Kate Hart

And in his hand…Your toothbrush. Foamy.Chewed.

You clapped a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god. What… what are you doing?”

He turned to you with the most adorably smug grin. “Cleaning my teeth,” he said, chest puffed out, a dollop of foam clinging to his bottom lip. He licked it and held up the mangled brush. “I used the little stick. It’s… chewy.” He chomped down experimentally. Plastic splintered. “Like brittle coral!”

Your eyes darted to the sink. The toothpaste tube lay limp, squeezed bone-dry. Empty. You’d bought it yesterday.

“Babe,” you breathed, “did you… eat it? All of it?”

“Yes! Tasted like mint fish.”

“You’re not supposed to eat the whole toothpaste,” you said, a laugh sneaking out as you stepped toward him. “And that’s a toothbrush. For scrubbing your teeth, not chewing it like it’s sea kelp.”

“It says brush,” he argued, pointing at the embossed word on the handle. “But it feels like a snack.” He blinked. “So… no eating?”

“No eating! Are you okay? That much fluoride could—”

“I feel excellent!” He grinned. “Minty! Fresh! Like I swallowed a cold current!”

You tried. You really tried to keep it together. But then he looked down at the bar of soap on the edge of the sink and reached for it like it was dessert. Lilac-scented. Your favorite. Oh no...

“This,” he breathed. “This smells delicious.” He brought it to his lips. “Can I—?”

“No!” You lunged, grabbing his wrist just as his tongue darted out. “You can’t eat soap, babe!”

“But it smells like your skin!” He poked your collarbone. “When I kiss you here… it’s this scent.” He blinked again, all big, sea-glass green eyes and innocent confusion. “If your skin tastes good, why can’t I eat what smells like it?”

“Babe,” you said as calmly as possible, prying the soap from his grip, “you’re not supposed to eat the stuff that smells good in here. It’s for cleaning. Outside. Of. Your. Body.”

He scowled, crossing his arms. The movement made his tattoos ripple. “But most of it smells like food. Like… sea-salt pie.”

“Sea-salt pie isn’t a thing.”

He grinned, full and charming. “It should be, my love.”

“Soap is bad food.”

“Fiiine. Soap is bad food," he grumbled, though his eyes sparkled. “But you,” he murmured, nuzzling your temple, inhaling deeply, “you are very good food.”

Sighing softly, you buried your face in his still-damp chest, smiling. Immediately, his arms wrapped around you, warm and strong. His hands were big and careful on your back, a gentle kind of possessiveness that always made your heart stutter.

He kissed the top of your head, huffing softly. “Living here is strange. But I like your laughter. Your bright smiles.”

You looked up at him, still grinning. “I appreciate your efforts. Love you so damn much for doing this. Even if you’re trying to swallow everything in my bathroom.”

“I only swallowed toothpaste,” he admitted, lips twitching. “It was tasty, a little too minty but okay.”

“Oh god.” You huffed. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You’re already mine,” he said teasingly. “But no worries, love. I will not eat the soap. Or the toothpaste. Or other hygiene supplies.”

You snorted, hugging him tight. “That’s true love, right there.”

He made a pleased rumble deep in his chest. “I will keep learning. Your world is weird. But it has you.”

Your heart swelled, cheeks flushing. You looked up at this beautiful, strong, impossibly sweet merman; the way the light kissed his eyes, the way his hair curled against his shoulders, the way he looked at you like you were the magic in his life. Leaning in, you kissed his mouth and spoke.

“You, babe, are officially too cute for this planet.”

The paella arrived at the table in a cloud of saffron steam. Plump shrimps curled like crescent moons beside glossy black mussels. Golden rice, studded with ruby-red peppers and emerald peas, formed a bed beneath charred lemon wedges, their rinds blistered from the pan.

Thalos sat on the small table beside you, your aunt at the head. He looked so comically big in the small table, his thigh brushing your own. Very handsome, too but you ignored that thought. He leaned forward, nostrils flaring, his sea-green eyes narrowing at the dish.

“Family recipe!” Kenna said happily, setting down the cast-iron skillet. “The secret’s a lot of paprika and a whole lot of love.”

Thalos picked up his fork, gripping it like a trident, and speared a shrimp. “Parapenaeus longirostris,” he said, inspecting the crustacean. “A tasty little creature. Though I prefer mine fresh—”

You kicked him under the table.

“I mean—” He cleared his throat, flashing Kenna a dazzling smile. “It smells delightful.”

Kenna beamed, hefting a huge portion into his dish. “Dig in, dear!”

Thalos thanked her and took a cautious bite. His throat tightened when the spices hit. “It’s… very hot.”

“That’s the paprika!” Kenna trilled.

“Yes. The… paprika.” He reached for his water glass, chugging it in one gulp—then froze, staring at the lemon wedge floating inside.

“It’s a lemon,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Ah. A lemon.” He plucked it out with two fingers, popped it into his mouth, and immediately grimaced. “So sour!"

You watched, both worried and enthralled, as he navigated the meal, trying to hide that he didn't eat cooked food. It was plainly obvious and you wished your aunt hadn't caught up. At some point, he nibbled a mussel shell, brow furrowed when it refused to yield more meat, then cracked a clam between his teeth with a resonant snap.

“Spit that out right now,” you muttered, kicking him again.

He complied, discreetly depositing the shell fragments into his napkin. “Apologies,” he said, then murmured in your ear. “Land food is… complicated.”

By the next hour, sweat gleamed on his temple—the spices clearly affecting his merfolk palate. You started to worry but he dismissed your glares and soldiered on, charming your aunt.

When dessert arrived—a key lime pie crowned with billowy whipped cream—Thalos prodded the topping with his fork. “Sea foam?”

“Just eat it,” you said, cheeks flaming.

He did. And his entire face transformed—eyes widening, lips parting in a soft, startled wow.

“This,” he declared, licking the fork with deliberate slowness, “is divine.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you said, suppressing a traitorous laugh.

“So, Thalos,” Kenna said, stirring the wine in her glass. “You’re a captain, you say?”

Thalos nodded, his fingers laced around his own untouched wine glass. “I own a vessel,” he said smoothly. “Mostly coastal routes. Cargo. The occasional… salvage.”

“And how did you two meet?” Kenna pressed.

Thalos leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. “Your niece fell from a dock. I fished her out.”

“It was a clumsy accident," you cut in, "and he happened to be swimming nearby—”

“—And from that moment, I felt a bond,” Thalos added, unblinking. “A pull."

Kenna took a sip and grinned. “Romantic.”

“Again with that?” you muttered, though your traitorous pulse quickened.

Kenna chuckled, gesturing between the two of you with her drink. “I knew something was different lately. You look good together.”

“There’s no relationship between us,” you muttered, heat crawling up your neck. The mark beneath your collar pulsed faintly as if punishing you for the lie.

Thalos’s eyes darkened. “Relationship is for strangers. Not for mates.”

The word hung in the air and Kenna’s smile faltered. “You’re a rare one, Thalos. Don’t break her heart.”

He didn’t flinch. “I would sooner carve out my own.”

Kenna snorted, reaching over to pat his arm. “Good answer.”

You stood abruptly, your chair screeching against the tiles. “I’m—getting more rice.”

Thalos rose too. “I’ll help.”

“No, you're a guest!” you snapped, too quickly.

Kenna raised her brows, her smirk returning. “Let him help, sweetie. Men need to earn their keep.”

In the cramped kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator drowned out the ocean’s whispers from the open window. Thalos cornered you against the counter, his heat searing through the thin fabric of your sundress. His chest felt so good against your breasts, your nipples tight inside your bra.

“Why do you fight this?” he murmured, his breath warm fanning your forehead.

“Because you decided for me. You bit me, marked me, turned my life into—into some fairytale—”

“Fairytales lie.” His arms wrapped around you, pushing your bodies flush. “This is real. The bond. The pain. The hunger.” His mouth swept your neck, and the mark flared in answer, a sweet, aching throb. “You feel it too.”

You did. God, you did.

“Thalos—”

“You deny me, yet you burn under my touch.” His thumb grazed your racing pulse. “What do you fear? That I’ll drag you into the deep? I am here, Pearl. On land. Breathing air, choking on paprika, enduring it all—for you.”

Your throat tightened. “You belong to the sea.”

“I belong to you.” The words were raw. “Let me prove it. Let me stay here, in this sunbaked prison of concrete and sand. Or let me take you with me—show you every hidden cove, every secret of my world. You command this… us. I am yours to do as you please.”

You stared at him, stunned. There was no lie in his eyes.

To your displease, he hadn't pressed you further.

Later that night, after Thalos had left, you stood in the kitchen washing the dishes. You scrubbed stubborn grains from a ceramic platter, your gaze drifting past the window where moonlight stitched silver threads into the dark ocean.

Thalos had charmingly hugged Kenna goodbye before pressing an infuriating, toe-curling kiss to your mouth. You’d moaned, for god’s sake. Clutched his stupid linen shirt like some swooning heroine. And he’d liked it, his sea-green eyes glinting with triumph.

You scowled, plunging the plate into soapy water, scrubbing harder.

The ocean murmured beyond the window, waves shushing the shore.

Was he out there?

Had he shifted back? Was he swimming underwater? Was he alright?

God, the food… Kenna had piled his plate high with spiced paella—and Thalos had devoured with enthusiasm, even though you’d noticed his discomfort. You'd tried to stop him but he ate every crumb and laughed at your aunt’s jokes.

You suspected that Merfolk weren’t meant to stomach land food. What if it made him sick? What if—

“So. That’s your mysterious ‘no one’.”

You jumped, nearly dropping the dish. Your aunt leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

“He’s not—”

“Don’t bother, you lovestruck fool.” She winked. “I’ve seen that look before. On your mother, when she met your dad.”

The words punched through you. You turned back to the sink, gripping the sponge until suds dripped down your wrists. Your parents were a half-remembered dream—fragments of stories Kenna had told you over the years. A fisherman and a painter who’d died in a car accident, a few days after you were born.

“They’d have adored him, you know,” Kenna said with a soft smile. “Your dad would’ve interrogated him way harder than me, overprotective but your mom would’ve helped soften his opinion, rooting for the two of you. She've also loved that stunning hair of his.”

“Thalos is not staying,” you muttered, though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

Kenna huffed. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Love’s a risk. I think you should take a chance. And your parents? They’d want the same."

You said nothing, staring at the dark where the sea melted into the sky.

Somewhere out there, Thalos was waiting. Testing. Daring you.

Not footsteps.

Clacking.

Like mandibles grinding together. Like plates flexing. A rhythmic clicking that reverberated off every tree trunk and wrapped around your skull until you couldn't tell which direction led back to your car.

"Please—" you gasped, not sure who you were begging.

The clicking stopped.

So did the wind. The insects.

And then he dropped from the sky.

Not fell. Dropped. Eight feet of dark fur and harder angles, huge wings folding into his back with a wet shff. His head cocked. The blood-red eyes narrowed.

"Hello, darling. My, my... you smell sweet," he said in a deep baritone. "Like honey mixed with fear... the fear makes it sharper."

You scrambled backward. "Stay away from me."

He stepped closer. One leg. Then the other. His feet were wrong; too many joints, too long, ending in claws that clicked against the exposed rock. "You came into my woods. You walked my trails after dark." His head tilted. "That's an invitation where I'm from."

"I didn't know—"

"You knew." The red eyes flared. "Everyone knows. And still you came. Still you ran... tempted me... invited the chase."

No. No! You'd just wanted to clear your head. Just wanted to see the stars away from the town's streetlights. Just wanted—

He advanced and you tried to bolt, but his hand caught your jacket collar and lifted. Your feet left the ground. The world spun. Then your back hit a tree trunk hard enough to punch the air from your lungs.

"Pretty little thing," he murmured, leaning in close. His scent was musky. "All trembly. All mine now."

You shoved at his chest. Your hands sank into soft fur, felt the hard muscle underneath, the impossible heat of him. He didn't budge.

"Let me go."

"No." His free hand came up, claws tracing your jawline with gentleness. "I caught you. That means I keep you."

"Keep me for what?"

He pressed closer. His body was all power and heat, that strange chitinous plating along his ribs grinding against your softer curves. You felt something hard nudge your thigh through his fur—not a limb, not a bone. Something that twitched and swelled as he breathed.

"Figure it out," he rasped.

Your stomach dropped. "No—"

"Yes." His mouth—not a human mouth, wider, fuller, with those clicking mandibles folded flush against his cheeks, brushed your ear. "Going to take you back to my nest. Going to spread you out on the soft moss where I sleep. And then I'm going to learn every sound you make."

The nest was a cave hidden behind a waterfall you never would have found on your own. He carried you there unbothered by your frantic wiggling and shouts. One arm was hooked under your knees, the other cradling your back. Water roared on both sides as he stepped through the curtain, and then—

Silence. Warmth. The smell of earth and flowers and him. His musk coated the back of your throat made tears gather in your eyes. He laid you down on something soft. Moss, like he'd said, thick and soft and surprisingly clean. The cave glowed faintly, candles casting everything in soft light.

"Don't," you whispered as he crouched over you.

His hands found the hem of your shirt. "Don't what? Don't touch you? Don't taste you?" The fabric ripped like paper under his claws. Your bra followed a heartbeat later. "Too late for don't."

Cool air hit your breasts. Your nipples peaked instantly, and you hated them for it, hated how your body responded to the exposure, to his gaze. He stared at your chest like he had never seen anything like it.

One claw-tipped finger traced your sternum "Soft here," he said. "Softer than I thought." The pad of his finger circled your areola. The texture was strange. Gritty.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

He noticed.

"No," he rasped, teasing harder. "I want to hear."

His thumb rolled over your nipple. Once. Twice. The friction made you gasp, a shameful "ahhn" that echoed off the cave walls. He rumbled approval and did it again.

"That's it," he said. "That's the sound."

His other hand found your other breast, and he worked both at once—squeezing, kneading, pinching your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they ached and throbbed and you couldn't stop the little whines leaking from your throat. "Nnnh... nnnh... please..."

"Please what?" He leaned down, and his too-wide mouth closed over one nipple.

The sensation short-circuited your brain. His tongue wasn't like a human tongue. It was longer, narrower, with a rough texture and it wrapped around your nipple while he sucked. The mandibles at the corners of his mouth vibrated against your skin, sending shivers racing down your spine.

"Ahhhnn—fuck—"

He pulled off with a wet shllk. "That's what I intend to do."

Before you could respond, his hands were at your waistband. Your pants came off in strips. He didn't bother with buttons or zippers, just shredded the fabric. Your panties followed. And then you were naked underneath him, spread out on his moss, while he knelt between your legs and looked.

"Spread yourself," he said.

"What?"

"Your legs. Open them. Show me what I caught."

You shook your head, squeezing your thighs together. "I won't."

He laughed. Then his hands clamped onto your knees and pulled. Your legs opened wide. This time, air hit your pussy, and you felt yourself clench around nothing, felt the wetness you couldn't control.

"Wetter than I expected," he observed. One claw traced up your inner thigh, stopping just before it reached your folds. "Scared... but excited. Your body knows what it needs even if your head hasn't caught up."

"It's not—that's not—"

"Shhh." His thumb pressed against your clit. Just pressed. Just the flat of his thumb, gritty and warm, grinding against that bundle of nerves until your hips bucked without permission. "There. See?"

He pushed your legs back farther, opening you completely. His red eyes fixed on your pussy, your outer lips, flushed darker than your skin, on the way your inner lips peeked out slick and swollen.

"Pretty," he drawled "Going to remember how you look right now. Going to remember every fucking detail."

Moving too fast, he lowered his head between your legs. The first lick was long. You jerked, choked on a cry. He tasted you again. From the bottom of your pussy to the top, his rough tongue dragging through your folds. He gathered your wetness, an obscene shllk shllk shllk echoing.

"Taste better than honey," he growled against your flesh.

His mouth closed over your clit, and he sucked.

Your back arched off the moss. "Oh god—"

His tongue flicked—fast, precise, that rough texture catching your clit with every pass. Your hands fisted in the moss. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head. He held you open like it was nothing, like your struggles meant less than nothing, and he ate you like you were his last meal.

"Ahhnn... ahhnn... ahhnn..." The sounds punched out of you with every breath. You couldn't supress them. Couldn't stop the way your hips rolled against his face, chasing his mouth, hating yourself for wanting it.

He noticed. Of course he noticed.

"Yes... grind on my face, darling," he groaned, the words vibrating through your clit. "Harder. Go ahead. Use me. You're already mine, might as well enjoy it."

"Fuck you—"

He bit down on your inner thigh, making you sob before his tongue soothed over the sting.

"That's not what I asked for," he said. "Try again."

Your eyes burned. "I don't—I can't—"

"Grind."

And you did. God help you, you did. You rolled your hips against his mouth, rubbing your clit across his tongue, his lower lip, his chin wet with you. Each drag sent sparks up your spine. Each circle of his tongue made your thighs shake harder.

"That's it," he growled against you. "That's my good little prey."

The orgasm built without permission. You felt it coiling low in your belly, felt your walls clenching around nothing, felt your breath coming in ragged "huh-huh-huh" gasps. You tried to push his head away. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the moss.

"You come when I say," he said.

"Please—unnnh...I can't—it's too much—"

"You can. And you will." His tongue flattened against your clit, relentless. "Come. NOW."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. You fell into oblivion, endless and helpless, while your core pulsed and your thighs clenched around his head and your mouth opened in a silent scream. He kept licking you through it, lapping up every drop of wetness your body released.

Shllk. Shllk. Shllk.

When you finally stopped trembling, he lifted his head. His chin glistened. His red eyes burned.

"Now," he said, crawling up your body until his weight pressed you into the moss, "I fuck you."

You felt his cock before you saw it.

He'd shifted his hips between your thighs, and something hard pressed against your pussy. Too bulky and too hot—not like a human cock. It was thicker at the base, tapered toward the tip, with ridges that caught against your folds as he rocked back and forth.

"What—"

"My kind don't fuck like yours." He gripped his shaft, dark gray, ridged all the way down, weeping something clear and slick from the pointed tip. "We claim."

He positioned himself at your entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your opening, spreading your wetness around, not pushing in yet. Just... waiting.

"Last chance to say no," he said.

"That doesn't make sense—you're not giving me a choice—"

"I'm giving you the chance." His red eyes locked onto yours. "Not the choice. Just the chance to say the word so I can ignore it."

"That's not—"

"Say no."

You opened your mouth.

He thrust inside you.

You whimpered.

He kissed you, tongue plunging into your mouth as he sank inside you. Inch by inch. The stretch was impossible. Those ridges caught at your entrance, dragged through your walls, made you feel him in ways human anatomy hadn't prepared you for. And because he devoured your mouth, a sound came out of you that wasn't quite a scream and wasn't quite a moan.

"Tight," he gritted out. "So fucking tight around me. Squeezing like you want to keep me."

You couldn't answer. Couldn't think. He kissed you, swallowed your moans and filled you so completely you felt him in your throat, in your ribs, in your heart. His hips pressed flush against yours, and the base of his cock—thicker there, almost flared—stretched your opening even wider.

"Aghnnn..."

"Breathe, darling," he whispered, his tongue licking your lower lip.

You sucked in air.

He pulled back. The ridges dragged in reverse, catching on every sensitive spot inside you, and you felt each one—ridge... ridge... ridge—until only the head remained. Then he pushed forward again. Slower this time. Again and again.

Shllk. Shllk. Shllk.

"Better," he murmured. "You're getting softer... wetter." His thumb found your clit again, pressing in time with his thrusts. "Your cunt likes me. Even if your mouth won't admit it."

"Fuck... you..."

"You already are." To prove his point, he snapped his hips harder, driving deeper, and the new angle made you see stars. "And you're going to come again. On my cock. While I fill you up."

"No—I can't—not again—"

"Oh, but you can." His mouth brushed your ear, those mandibles clicking softly against your temple. "You will. And you're going to thank me for it."

His pace increased.

Each thrust pushed the air from your lungs, made your breasts bounce. The motion seemed to mesmerize him because he focused his attention on them, nursing the hard nipples, marking them with little nibbles and sucks.

Soon, a second orgasm was building. This one started from somewhere deep inside you.

"There," he growled, feeling you tighten around him. "There it is. Give it to me."

You shook your head, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. "I can't—it's too much—too much—"

His hand closed around your throat. Not choking, just holding. Feeling your pulse hammer against his palm. "You can. You will. Come.For.Me."

The orgasm crested and kept cresting, making you rock like crazy. Your walls spasmed around his cock and your legs locked around his waist and your mouth fell open on a mewl that went on and on and on.

"Aahhhmmmnnn—"

"Fuck," he snarled, and you felt his cock pulse inside you.

Hot. So hot it almost burned. He pumped into you with short, jerky thrusts, his whole body going rigid, a sound tearing from his chest that was a raw and monstrous clicking roar. His cum filled you. You felt it spilling around his cock, dripping down onto the moss, wrong and right all at once.

And after he was done, he stayed inside you. His weight pressed you into the moss, and for one terrible second, you almost felt safe. Then he squelched out.

You whimpered, felt empty. You felt his seed leaking from you, a warm trickle down your perineum, and you clenched instinctively.

He knelt between your legs, watching. His cock was still half-hard, glistening with both of you, the ridges catching the dim candlelight.

"Again," he said.

You stared at him. "What?"

"Again." He gripped your hips and flipped you onto your stomach before you could argue. Your cheek pressed into the moss. Your ass rose in the air. He knelt behind you, and you felt the head of his cock nudging at your entrance again—slick with his release, with yours.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said, and impaled you to the hilt.

You whimpered, grabbed fistfuls of the moss. This angle was different. Deeper. He hit something that made stars burst behind your eyes.

He moaned. "Good. That's good. Make those sounds for me, darling. Make all of them."

Claws digging into your hips, he held you in place as he fucked you. No gentleness now. No pauses. Just the relentless shllk shllk shllk of his ridged cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt, his grunts and the occasional click-click-click of his mandibles opening and closing in pleasure.

"You're mine now," he said, each word punctuated by a thrust. "This cunt is mine. These sounds are mine. Every orgasm you have from now until I get bored—MINE."

You couldn't answer. Could only take it, only feel it, only exist in the space between his hips and the moss and the endless drag of those ridges inside you. You shattered again and he followed with a snarl, pumping more of that hot seed into your already-full womb. He pulled out and collapsed beside you, one heavy arm thrown over your back, pinning you to the moss.

"Sleep," he said. "We start again at dawn."

You didn't have the strength to argue.

The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was his red gaze, still watching, still hungry, still yours in all the worst and best ways.

The full moon was high up in the sky, its bright shafts sneaking through the dense canopy of the trees. The sounds of night creatures fleeing echoed as you and your mate Vargan walked along the forest path. Everyone feared him and for good reason— Vargan was a winter ghoul. But to you, he was a hulking dominating beauty. A cutie, your mate.

The moonlight illuminated his towering figure as he walked behind you. Vargan towered over you at three times your height. He had a skeletal face with glowing hollow eyes, sharp teeth and massive antlers that cast intricate shadows on the ground. His senses were on high alert for potential dangers. But there was no danger. With him beside you, there was nothing to fear.

Unlike him, you were a human and the mate he had claimed on a fateful night some moons ago. He had mated you, showed you that your hearts and bodies were connected despite your differences. You’d accepted him because despite his monstrous appearance, you felt a deep bond between you that made your heart race. Ever since, you’ve been living together away from civilization in a magnificent cabin in the woods.

That night you were strolling the woods for some fresh air but your ghoul mate had different thoughts. His eyes glinted with a hunger that made your pussy wet. You shared the same naughty thoughts— you had wanted him for a while now. And he finally took action.

With a low growl, he pressed you down against a soft dry patch of moss. His tongue, long and sinuous crashed against yours as his hands slid down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him. You hugged him close, your legs wrapping around his torso even if you were unable to close them.

“You tease me, little star,” Vargan drawled, his breath hot against your neck. “I can smell your arousal.”

“You took your time, my love,” you grinned. “I’ve been waiting to see when you’ll devour me.”

“If I devour you, I will do so as the beast I am. Are you sure?” he rumbled, his voice a deep, resonant growl that caused more juices trickle from your pussy.

“Yes, mate,” you breathed. “I want you to fuck me.”

With a snarl of approval, he tore your clothes away with the tips of his fingers, exposing your soft skin to the cool night air. But you weren’t cold, anything but that. His eyes, dark and predatory roamed over your every curve, heating you up. Vargan dragged his tongue along your neck, your plump breasts, his fingers pinching the taut peaks of your nipples, careful not to hurt you with his sharp claws. He continued his journey downward, licking along your stomach and your inner hips.

“Hmnnn… more!” You clutched his furry shoulders and tugged.

Vargan growled and slapped your bum lightly. “First I feast, mate, then you suck, and then we fuck.”

He gave you no chance to answer because he dove down and buried his face in the glistening wetness between your legs. Whining obscenely, you arched your back while his hands clutched your ankles, spreading them wide apart, offering everything to him. His tongue, cold and textured, explored every inch of your plump folds, slurping at your arousal. It flicked over your clit mercilessly, causing you to grasp his antlers and ride against the slimy appendage.

He devoured you with a hunger like no other, each stroke of his tongue bringing you to one orgasm after the other.

It was too much, too good.

“Oh… oh Gods, mate… hnn…. you’re so good. So good…” you gasped minutes later, your face flushed from the pleasure he’d drawn from you. “Want to suck the big guy now.”

With a grin, you dragged at his cape, the only piece of clothing he wore. Then you reached down, your small fingers finding his monstrous cock. Usually, it aaa hidden in a protective slit alongside his sac but he was so aroused that the thick girth had jutted up proudly. Your hands couldn’t wrap around him. His shaft was thick, long and as hard as a pole, throbbing and covered in ridges. The cockhead was broad and had little tentacles that once deep inside you, they fondled and latched to your cervix.

“Sit back, mate,” you instructed sweetly. “It’s my turn to feast now.”

Vargan sat on his haunches, his furiously aroused cock bulging up toward his belly. You lowered yourself to your knees before him— his huge form dwarfing you. You grasped his cock with both hands and let your tongue tease the tentacles wiggling on the head. Smiling, you pumped his length and trailed your tongue along the ridges then down to his round swollen balls. He was so endowed, the feel and size of him otherworldly. He also had so much cum to fill you up because his sacs were swollen full.

“Have I told you how much I love your cock?” you mumbled as you wrapped your lips around the head. Your tongue brushed with the little tentacles, giving them some love.

“Hmmm…” his voice was a low vibration. “You remind me every time I reduce you to a cute, blabbering, fucked-up mess.”

Grinning, you tried to fill your mouth with more of his dick but couldn’t take but one third of his length. Vargan growled, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the forest and turned you on more. You bobbed your head, taking him a little deeper and gagged slightly but continued. He watched you, his hand cradling your head and guiding you to swallow his cock.

Your tongue swirled around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum that dripped from the head.

“That’s it…” he sighed pleasurably. “Getting me so wet with this little mouth of yours. Such a good mate.”

When he could no longer take it, he lifted you against him, his hands gripping you from under your thighs. Your breasts squeezed against his bony chest, your legs spread wide open. His cock, now slick with your saliva, pressed against your drenched entrance. The thick head manipulated your folds and you gasped as it began to push inside, his immense size invading you inch by inch.

Slowly, Vargan lowered you down on his cock, stretching you to your limits until he was fully embedded within you. The tip kissed your cervix, the wiggling tentacles fondling all around. You cried out and clutched at him as he began to thrust with powerful upward strokes. He invaded you again and again, your belly swelling each time he buried himself inside. Setting a primal pace, he pounded hard, squelching sounds and your cries echoing through the forest, mingling with his guttural groans.

“Fuck, you feel so good, mate,” he snarled, his grip on your hips tightening. “So tight, so wet around me.”

“Ahhhn… I—I’m clo-close!” you whimpered, nails digging into his hairy forearms as you held on for dear life, your tits shaking with the force of his thrusts.

“I can feel that,” Vargan said, his tongue seeking your mouth and driving inside.

His tail joined the sensual game, coming to rest between your legs and circling your clit. The appendage stimulated you, eventually pushing you over the edge. You came with a scream, your walls clamping down on his cock, your toes curling in the air. Vargan roared in response, his pace becoming even more frantic until with a final, deep thrust, he spilled inside you, hot seed filling you to the brim. Your belly rounded with his cum and you came with little aftershocks at the little tentacles caressing your insides.

But he wasn’t done with you yet.

With a satisfied growl, he kept you there, speared on his cock, your pussy leaking your combined juices. He began to move, walking leisurely toward your cabin. He held you close against him, his fur and cloak shielding you from the cold. With every massive step of his, he filled you over and over, your body rocking in rhythm with his movements.

“Mine,” he growled, licking into your mouth. “My perfect little cocksleeve.”

“Yours. Only ever yours,” you moaned as another orgasm washed over you.

You spent the night being a good cocksleeve for you mate and by the time you arrived to your cabin, you were a spent, well-fucked mess.