Page 53 of Double Shot

He squeezed my knot, making me let out a whimpering gasp, and smiled up at me as he slowly rubbed the tip of my cock over his lower lip. “Are you going to give me lots of it, B. Were?”

“Br-Brian,” I wheezed, unable to stop my hips from twitching and bumping my cock against his cheek.

“Brian,” he repeated in a purr, pressing a kiss that was somehow both sweet and utterly filthy to my weeping tip. “I’m Klaus, by the way.”

Klaus. My body almost sagged in relief at finally finding out his name, and it was as if the knowledge unlocked my orgasm. I tensed up and started to shake, broken groans and snarls escaping me with every frantic breath as Klaus moaned and plunged his mouth back down over my dick.

“C-cuh-coming. I’m c-coming—” I managed to get out before I cut myself off with a ragged shout, almost a roar. My knot throbbed aggressively under the ring of his fingers, and the pressure release from each endless spurt of cum into the back of his throat was making me light-headed.

It didn’t stop, but he kept swallowing, at first with my cockhead lodged in his throat, then he pulled back with a hoarse moan to catch the rest on his tongue. After the heat of his mouth, the cool air on the wet base of my shaft was unbearably erotic, making me shudder even harder.

Just as my orgasm began to ease, he placed both hands flat on my thighs, took a deep breath, and slid his mouth all the way back down until my sensitive, weakly pulsing cock plugged his throat again. His fingers tightened on my legs, a shiver ran down his spine, and he swallowed around my length, but this time it felt different.

“Oh fuck. F-fuck, fuck—” I began to babble, because it was happening again. That incubus thing. The thing I’d felt when we fucked in the Cratos locker room.

There was a tug, like something in his body was drawing something more out of my mine, and everything tightened up again. A hoarse, helpless and trembling moan tore from me as another flowing stream of cum was pulled from my cock.

I realised I was shaking uncontrollably and had hunched over, now cradling his head in my arms as I whimpered and snuffled at his hair. I almost passed out. Orgasms in werewolf form were always long, and that extra release at the end was almost too much. Too much fucking pleasure for a mere mortal to withstand.

I couldn’t stop trembling as that mind-numbing last rush of release finally ended and I was able to slowly, tentatively sit up. It felt like if I moved too fast, I’d just black out. I released his head when he started to shift back, sliding my cock free from his mouth. He sucked in a trembling breath and reached up to wipe the spit off his chin.

“You really did give me so much,” he rasped, his flushed and swollen mouth stretching into a wide, almost delirious smile. “That was amazing.”

What? He was saying that? It felt like I’d just died, briefly become a god of some kind and discovered all the secrets of the universe before being shoved back into a mortal body, and he was saying it had been amazing?

I literally felt reborn. From a blowjob. And I needed to tell him. He needed to be told how amazing he was.

“I… Yeah,” I croaked, then promptly wanted to punch myself in the face.

His smile turned a little shy, and he sat back on his heels between my legs and soothingly ran his palms up and down my quaking thighs, gazing up at me with those big eyes. “Was it okay for you?”

How the fuck could he be asking me that? I was barely aware of my surroundings, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to stand right now, I’d just almost sobbed from coming so hard, and he somehow wasn’t sure if I’d enjoyed it?

“Yeah.” Again, I wanted to fucking slap myself for my brief, shitty answer. I had to do better. He deserved better. Why the fuck did it suddenly feel like my tongue was literally tied into a damn knot? “I… It… It was…”

“Hello?”

We both stiffened when we heard the faint voice coming from somewhere outside the room.

“Helloooo?” the same voice sing-songed, followed by, “Harry, I don’t think anyone’s here.”

“Well there has to be someone here,” someone else—Harry, presumably—replied in a testy, grouchy tone. “The motel is open, and we have a reservation. They can’t expect us to just reach behind the desk and take a key, can they?”

“Maybe they’re just on a bathroom break,” the feminine voice replied diplomatically.

“Or maybe the place is run by fae,” Harry grumbled back. “They’re all so damn flighty. Flakes, the lot of them. Can’t keep their damn heads out of the clouds.”

“Harold,” the woman said, “you can’t say things like that in public.”

“We’re not in public, Linda!” Harold exclaimed. “We’re the only ones here! There’s no damn motel employee here to overhear me! They’ve probably… I don’t know, flitted off to make mushroom tea and pick daisies!”

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Harold.” Linda sounded tearful now. “You know my college boyfriend was a fae!”

“Oh yes, I know, Linda,” Harold shot back. “In thirty years of marriage, you’ve never once let me forget about Jared with his beautiful blue hair and dreamy green eyes and washboard abs. I’m so sorry that I am genetically predisposed to weak stomach muscles. It’s a medical condition!”

“At least Jared took an interest in my poetry,” Linda cried.

“Oh shit,” Klaus whispered, scrambling to his feet. “I need to go.”