Private Time in the Study
Private Time in the Study
Request Story for @loxerad involving Elias Ainsworth and their OC
Kinks: cum inflation, hypnosis, blood, biting, size difference, breathplay
A voice, a whisper, a murmur. “Let’s rest.”
Elias was one’s target, was a puppet to one’s desires. And he relished the moment of relief.
The office had been too tidy for the day, too sterile, filled with endless discussions. Prospective projects, innovative initiatives, idealized ideas. Nothing that was out of the ordinary for the Magus, industrious and yet isolationist. The pen had been tired from leaving such a long trail over the paper, the cracking fire had been eager to warm more than the hands and faces, the clothes tempted to discover new horizons down to earth.
Purple-scalies fingers had helped Elias’ dark purple ones. Red flickering eyes met with yellow ones.
One voice, one whisper, one murmur: “Let it go.”
Elias Ainsworth was a magus, a creature of unknown origin. His traits, his attitude, his mannerisms were an oddity. His skull was no human but bestial, the horns twisting and wrangling onto themselves, and only the finest of fabric dangled from them.
Only the thinnest of cloth remained on his body as vest, shirt, belt, shoes, socks, belts, and undergarment slipped free.
But he was not alone? Was he?
Someone else beheld him. One whose eyes were sultry and eager, one whose fingers stroked and explored the dry muscles underneath the leathery skin, one whose caresses elicited shivers from the Magus.
One voice, one whisper, one murmur: “I am yours. Take me.”
Yes. Elias owned that body. That person belonged to the Magus. Lucidity became a haze, veiled by lust and irrational rationalization.
The clawed hands danced on the generous thighs, the thin waist, the thinner belly, the flat chest, the shoulders to hold them. Back pressed to a chest, held tight and close despite the difference in size. Even Elias’ groin was pressed against the soft purple scales, cold to the touch.
“I’ll break you, Loxer. You are mine.”
No voice, no whisper, no murmur. Only acknowledgment and a “Yes” uttered by luscious lips meeting their fate. The tongues tied. So did the bodies, entering that waltz of hands, digging and exploring where they shouldn’t. Of mouth and fangs descending along an elongated serpentine neck, leaving huffed breaths on its path. And then, kisses. So many, counting them was purposeless. Yet, heralding the danger as those fangs delved into the scales, piercing the soft resistance.
Red, tangy, sumptuous. The liquid flowed free and smothered the tongue, eroding away the sampled tea and biscuits, leaving only the bloodlust.
The hands encircled, tried to push free. Was there a fear? Was there an error? Was it… A regret? Nevertheless, the moans and beggings were only words echoing in Elias’ mind. His tongue darted, and he licked, sampled, savored the liquid. The mind indulged in the basest instincts it had forsaken years ago. Only for them to return in that hour, against that lithe body, the Beast loomed above.
Shadows cast by the fire hid away the pained grunts, the whistling lips, the exulting breaths.
Enraptured caresses continued as the shoulders extended, pressed. As the difference could no longer be ignored, as the fangs became white like crystal and dangerous. Yet, foremost was the lust as palms descended and stroked the Magus’ growing parts.
Over the purple and low-hanging jewels, touching and rubbing them until the skin seemed to glisten from the fire and the sweat, then over the likewise-colored penis. The wrinkled foreskin had been smoothened, and the wide head pressed against the back, liberating a luscious flow drizzling over those scales. The aroma was so heavy, heady, ready. To invade, to take, to claim.
The body did not resist when the clawed hands cupped the thighs and posterior. Even a resistance would be futile as the pain would overwhelm the pleasure in that instant. Then, the limp body set aside like a doll, hands pried the desired thighs apart. If the fangs were working on eliciting ichor… This time, it would be pleasure.
The long tongue slipped from the skull.
Long, covered, coated, prehensile. It shifted left then right, serpentine. It brought the yellow eyes’ attention, forced the slitted pupils to follow the path until it darted between the legs.
No voice, no whisper, no murmur.
Only a bountiful moan, a yawning mouth opening to signify the pleasure from the yawning entrance.
The ass remained bare and untouched. But not the slit and private parts. Not the body as it was given kiss after kiss into the most bare and innocent reaches.
“I can’t… Take it anymore.”
A beg. One among many. But ignored by Elias. The tongue continued to worm its way inside, continuing its path onward and in width. A width that increased, forcing the poor yawning door to open further. To push the limits of what the orifice could endure, to turn pleasure into fire, and the fire inside into pleasure.
A scalie hand reached in between, trying to keep the hole open and prepared, to touch the borders.
“Your taste is unique,” commented Elias.
The savor was sweet, but not excessively so. And the slight touches of musk, flowery perfume, and salt were a perfect touch. A tantalizing flavor the Magus indulged in. So much so the tongue remained heedless to the pleas. It wormed, squeezed, rolled. And with it, followed the shivers, the quivers, the slivers of delight. Ceaseless and manifold.
The serpentine tongue extended onward, green and fiery. It danced and flailed, enjoying the taste permeating the room. Strong and potent, pertaining to a Beast or a Monster, no longer the industrious Magus.
Beastly needs claimed their roots back. And so, the hands reached for the knees. There was pain as might was applied on them further than articulations could naturally endure. Yet, there was no further abuse. Only strong hands tracing a path for the powerful mast to follow.
Their sizes were contrasting. The voice, the whisper, the murmur, was no more than a speck of light inside the night produced by the shade. The flames were not snuffed out, but they could have been. There was only the night as that tongue danced and returned to the neck, so did the fangs. There was only the dark when warmth wrapped over the body, blanketing and protecting it. There was only the void when the wide tip pressed against the entrance, pushing the organ to its limits. Moans and groans continued, shared and desired.
The claws planted again, but with a shallow impact. There was the sensation of the bite, the soreness following, but the blood remained inside, this time. The blood the Beast licked and cleaned, savoring it and the rush of impulses that followed.
Elias… No. Whatever had taken its role was at the entrance. And past it. The inferno overtaking the lover’s reaches was unbearable, quasi-breaking the hips in that infernal presence. And so followed the tears, the heaved breaths, the desire to back out of it.
“I”
A voice, a gargle, a wheeze.
“Not yet.”
The hands held the voice silent, crushing and squeezing on the vocal cords, applying might that throttled the breath. The moment expanded as so dwindled the reflexes and thoughts; the pleasure overtook what the veil hid away.
Tears streaked across the scalies cheeks and jaws, born from the presence, from the sting on the neck, and the pressure inside.
Such a pressure that forced the belly to distend and adapt to the invasion.
Such an invasion, the guts were to be left scarred and affected by the brutal taking.
Such taking, the cheeks were hit. The ravishing genitalia apace.
“Not yet. I want this.” ordered the deep voice that had been left silent for far too long. And so… The movements continued.
Each hit was a hardly-swallowed breath. Each hit was a pummeling against the guts and lungs. Each hit was another cry for the sofa beneath it, bearing the brunt of their united weight.
In the distance, there was the crackling fire. In the distance, there were steps. In the distance… There were so many things and yet, impossible to reach as the pleasure was drowning everything.
As the ecstasy, too, took a part of the spoils. The hole quivered and tried to close. The sphincters incessantly worked to push back the invader, only to motivate more growls and grunts, to motivate a flow that would be another fire and hitting the depths before drowning them.
And it happened.
Finally. The red eyes blinked, and the looming Beast receded, but for a moment. The steps away, the legs trembling. White now painted the bruised and purple scales. White permeated the broken inside. White was all over those spread thighs and abused muscles.
A hand reached for the skull, stroking it in shame and surprise. No voice, no whispers, no murmur.
“What… Happened?”
The doubt was certain, the fear followed. And yet, it was mirth and amusement that brought an end to the stupor as scalies hands reached for the abused neck. The bruises would remain, as a reminder.
“Something we ought to do more, Elias.”
And the jaw dropped before the red eyes looked away. Ashamed. Yet eager to resume what had happened.