He didn’t mean to.
He hadn’t even realized how hard he was, how much he ached. But the second his palm slid over the length of his cock, slicking over the head with the smear of pre-cum already there, a bolt of sensation shot through him so intense it nearly made his knees buckle.
He stroked once. Then again.
Fuck.
It was too much.
The taste of Thane. The sounds he was making. The way his body trembled under Riven’s mouth. The trust in every muscle he’d surrendered.
Riven kept licking, moaning into the heat of him, even as his hand moved on his cock, slow and hungry. He tried to resist—tried to focus only on Thane—but it was like denying gravity. He needed this, needed him, needed everything.
His grip tightened. His mouth moved faster. And above him, Thane looked wrecked—eyes half-lidded, head thrown back, the muscles in his stomach twitching with every flick of Riven’s tongue.
“Fucking—gods,” Thane gasped, his voice little more than a breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Riven grinned into him.
That was the plan.
Riven’s tongue moved in slow, relentless circles before he slid back up to Thane’s balls, licking along the sensitive seam before taking one gently into his mouth. He suckled, soft and wet, then switched to the other, letting his tongue swirl and tease.
Thane’s hips flexed under him, hands bunching the sheets at his sides, breaths coming faster now—hitched and ragged.
“Riven…” he murmured, half-wrecked.
Riven looked up at him, lips slick with spit, eyes gleaming with a mix of hunger and mischief. “Yeah?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
He didn’t wait for an answer. He licked his way back down, slower this time, more deliberate, until he was pressed right against Thane’s entrance again, kissing it, licking it, letting the vibrations of his groan sink into him.
His fingers drifted down, slick with spit. He circled Thane’s rim with one, letting it press just a little—not enough to breach, just enough to tease.
Thane hissed, but didn’t stop him.
Encouraged, Riven pressed more firmly, letting his finger sink in with patient pressure, watching Thane’s face as he worked him open. When Thane let out a low, guttural grunt, Riven stilled.
“Should I stop?” he asked, voice gentle but rough with arousal. “Tell me now.”
Thane’s eyes were nearly black with lust. He didn’t speak—he growled, a deep, affirmative sound—and spread his legs wider in answer.
Riven let out a breath in awe and pushed in deeper, working Thane open with reverent care. His other hand reached up, wrapping around Thane’s cock and gently tugging it down toward his mouth. He kissed the flushed head before parting his lips and sinking down.
The taste of him was electric—salt and skin and power. Riven moaned around him, the vibration making Thane buck beneath him, but Riven held firm, taking him deep and slow while his fingers began to move.
He kept the rhythm deliberate, a dual assault: sucking Thane’s cock in long, steady drags while his fingers curled and thrust inside him. The stretch made Thane shudder, made him groan low and dark like it was being pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.
Thane’s hand came to Riven’s hair, not to guide or stop him, just to touch, to feel. His fingers clenched in the strands as his hips jerked involuntarily, held back only by the strength of Riven’s hands pinning him.
“Fuck—” Thane gasped, voice hoarse. “That mouth—those fingers—gods, Riven—”
Riven swallowed him deeper in answer, hollowing his cheeks, working him as he pushed a second finger in beside the first, scissoring them gently, stretching him. The tight heat ofThane around his fingers, the weight of his cock on his tongue, the way the elf trembled for him—it was overwhelming.
But Riven didn’t stop.
He devoured.
If it was the only time, he was going to make it count.
