everything I had, but it didn’t help when Brian gently encouraged me to lie back down. He’d grabbed a thin blanket from somewhere and draped it over us as he wrapped himself around me from behind. It was soft and warm without making me overheat, and smelled so much like him that I whimpered and pulled it tight to my nose, snuggling deeper under it without meaning to.

“Sleep,” he grunted, nuzzling my ear, ruffling my curls with his breaths as he inhaled me deeply.

My eyes had closed at some point. I tried my hardest to open them but I couldn’t. “No,” I heard myself mumbling anyway. “Want you to… Want you again.”

“After.” His voice was so beastly, so low and deep that it felt like an earthly hum in the pit of my stomach; a timbre that was literally sending me to sleep against my will.

I was in the middle of trying to protest yet again when I passed out cold.

Chapter 41

That Hussy?

Brian

As unsexy as it sounded, by the third day we’d fallen into something of a routine.

It was a necessity, given the situation, if we wanted to actually make time to eat and sleep and shower and fucking piss. Because without a routine, I was pretty sure we’d both ignore all those things for as long as physically possible in favour of fucking endlessly, until the neglect of our basic needs killed us off.

We were only dozing for an hour or two at a time before one of us would get so urgently horny that it would rip us out of sleep. I’d woken up multiple times to Klaus crawling on top of me, still half-asleep, and sinking down onto my perpetually hard cock with a tired little moan. I’d also woken up with my dick already sliding into Klaus’s ass after I’d sought him out in my sleep.

We’d wake up. Fuck. Usually fuck again as soon as my knot deflated just enough to slide in and out of him. I’d drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen to make up a plate of the foods Klaus currently found palatable. While I put it together, I’d graze like a desperate animal, shoving crackers and a protein bar and whatever I could find into my mouth as I meticulously selected the best, most nutritious things for Klaus to eat.

I’d go back to bed and hand-feed him until he regained enough of his strength and wits to sit up and do it himself. Only then, while he was still eating, would I crawl over him and lap up his cum from his chest and stomach and dick, where I’d linger for long enough, laving it in long, greedy licks from his balls to his tip, that he’d come again directly onto my tongue with a shivery little moan.