Subtle Shark Seduction
This is a story commission I've done for https://www.furaffinity.net/user/spittor/
Description: In the wake of a xenomorph movie that left Shakran positively horny, the work-ed up shark and his charming partner Spittor journey home amidst the shark's incessant rambling. Completely drained of eagerness to bring Shakran's needs to completion, Spittor finds himself roped into the shark's devious plans thanks to that skilled tongue of his.
***Subtle Shark Seduction***
Spittor never had to put all that much effort into discussing movies. Just nod, grunt, approve. That seemed to be enough for the overly stimulated Shakran who clung to him like a moth drawn to a nearby beacon of light, droning on and on and on about how amazing this rather forgettable movie was.
An eye-rolling experience for most, but quite a lovely one for Spittor. After all, who wouldn't want to see their partner in such high spirits? Especially when it often led to spicier scenarios back home? These types of movies often left their mark on Shakran down below, with his tacit excitement smeared all over his underwear.
Infused with a wide grin by his partner's infectious excitement, Spittor wrapped his scaled arm around Shakran's waist to keep the bumbling fool from bumping into passerbies. He was still riding high from the enjoyment of the movie, the thrill of the xenomorph creature featured within his bright--and thoroughly distracted--golden eyes.
"I seriously didn't expect them to hint at anatomical correctness! And no, I'm not imagining things! You saw it yourself! That was a freaking slit dude! Maybe even a little peeking out! You know, due to adrenaline and stuff!" Shakran's spirited voice almost attracted the attention of others.
Before Spittor had the chance to correct that, the shark's energy dwindled for obvious reasons. "Ah yes. That look. It's just xenomorphs, right? For you it might as well have been any other action movie. Well, guess who isn't getting any of that tonight!"
The purple-and-yellow lizard chuckled, his red slitted eyes dancing with amusement. "Fine by me. I'm not the one inches from creaming myself at my own movie review, if it can even be called that. If you wanted a blowjob, you could've asked for one. Would have made the movie much better, too."
Spittor's teasing tone was met with a playful swat from Shakran's tail. "Real, actual slits," the shark grumbled. "And that's the point! Isn't it like...artistic as fuck when they can make a fantasy creature look so...mrrm....freakishly sexy?"
There was no real malice in Shakran's frown; just intense enthusiasm fueled by fascination with a type of creature Spittor wasn't particularly into. Why drool over some unrelatable alien when he had Shakran's slit at his mercy?
"You did at least appreciate the angles, right? How well they captured its elongated head, the sinuous tail, those meaty haunches and the little present tucked between them..." Shakran rambled on, his voice filled with an almost reverent awe.
Spittor's tail swished behind him, the plates lining it shimmering under the moonlight. He let out a low, gruff scoff as they continued their walk down the increasingly empty pavement. "You're more flustered about this than that time I snuck a hand down your pants during our anniversary meal," he teased, his warm breath tickling Shakran's gill slits.
"Oy...it's not quite the same thing..."Shakran nudged his encroaching snout back, blushing a shade that was almost imperceptible under his yellow skin. His passion didn't falter though, eyes still shining bright with a starry, horny-laden excitement. He continued to jabber on about the xenomorph, his hands gesturing in all sorts of endearing and animated ways, drawing imaginary pictures in the air of the scenes that left the biggest impression.
"I'm telling you, Spittor," Shakran stated with conviction, "that xenomorph was art in motion."
Spittor merely chuckled, his heart filled with an indescribable fondness. If he had a blowjob for every instance of 'art' Shakran mentioned...
Even as he continued to crack jokes, teasing Shakran about his crush on a fictional alien creature, he couldn't deny the charm that Shakran's unfiltered fervor held.
The sounds of the city began to falter as they neared their home, allowing Shakran's words to resonate all the louder. There was no resisting him when he was like this. His love for the beautiful and bizarre was just one of the many things Spittor adored about his partner, especially when showering time came. Always a treat to be the one to unveil that messy slit....
Upon reaching the entrance to their apartment building, Spittor pushed the door open and held it ajar for Shakran to enter. The shark walked in, his tail swaying behind him. The dimly lit lobby seemed almost desolate, the click and clack of their footsteps reverberating off the worn-out tile floor.
As they approached the waiting elevator, Spittor noticed subtle changes in Shakran's demeanor. He began shifting on his feet a little, a telltale fidgeting that often followed movies of stimulating intensity. Shakran's gills fluttered in an unusual rhythm, his tail twitching sporadically.
Turning to look at him, Spittor was met with a slightly flushed Shakran. The shark's eyes were slightly glazed, an undeniable look of desire clouding them. Spittor could almost detect traces of the shark's arousal in the enclosed air of the building, a mix of oceanic salt and something uniquely Shakran.
"Quite the mood, eh?" he said on an even tone, not one to give his entire game away so soon.
Shakran looked away, rubbing the back of his head, a touch of embarrassment mingling with his excitement.
"Well... it was a good movie. What more you want me to say?"
The doors of the elevator slid open, inviting them into the quiet space inside. While the smell of elevator permeated the enclosed space, it did not take long for Shakran's to overpower it.
"Spittor..." Shakran began, but the lizard interrupted him with a roll of his eyes as he pressed the button for their floor.
"Oh, don't be so coy, Shak. We've been here before, haven't we? Like...literally here," Spittor said, his tone playful yet reassuring. "If something happens, it happens. If it doesn't, maybe pick a sexier movie next time."
"Rrff..." Shakran grunted, and said no more.
Every movie night featuring certain creatures seemed to conclude with Shakran's fantasy-fueled arousal. Even as he stood there, radiating anxious desire, there was something charming about his awkwardness. It was a strange amalgamation of innocence and desire that always left Spittor enchanted.
As the elevator climbed, Shakran found himself unable to make eye contact. Every time his weakness was confronted, he turned into this mellow and placid fella, unable to just seize what he wanted. Spittor couldn't help but chuckle, his heart filled with fondness for his seemingly unruffled partner who now fidgeted under the weight of his own desire.
The ride to their floor seemed to last an eternity--at least for one of them--with the thick silence only broken by the hum of the elevator. Shakran found himself staring at the glowing numbers above the door, each change marking a step closer to the inevitable.
Finally, with a soft ding, the elevator reached their floor. The doors slid open, allowing a stream of cooler air to rush in and temporarily wash away the heady scent of Shakran's arousal. With a wide grin, Spittor extended his hand towards Shakran. "Messy slits first."
As they stepped out onto their floor, Shakran's eagerness began to transfer over into Spittor. A tingle here, an itch there, a barely noticeable throb within the depths of his slit... It was an amusing conclusion to their movie nights, a peculiar tradition that Spittor had grown to adore. His affection for Shakran and the anticipation of the night to come left him with a warmth that had little to do with the heat radiating from the still flustered shark.
Upon entering their apartment, Spittor gave a nonchalant shrug to Shakran's proposition to Netflix and chill, peeling off his jacket with a casual grace. The shirt followed suit, revealing mauve scales that glittered under the warm light of the hallway spotlights. Shakran couldn't help but steal a glance at the muscular body hidden beneath the sturdy plates of his chest, lean yet strong.
"So uhh...this is a bit faster than it usually goes?"
"You know how it is after cinema night. Gotta wash off the stink of those nasty seats." Spittor kicked off his pants and sauntered towards the bathroom, his swishing tail blocking Shakran from racing him to it. The lizard turned his head slightly, smirking at the wide-eyed gaze of Shakran following his every movement.
"Good of you to let me finish that second sentence. Wouldn't want you to assume it's only the first that matters," Spittor winked.
Just as he reached for the bathroom door, a firm hand grabbed his arm. "I quite like the first one," Shakran insisted, the usually soft-spoken shark taking a rare dominant stand. "It more accurately describes what is going to happen next."
"Oh?" Spittor glanced at his partner's surprisingly strong grip and laughed, a rich sound that echoed through the room. "And how is it my problem you're all riled up over some movie creature, Shak?"
Shakran's reply was swift, his hand releasing Spittor's arm only to trail up to his face. His tongue, tapered and talented, came out to wet his lips, an intentional move that had Spittor's eyes following the tantalizing motion.
"I can make it your problem too, you know?" Shakran asked, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Can't be horny all on my own."
That did it; that wet, slippery eel trailing over that devilishly sexy snout that had blessed him with many unexpected pleasures on one too many occasions. To say that Spittor did not enjoy such moist and select attentions in places where they most mattered...
A low, disarmed huff trailed past the lizard's grinning lips, crimson eyes glinting in the ambient light. "I mean...it can take quite the effort to get me in the mood. You sure you're up for all that work without jizzing your boxers halfway there?" An undertone of intrigue coated the soft, elaborate words Spittor whispered to his expecting partner.
A rare glint of boldness sparked in the shark's round and focused eyes. "That's a risk I'm willing to take."
The same hand that kept him from entering the bathroom switched stances. It now dragged a flabbergasted Spittor over to the bedroom, his steps barely able to keep straight in the mad rush there. Shakran's determination to see this through was as steadfast as his hold, an arousing certainty that tinted Spittor's cheek scales a shade deeper.
"Good grief, but you're persistent," Spittor finally said after being unceremoniously dumped on the edge of the bed. "And for what? What do you got to prove? That you can turn me horny on demand like an on and off switch?"
"Better to show than to tell..."
When Shakran's tail meant to push, it really did.
Spittor's breath left his lungs in one sudden gasp as he found himself flat on his back, groin dangling over the edge of the bed. The shark's surprisingly gentle fingers slid down his only remaining piece of clothing in one fell swoop, exposing the in-between of his legs to the tingling promise of what was to come.
"Wow," Spittor said after a few seconds of exactly nothing. "So much for instant action. Then again, you've always been more of a--a--I mean--you're--ffuck you're--eating me....out!"
Spittor's fluttering eyelids gave up their struggle to remain up. They shuttered the lizard's eyes, thrusting him into a dizzying world of too intense pleasure. It felt ridiculous to succumb so quickly to the twisting tornado that Sharkan's tongue was, but Spittor couldn't help himself. Those exaggerated, audible slurping sounds hit him straight into his weakest point, painting vividly lewd images in his mind based on the onslaught of those overwhelming sensations.
"G--gosh, easy with those....grrrrh that...snoutttt!"
Shakran was no gentle lover when it came to tucking into his meal. He bucked into Spittor to stimulate passionate thrusts, all while his lips nibbled on the scalie outline of Spittor's vent, the plates there soft and awfully receptive to his nibbles. The shark knew him far too well. He understood what made Spittor tick and dished it back tenfold, a violent foreplay of almost instant results.
Embraced, squeezed, milked and tugged out of its sanctuary by his partner's relentless tongue, the pointy nubs dotting the base of Spittor's shaft swelled to their characteristic firmness faster than expected. The fan of barbs hooding his tip bloomed against Shakran's nurturing tongue, granting him a meatier section to suckle on as if a popsicle.
Blessedly, the maddening pace at which this all began did not last until climax. With Spittor's slit providing less and less space for Shakran to maneuver, the shark resorted to nudging and kissing along the lizard's wet and glistening length.
"Look at you, all huffy and squirmy. Seems the old tricks still work," Shakran's mischievous rumble had a taunting purr to it.
One of Spittor's eyes cracked open to regard that big, smug smile. "You better not finish me off in such cliché way."
"Oh no," his engulfing lips around Spittor's tip forced the lizard's head to crash back into the mattress. "There's far more to this."
One word, one lascivious sentence at a time, Shakran began to outline his fantasy to Spittor in between licks, cocktip suckles, and slit tonguing. Though narrow, the tip of his tongue could still find side or bottom entrances, the absence of Spittor's engorged knot allowing for such lewd violations.
"F--fuck, that's enough!" Spittor regained control over his body and senses with a soft kick to Shakran's toned chest. "I'm not gonna cum to your words and tongue alone. Not without going through that little plan of yours. How about we switch?"
With a swift, practiced motion, Spittor dragged Shakran down onto the plush mattress. The shark flopped down willingly beside his partner, a dreamy look in his eyes at the possible plot twist of Spittor taking the charge and top him there and then.
But he wasn't getting off so easily this time.
With Spittor's turn to look down on the vulnerable and exposed Shakran, the lizard's erection nodded in approval once his eyes drifted down to Shakran's clothed thighs. There was a certain pleasure in seeing the usually composed shark so frisky; so willing and needy! With a satisfied smirk, Spittor dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed for a first-person point of view at the unfolding action.
"Patience, Sharky," Spittor purred, his clawed hands resting on the fastening of Shakran's pants. His fingers moved slowly, teasingly, undoing each button one at a time. "You'll get your turn. In about ten minutes, that is."
Whatever protest awaited on the tip of his tongue remained there as the shark watched his partner's gliding hands with bated breath, his own hands gripping the edges of the mattress tightly. He could feel the tantalizing touch of Spittor's fingers, the promise of pleasure hanging heavy in the air.
"Would you look at that," Spittor whistled while dragging Shakran's pants down to expose his boxers. A distorted, damp line created an erratic outline of his vent, the once-clear depiction smudged by the constant peeking out of his member. It must've poked and prodded at his underwear quite often to create those slimy splotches, both during the movie and well after its ending.
"You're such a fucking pervert..." came more of Spittor's inward thoughts. "A surprise you didn't climax."
"How could I when I live with such a naysayer?" Shakran arched his hips to push that patch of erotic wetness closer to his partner's nostrils. "You've got a lot of making up to do, lizzie."
"I do, don't I?"
The light grope of his boxers' edges made Shakran swallow audibly. His anticipation heightened as his entire focus rested on Spittor and the bliss he promised. He squirmed slightly, the anticipation making his skin tingle.
Spittor's soft laughter broke the heavy silence of the room, an indulgent sound woven with amusement. He observed Shakran, his shark lover's large form fraught with a tension that ebbed and flowed like the waves of a restless sea.
"You're awfully patient," Spittor observed, his words carrying a touch of playful jest, a challenge that echoed in the charged atmosphere of the room. Each word hung in the air, dense and heady, stirring shivers down Shakran's spine. "Now that the time has finally arrived, you wanna make the best of it, eh?"
Caught in the intensity of the moment, Shakran offered no retort. Instead, he yielded to the pace of his partner, releasing a quiet, pleading whine.
The audible plea widened the smirk on Spittor's muzzle, the corners curling upwards into a satisfied grin. The shark's eagerness mirrored in his dazzling golden eyes was the sweetest of victories, a prize of Spittor's patient game of seduction.
"Ease yourself, Shak," he drawled in that intoxicating way of his. His claws traced a deliberate path over the insides of Shakran's bare haunches, their tips causing the shark to twitch and tense up. "We're merely at the beginning."
His soothing words hung between them, a murmured promise of what was to come. Erect as he was, Spittor took his time with his sluggish caress of the pale yellow inside of the shark's thighs, shifting over to his slit now and then to grope and caress through the damp fabric. The slow simmer of anticipation inside Shakran intensified, manifested by the meager tent he began to poke in Spittor's face.
Good. Let him simmer and broil some more.
The tantalizing pace that Spittor set was maddening. Every stroke, every lascivious whisper added to the mood the two tried to create. Neither wanted to break the pattern; to give in to their urge and spoil this game. Just like Spittor relished his position of power, so did Shakran bask in the careful ministrations of his partner. A ripple of shivers here, a hitched breath there--Spittor played him according to his wants and desires with the skill and dedication Shakran grew to expect from his lover.
Control. It was an intoxicating thing.
To see such powerful reactions borne from mere touch; to watch Shakran squirm, shift, whimper and moan with need. The sensation of Shakran's flesh quivering beneath his fingers, at the slightest tug of the boxer's rim, was deliciously rewarding. It was an addicting combination of heavy breaths and startled gasps, a fulfilling payoff to a night of persistent sexual innuendos.
And then, the last of Shakran's defenses gave way. As the final piece of cloth began its slow descent those shapely thighs, Shakran exhaled a heavy breath, his chest heaving in anticipation. There was an undeniable allure in watching Shakran in this state; his eyes half-lidded, his body aglow with the burning desire that simmered beneath the surface of his pale-orange skin.
Shakran's half-shuttered eyes drowned in a curious mix of devotion and need, the iridescent glow of those golden globes as inviting as the rosy touch of his flushed skin.
"A--ahh..." the shark's features mellowed, the picture of raw, femboy need. Glued to his vent, the center of the boxers needed a firmer tug to break through those webs of congealed arousal sticking it in place. Shakran's flushed vent, slightly spread by his peeking head, drowned in its juices, oozing its distinguishable aroma of briny lust.
The sight of his partner's smooth, scaleless, naked vent stole the air from Spittor's lungs. Shakran, usually so composed, lay before him utterly undone, his pulsing vent draped in a sheen of beckoning desire. Spittor's pulse pounded in his temples, the rhythm mirroring the insistent throb of his own pressing urges. He breathed in that thick specific aroma, letting its potency wash through him in the form of tingling arousal.
Despite the tantalizing sight of Shakran's shaft, peeking shyly from its flushed shelter, Spittor's attention dwelled on the plump, rosy edges of Shakran's vent. The warmth pouring from that prominent mound alighted on the tip of his snout, a gentle caress tempting him to action.
Without a word, Spittor leaned in, the tip of his tongue flicking in short, teasing strokes over the slickened surface. The taste of Shakran's mounting need exploded on his tongue, a rich, stimulating flavor that made his cock's nubs and spines bloom to their full extent. Each stroke of his tongue drew moany gasps from Shakran, his hands gripping fistfuls of sheets as if to hold on with everything he had from losing his grip on sanity.
"Don't you early climax on me, Shak," Spittor winked from between his partner's legs. The tracing laps of tongue continued as he followed along the heated contours of Shakran's vent, each brush bringing in more of his partner's precum into his mouth. The rhythmic motions elicited small whines from Shakran, the vulnerability in those sounds driving Spittor to continue his sweet torment.
The rich taste of Shakran filled inebriated Spittor's senses, the slick texture a tantalizing contrast to his own musk. The shark's responses fueled his ardor, keeping his body and loins aflrame with a matching desire. Spittor paid no heed to the tightness of his shaft, to the pressing urgency of his flared cock head to drive straight into that squelching haven of moist, heated flesh. For now, his focus lingered on dominating his lover in this most tantalizing of ways, savoring every single one of those licks filled with the shark's pent-up longing.
Determined to bring some variety to his repertoire and help carry Shakran's pleasure to greater heights, Spittor moved his attentions to the slick lips of his vent. The soft tissues quivered under the tabs of his tongue tip and the gentle pulls of his lips, a tremor that resonated with Shakran's barely suppressed moans.
His tongue played along the edges of the semi-erect cock, each taste, each lap stoking the fires of desire within them both. The fleshy outline of Shakran's vent seemed to weep tears of contained lust, an invitation that Spittor accepted wholeheartedly.
Ignoring the demanding throb of his own member, Spittor took his time, savoring the salty-sweet essence of Shakran's arousal. His every movement had a deliberate cruelty to it, intent on drawing exquisite pleasure from his partner without pulling more of his member into the open. Though his reddened face was a mask of frowns, arched eyebrows and silent gasps, Shakran relished this approach. The smooth plumpness of his vent bespoke of his submissive tendencies, and unlike Spittor's plate-covered entrance, Shakran's vulnerable skin posed a far greater degree of vulnerability.
As his tongue continued its work, he felt Shakran's shaft slowly emerging, the tip of it sliding against the top of his muzzle. Spittor allowed the intimate contact for a second or two. The heated pulse of the emerging cock added another layer to their shared intimacy.
But before it had the chance to harden, the lizard's snout opened wide to mold around Shakran's mound. The entire surface of Spittor's tongue rolled and drifted across Shakran's slit and cock both, suckling on skin, flesh and meat alike at a pace that sent the shark's back crash down onto the bed.
"Fffuuuck st...stooohp!" Moaning cries broke loose. "You're gonna--I'm too close to--"
Spittor eased up on the tongue play a little, welcoming Shak's cock into his mouth for a stronger, more vulgar aroma. While the added stimulation to his member immediately caused it to flare up to full mast inside Spittor's mouth, the crisis of his climax was averted, a strange but delightful irony that came with those more slit-sensitive partners.
"Fuck...that was...."
Spittor barely registered those words over the wet, salacious sound of the blowjob he administered his lover. With each passing moment, the room filled with the sounds of their mutual desire. Shakran's breaths and moans harmonized with the wet sounds of Spittor's feast. The sight, taste, and scent of Shakran writhing under his ministrations made for an intoxicating cocktail that drove him further, his own needs momentarily cast aside in favor of seeing just how far he could push Shakran.
Not far enough, apparently.
Just as he began to tease those underlining bumps of Shak's cock with the tip of his tongue, the shark's resolute foot pushed against his shoulder hard enough to force him to spit out that saliva-lathered shaft.
"That's quite enough, Lizzie."
Confusion painted itself onto Spittor's features as Shakran deftly slid off the bed, his crimson gaze following his partner's curious moves. In their dance of desire, Spittor had always taken the lead. This sudden change, of dealing with an erect Shakran attempt to lift and carry him up into the bed, filled him with a thrilling sense of anticipation. His bemusement soon melted into a wicked grin, the promise of a new, exciting challenge lighting up his eyes.
"I get the point, yes," the lizard smirked as he made himself comfortable on his back amidst the plush covers. His hands found their way beneath his head, fingers lacing together in a pose of relaxed dominance. Though the yellow of his belly bespoke of his vulnerability before Shakran, Spittor's insistent glare shared a different story, the challenge in them clear.
"Show me what you've got, fishie."
"Don't you early climax on me, Spittor."
Oh, now that was foul, using his own lines against him! Still, that merely added to Spittor's spreading grin, his erection fuller and harder than ever. Shakran's futile attempts to lift and carry him into the bed took their toll on his erection, now a meager peek and a whole lot of drooling slit to absorb Spittor within that fleshy embrace.
Every fiber in Spittor's scaled body tingled in eager anticipation while Shakran's large form maneuvered to straddle Spittor. His hands, usually gentle if not a tad indecisive, now possessed an arousing firmness as they guided Spittor into position. A tremor of pent-up lust shook Spittor as he felt the first brush of Shakran's heated flesh against his eager shaft, the barbed crown of his tip tensing up at the taste of slit fluids.
"There you go, eager boy," Shakran's hips lowered to swallow more than half of Spittor's cock into himself. Though brisk, that single slide through his partner's twitching flesh all but forced the lizard's eyes to screw shut, lest he came from that abrupt penetration.
Unaccustomed to being the one on the back, Spittor's first instinct was to arch his back off the bed and thrust more of his girth into his expecting partner, the knot at his base bulging wider with instinctual need to finally cum. Shakran's vent enveloped him with such enthusiastic squelch, its warmth and wetness cocooning his length in a glove of exquisite pleasure.
"Now now, don't forget where you are, and where I am."
As he said that, Shakran's swaying hips broke into motion, pumping up and down Spittor's length at a slow enough pace to keep the two of them dancing at similar rhythm. The lack of control calmed Spittor's raging boner a tad, helping to tame the wild fire sizzling within his knot.
Yet even that slower, tantalizing pace almost proved too much for Spittor. His sudden gasp morphed into a low moan, his body vibrating with the intensity of those almost overwhelming sensations. Shakran's vent was everything he had dreamt of and more--warm and wet, a haven of pleasure that had always seemed tailor-made for him. He could feel every pulsation, every clench, the internal muscles rhythmically squeezing him in an intimate caress intent on working him to climax.
After all their foreplay, Spittor's mind seemed to short-circuit, the intensity of this unplanned twist of events threatening to consume him whole. Every inch of him now lay ensnared in that delicious heat, the grip of Shakran's vent around his cock a tantalizing promise of what was to come. The world outside their bubble of pleasure ceased to exist, all his senses honed in on the intoxicating warmth surrounding him.
Spittor's fingers curled into the bedsheets, the tactile sensation a grounding anchor in the overwhelming sea of pleasure. His breath hitched, chest rising and falling in rapid pants, each exhale an almost desperate attempt to retain his lucidity a while longer.
The repeated tremors of Shakran's vent, the wave of tightness drawing another moan from his lips, the slipping drool oozing from his vent with every penetration--it all seemed otherworldly to Spittor. He had never experienced such an intense feeling, the wet walls of Shakran's vent relentlessly milking him at an almost vicious pace. Every flex, every twitch sent jolts of pleasure racing up his spine, hellbent on testing the limits of what his mind and body could endure in terms of sexual delight.
Lost in the throes of pleasure, Spittor gave up the struggle of trying to control this--of attempting to overthrow Shakran's control over him. He had no drive, no energy for that. So, he reveled in the intoxicating sensation of being engulfed within Shakran, riding the high brought by that myriad of sensations stimulating every inch and spine of his cock.
The constant friction of their two cocks did not leave Shakran's shaft idle for too long. The rhythm was slow at first, each motion an expedition into uncharted territories. As Shakran adjusted to the riding motions, a gentle pulse began to stir within his own shaft. It was a subtle awakening, a hint of the pleasure that was yet to come. Spittor's length, nestled within him, provided a continuous surge of pleasure, the tantalizing rubbing sparking a slow, sensual hardening of his own length.
Emboldened by this, Shakran's movements became more confident, his shaft stirring with renewed vigor. Beneath him, Spittor broached no remark or challenge at his pace, but Shakran could feel the subtle shifts in his lover's body. The firmness of his nubs, as well as the tantalizing hardness welling within the bulbous base of his cock, bespoke of how much he could endure before pleasure swept him off his feet.
He did not wish for it. Not yet. Not without getting his due comeuppance.
As he continued to ride Spittor, Shakran's shaft responded to the alluring rhythm of their union at its own pace. He relished the pulse of his own need coordinating with the throbs of Spittor within him, a physical manifestation of the pleasure coursing through their intertwined bodies. His shaft grew with every pulse and every moan and whimper, each marking a step closer to the peak of their shared pleasure.
Sensing that his partner's patience teetered on the very edge according to the shuddering pulses throbbing through his increasingly firmer knot, Shakran's movements grew more confident, the steady tempo aiding in his rising pleasure. His shaft, now fully hard, took the helm in maintaining Spittor's fantasy of being pleasured. It did not matter to the lizard that he traded slit for a cock dance; feeling his bottom spines stroke and caress Shakran's erection made for a delectable and erotic dance.
"You like this, don't you?" The smug shark gyrated his hips, alternating the angles from which his hands-free cock tangled and intertwined with Spittor's.
And that wasn't all.
Every now and then, he would tease the panting lizard with a few select dabs at the leftover space at the back of his vent, reminding him of where his true allegiance lied.
Not in cock wrestling, but in penetration.
A flush of impending release began to spread through Shakran's body, his movements growing more frantic in the dance of shared pleasure. The firmness of his cock nubs hinted at his lessening control, the peak of his ecstasy almost within reach. In an instinctual response, one of his previously idle hands dipped low, slickening it with the combined evidence of their arousal for lubricant.
His fingers closed around his throbbing shaft, each stroke accompanied by increasingly sharper gasps. The flowing motion was a tantalizing juxtaposition against Spittor's steady thrusts spearing at that pocket of space reserved for him, creating a symphony of muffled moans and groaning growls.
"Heh...seems you're ready to quit," Spittor sneered at his partner's lack of tact. He quite enjoyed seeing Shakran get off hands-free, but in this case, watching him stroke that fully-formed girth of shark meat made for quite the erotic sight.
He was so close now. Spittor witnessed it in the flaring up of his cock numbs, in the agitated pulses rushing through his length. Left with only a few seconds of lucidity, Shakran redirected his partner's cock tip to the welcoming pocket at the base of his vent, forcing Spittor's sensitive head in there for an extra dose of barbed, surreal tightness.
Shakran didn't even have time to moan or scrunch his face. That last thrust of Spittor invading the last vestiges of his vent hit him like a crashing wave, every fiber of his being aflame with all-consuming pleasure. His choked gasps and briny musk filled the room as pleasure finally overcame him, his stroking hand hard at work in amplifying the effects of his explosive orgasm.
The shark's climax was a supernova of sensation, an explosive release that had him rolling his eyes into the back of his skull from its sheer potency. His seed spurted and burst forth, thick ropes of it painting Spittor's chest and arms, forcing his head to swerve to the side to avoid getting it in his eyes or mouth. The smell was more distinctive than ever, salty and musky, an aroma as potent as it came.
His slit contracted and relaxed in quick succession as the shark squeezed and pulled on his member, augmenting those repeated pulses of utter bliss radiating from his core. Lances of weaker yet still abundant seed continued to dribble down Spittor's lower belly and thighs as his breath came in ragged gasps, the entirety of his body shuddering with the force of his climax.
As the waves of pleasure gradually receded, Shakran was left panting and sated, a blissful grin etched on his face. Spittor's form beneath him, now adorned with his release, lay still in utter awe. It made for a spectacular show, sure, but it did not quite settle his own still hard, still throbbing problem.
He had an idea, however. Given how much Shakran had given him, it felt like a terrible waste to keep all that seed stuck to his scales, idle and uncaring.
"Rest those weary haunches," Spittor playfully slapped his partner's butt as he shifted from under him, easing him down where Spittor used to be. With a devious grin, the lizard collected and smeared the slick substance onto his needy shaft, each stroke reigniting the embers of desire within him. His crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light, their gaze drinking in the sight of his sated lover.
Exhaustion was etched into Shakran's features, a fulfilled smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Between labored breaths, he let out a teasing jest at Spittor's expense.
"Looks like I won this round," he panted, his hand languidly reaching for his own spent spire. "You can go wash. Looks like you need it."
"I'll go, sure. After I have my way with you," Spittor growled lasciviously, his competitive nature flaring up at Shakran's words.
Taking control of the situation, Spittor moved to straddle Shakran, his hardened shaft rubbing against Shakran's own. The friction drew a groan from his lips, his hips grinding down in a sluggish but insistent thrusting motion.
"C--careful, I'm quite ssssensitive!"
Spittor knew better than to pay heed to the moaning femboy. His thrusts grew more determined, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through both of their bodies. The sensation of Shakran's shrinking cock slowly being eased back into its home was intoxicating, a shared pleasure that drove Spittor closer to the edge.
With a firm push against Shakran's spent member, Spittor guided himself back into the welcoming warmth of Shakran's vent. His shaft slid home with ease, the remaining slickness of Shakran's bubbly release aiding in this endeavor. The sensation of being engulfed once again within that haven of drenched warmth almost triggered his climax right there and then, the deep wave of delight surging through him nigh unstoppable.
Shakran's tongue curled against the roof of his mouth, the intrusion shocking his senses in equal manner despite his previous climax. His body arched and bucked beneath Spittor's, encouraging his lover to hilt himself as deep into him as possible.
Spittor's hips, however, retained their steady sway, each thrust deliberate in pacing out his climax. The intimate friction of spent cock against hard one was intoxicating, his cock's features flaring up with each slide inside Shakran.
In the wake of their first round of passion, Spittor took stock of Shakran's satiated form beneath him. The larger male's erection had softened, leaving Spittor the freedom to truly indulge in the temptation of Shakran's vent. He had so many things in mind on how to approach this; on how to best surprise his partner.
But he was too horny, and he was impatient, and more than anything, he craved to cum at last!
Wet, salacious, squelching noises punctuated each of Spittor's domineering thrusts, each of those steadfast plunges into Shakran's quivering vent flaring up the scent of their mingled musk. Spittor breathed it in deep, letting it wrap around his mind and senses. Shakran had never smelled so harsh and needy, and that only served in stoking Spittor's desire to pound him all the harder for it.
The poor, overstimulated shark writhed in the throes of maddening delight. Whimpers and moans slipped from his contorted lips, his eyes unable to remain open against the overpowering deluge of stimulation that Spittor's ministrations inflicted upon him. In order to secure his prey, Spittor grabbed both of Shakran's shoulder, his sneering snout inches from that moany little snout.
"I'm not done with you yet, Shak," he hissed into his ear amidst the cacophony of wet slit-on-slit slaps. "You....grrh....asked for it...."
Spittor's movements lost their tact, giving in to the frenzied urgency of working himself up to his peak. His hips moved at a blistering pace, the frantic rhythm a desperate chase for the precipice of pleasure that loomed just within reach.
His member throbbed within Shakran's tight, clasping insides, the spines dotting the underside of his girth gently scrapping along the fleshy walls for a heightened dose of stimulation. Spittor's breaths came in ragged gasps, the intensity of the pleasure coursing through him becoming almost too much to bear.
With one final, desperate, almost uncoordinated thrust, Spittor pushed himself in as deep as he could within Shakran's vent, hugging him tight during those last few moments of lucidity. His muscles never felt so tight, nor had his cock burned quite as bright as it did now. A molten ocean of unbridled passion swelled within his knot, its widening girth stretching Shakran to the very limits of his sanity.
Spittor's world narrowed down to the unbearable tightness of Shakran's vent; to the small cock his tip forcefully pressed against, the crown of spines flared to its peak. Shakran's body stilled beneath him, paralyzed by the instinctive ecstasy of being filled so thoroughly by a cock he grew to love.
With no more headroom to withhold his climax, Spittor broke loose inside his lover, an explosion of euphoria swarming every fiber of his being. Unrelenting spurts of pent-up seed rushed through his hardened length, each throb a jolt of pure ecstasy. Spittor surrendered to their whims wholly, letting them ravage his being as his essence speared into the depths of Shakran's slit, pelting his dormant member with everything he had.
His member jerked, twitched and tensed against Shakran's oppressive walls, each spasm a reflection of the intensity of his climax. His knot, once a firm bulge at his base, swelled to an unyielding mass, tying him securely to Shakran. The firm hold ensured no drop of his seed fled Shakran's lips, no matter how full he'd pump the shark. Despite the firmness of his knot, instinctual thrusts still sent Spittor's hips surging against Shakran's limp, submissive form, the jerky motions bringing forth fresh waves of molten delight.
The onslaught of pleasure was breathless and unyielding, a whirlwind of all-consuming sensations. Spittor's head swam, teetering on the edge of coherence, each pulse of pleasure surging through his rock-hard cock a step closer to the precipice. His breath hissed through gritted teeth, coming out in ragged bursts intermingled with his faltering spurts.
As his climax waned, the powerful throbs dominating Spittor's length dwindled into a gentle ebb. The heated tightness of his knot began to die down, instilling gentle spasms and jolts of pleasure through that highly sensitive part of his body. His seed, once a gushing stream, slowed to a lazy trickle, the remaining drops continuing to pool within Shakran's already overflowing vent. The weight of his spent passion was a comforting pressure within Shakran; a balm to his undeniably sore insides after all this ramming.
Exhaustion began to overtake the previously energetic lizard, a welcome reprieve from the sensory overload. His body, no longer capable of supporting itself, slumped against Shakran. Heavy pants gushed out of his half-opened maw, caressing Shakran's equally enchanted expression. His eyelids felt heavy, the world spinning with a post-orgasmic dizziness that echoed the rhythm of their shared passion.
After this world-shattering climax, Spittor lingered atop Shakran. Their bodies lay tangled in a mess of limbs and damp sheets and panted gasps, none daring to twitch as much as a finger.
"Did you expect the night to go this way, Shak?" Spittor cracked half an eye open, a teasing note in his voice. His body, still flush with the afterglow of pleasure, rested comfortably atop the larger male.
In response, Shakran could only huff out a ragged breath, too spent to formulate a proper retort. The lack of a snappy comeback only made Spittor's heart warm further, his lips curving into a satisfied grin.
That was all the praise he needed.
As the minutes ticked by, Spittor slowly realized that they had overlooked an essential part of their nighttime routine. A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he gently pulled himself free from Shakran, uncorking the plug that kept the outcome of their passion contained. Without Spittor's cock to fill Shakran, a rush of their combined fluids gushed forth, the slick essence trickling down Shakran's thighs and staining the sheets below.
"Seems like we forgot something, love," Spittor quipped, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. The sight of their fluids marking Shakran, coupled with the confused look on his face, made for quite the endearing scene. "We can't end the day without a proper shower, can we now?"
"Grrh...you and your showers..." Shakran moaned, unable to bring himself to leave that thoroughly destroyed bed. "I'm more concerned with where the fuck do we sleep now."
A towel hit his face shortly after that.
"Good point. Do your best," Spittor said with an encouraging wink as he made his way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of lovemaking fluids to mark the path he took in case Shakran changed his mind.
***The End***
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