Jon didn’t even seem to notice the minor battle Barion had with the Timelord—and didn’t get to see his glorious victory either, which was a shame—because he was scratching his fingernails over Barion’s back in his attempt to get their bodies as close together as possible. Barion lowered his upper body until scales met skin again, making them both shudder. They started kissing anew, Jon undulating in a way that had Barion reaching down to pinch the base of his cock or it would have all been over that moment. When he was sure he wouldn’t shoot his load immediately and drench Jon in cum, he started tracing his fingers over the zombie’s skin, feeling the shudders that went through his body that seemed to race directly into his own cock. Fuck, if simply touching Jon felt this good, what would it be like to be inside him? Barion moaned at the thought.
Jon was pushing against his chest, urging him up.
“Can’t wait. Need you now.” He was panting.
“Need to prepare you first.” The two braincells still functioning in his brain forced him to say that. No way would he hurt his friend.
“Lube’s in the drawer.” Jon wiggled under him to get to said drawer, rubbing his thighs against Barion’s cock, which in turn made him leak onto Jon like a broken faucet.
“There you are!” With a triumphant scream, Jon held up a bottle with lube. Barion recognized it as the same brand they had bought together shortly after they had started with their Iron Bull jerk-off sessions. He snatched it from Jon’s hands with an impatient growl. The tugging at his back told him his wings were trying to unfurl and that he was now fully demon. They would need the entire bottle to get Jon ready for his cock in this state.
Barion caught Jon staring at his fully engorged cock, the silver markings on it standing out in all their glory. The zombie didn’t seem to be intimidated. If anything, he looked hungry. Barion wasn’t sure if this was Jon’s inexperience saving him from freaking out or if the zombie was secretly a size queen. Either way, Barion was glad his lover wasn’t running for the hills when confronted with all he had to offer.
In an attempt to calm himself as well as the scorching situation down a bit, Barion took his time to position Jon more in the middle of the bed, where they would have more room to move. The zombie helped as well as he could, lifting his bottom and placing it on the mattress a few inches closer to the center, keeping this half-wiggle up until they both were satisfied with his placement. Barion grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and Karen Gillan seemed to be approving of what he was doing—he’d always thought she was the best companion the doctor ever had—and shoved it under Jon’s ass. Then he parted the beautiful, perfect globes and bent down to have a taste. Again he was swamped by the taste of sun and cream and blackberries, his senses going into overload, making it almost impossible to think straight.
“Want to draw this out,” Barion gasped against Jon’s hole, which earned him a moan from the zombie. He lifted his head. “But I can’t. You’re too delicious.”
Jon held the opened bottle of lube out to him. “We can do long and slow another time. Need you now.” A little surprised, Barion realized he loved it when Jon got all bossy with him.
With trembling fingers, Barion took the lube and squeezed a generous amount onto Jon’s hole. At least that had been the plan. He wasn’t as in control of his strength as usual and the plastic made a creaking sound, lube pouring out of the cracks and over Barion’s fist.
“Oops.” Barion stared at his hand, not sure what had happened. A huge glob of translucent gel slowly morphed into a pear-shaped drop at his wrist. It extended downward in slow motion, giving Barion and Jon all the time in the world to react. All they did was stare transfixed at the damn thing until it pulled anchor from Barion’s wrist and descended onto Jon’s hip with a sound like a large insect crashing against a windshield in full flight. They both winced.
Then Jon laughed—a full belly laugh that dialed the sexual tension down several notches, which was good, because Barion had been too close to losing control, case in point, the smashed lube bottle. He laughed with Jon, because it was funny, the way the lube was dripping down his fist. More drops were joining their brother in his entrepreneurial ways onto Jon’s thighs, his hips, his ass, the mattress.
After a few minutes of almost-hysterical giggling, Barion felt he had himself under control again. The almost-painful swelling of his cock had receded a bit, and the urge to shoot his load right now because otherwise he would implode had lowered to an insistent hum he could ignore for the moment. Carefully he put the broken bottle away, placing it on the nightstand in a way he hoped would keep most of the remaining lube inside, then he started to massage the generous amounts of lube on his hands into Jon’s hole, marveling how the soft flesh yielded to his huge fingers.
Barion tried to retain more of his human form and was relieved when his fingers got a little smaller. He didn’t want to overwhelm Jon. Though the way his lover was moaning under him, he didn’t think Jon had registered the change in size.
The wrinkled flesh was getting softer with each gentle press Barion administered and soon he was able to slip his first finger in to the hilt. Jon lifted his hips, welcoming Barion in a way that had his balls tingling and his cock hardening back to painful. His inner fire flared, and Barion had to concentrate hard to not let it out. Preparing Jon was so erotic that he knew he could come from the sight of his fingers gliding in and out of Jon’s hole alone.
Barion had three of them inside by now, the fourth going in on the next stroke with ease. His zombie was pushing against the fingers, fucking himself with jerking motions while he dug his hands into the sheets, bunching them up until they were a ball of cotton cloth. Jon was as turned on as Barion, and somehow that knowledge made it all even better. Barion started scissoring his fingers, moving them around to stretch his lover enough for his cock. Jon’s own shaft was bopping up and down, spraying drops of pre-cum everywhere, the scent driving Barion wild. He withdrew his fingers then gathered part of the excess lube from Jon’s legs and belly to get his cock all wet. When his shaft was glistening from the stuff, he smeared some more onto Jon’s hole before he aligned the tip with his entrance. Jon’s breath hitched audibly, his gaze met that of Barion, all molten want and absolute trust.
“I’ve got you,” Barion promised and pressed in. There was a short moment of resistance, the girth of his cock bigger than his fingers, but then Jon exhaled and Barion sank into a tightness so heavenly that he knew instantly he never wanted to leave. He had to grit his teeth to pace his thrust, slowly probing deeper, withdrawing, moving forward again, repeating the motion until he was snuggling his balls up with the curve of Jon’s ass. They both moaned when he bottomed out. Jon lifted his face, silently asking for a kiss and Barion was more than happy to give his lover everything he wanted. He enjoyed the heat surrounding his cock while his taste buds got another generous helping of Jon’s unique taste.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jon started moving his hips, urging Barion to get things going. Barion was only too happy to comply. He withdrew about halfway, sank down again, watching the pleasure on Jon’s face like it was the most fascinating thing in the world…which it was. They danced together like that for a while, their pace steadily increasing until Barion was slamming into Jon like he had something to prove. He could feel Jon getting close to orgasm, the zombie working his cock frantically. Barion matched his movements, feeling his own release building like a tidal wave.
When it crashed, Barion was lost. The combination of Jon’s scent, his beautiful body under Barion, welcoming his demonic form so perfectly, his low moans and drawn-out groans, it all was too much. Something inside Barion’s brain fizzled out—later he would argue it was his common sense, which would make Dre break out in peals of laughter—and with it died any and all inhibitions Barion might have still had. He lowered his head and acted purely on instinct, the demon taking charge. Jon was his, his alone, and he would show it to the whole world. His fangs dropped, and his gaze locked on Jon’s. The zombie’s eyes were hazy, as if he were in a trance. It didn’t stop him from exposing his neck to Barion, the submissive gesture triggering the most primal part of the demon. He sank his fangs into the junction of Jon’s neck and shoulder, pumping his venom into his lover’s veins the same time his cum flooded his ass. Jon screamed in utter bliss, his ass clenching around Barion’s shaft, milking him hard while his own seed spurted between their bodies, painting their bellies in splashes of white.
On and on it went, a circle of pure bliss, until Jon’s cries were no longer ecstatic. They were full of pain now, and the moment Barion realized what was happening, what he had done, he didn’t know if he should panic, rejoice or kick himself for being so inconsiderate and out of control as to bite his sex-partner. He decided to go for joy, mixed with a heavy dose of guilt when Jon started writhing in agony on the mattress.
Now that it was happening, Barion wasn’t surprised to realize that Jon was his mate. It wasn’t this big light bulb moment some cartoon characters had, more like a very content of course, what did I think would happen? They fit so perfectly, who else could it have been? The only thing that annoyed him was how blind he had been to the possibility. Then again, it was perhaps for better. Getting to know Jon as a friend without all the implications of probable matehood hanging over them was preferable to freaking out every time they met. And freaked out he would have, because Barion was demon enough to admit his failings.
Knowing he could do nothing to soothe his mate’s pain, yet wanting to, he pulled him into his arms and held him through the spasms while his body adjusted to being a demon’s mate.
Jon was confused. One moment he’d been flying so high that he thought he could touch the sky, and the next he’d been dragged into a hell of pure pain and suffering. Now he was standing on a dark plain with the ghostly outlines of a city in the distance, the corpses of long-dead trees providing a suitable background to the overall gloominess of wherever he was.
“I’m sorry. It’s just the way things are here.” The voice sounded amused and came from close to the ground. Jon turned around and found a black cock standing there. It had an impressive set of spores and the beak promised pain if the wearer were provoked.
“Who are you?” Jon asked, even though he had an inkling. The cock tilted his head to the side.
“You know me.” It sounded smug.
“You’re Papa Legba.”
“Smart boy.” The cock scratched the ground a bit with his left leg. If it was deliberate or just avian habit, Jon couldn’t tell and certainly wouldn’t ask. He doubted there were worms to be found here, though weren’t worms linked to corpses? Could a worm survive here? And if so, did that mean there were such things as zombie worms? Or were all worms magical? And how would they look? Not the usual pinkish orange hue they had on Earth, he was sure. Perhaps they were black worms. Yeah, that sounded about right, and Jon wasn’t sure if he was going crazy or if his brain was simply trying to protect him from whatever was happening at the moment.
“What am I doing here?” That was a much safer question than asking about potentially undead worms and avian habits and dead people, and also the one he was a lot more interested in.
