“You will have many shirts,” he says. “But I understand.”
I laugh, blinking away the tears. He strokes my hair, brushing a strand away from my eyes. I unbutton my shirt, letting it fall open.
My breasts aren’t large enough to worry about strapping them down like a lot of girls. They jut out, free into the warm air, flushing hot under his burning, appreciative gaze.
“Treasure,” he whispers, raising his hands. Halfway to me he stops, looking away from my tits for the first time to meet my eyes. “Okay?”
I can’t hold back my grin as I grab his hands and pull them onto my chest. His scales are cool and smooth. Pleasure is a wave swamping over everything else.
Moments more and we’re wriggling out of our pants and moving into one another.
We press against each other, hands exploring, feeling, touching, kissing. Warm trails across skin. Mounting desire and need, but he moves with restraint, always holding back, as if he’s afraid to break me.
I don’t want his restraint. I arch up and into him, whispering his name, begging without shame.
“Take me.”
His growl shakes the air. He slips a hand between us cupping my delicate mound. No penetration, just holding, feeling my wetness.
He groans into my mouth. My entire body shivers then he slides one finger in and I gasp, thrusting my hips up, pushing him deeper.
He grunts, pulling his finger back then in deep again. His hips rock, dragging his cock up and down my thigh as his finger fills me over and over, then he adds a second one and I’m lost to instinct. Bucking and thrusting as he works magic.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I moan with each insertion.
I grab the shaft of his cock, only dimly aware of the infamous ridges that are the stuff of so much gossip between every human female I’ve ever met. He groans as I trail my fingers along the soft underside.
“Fuck me, gods take me now,” I groan.
He shifts, pulling his fingers out, and I hate the empty aching sensation. He positions himself between my legs. I grab his cock and guide it to the opening. He presses the head in, then holds, waiting.
“Yes,” I say, nodding, needing.
He moves slow. So. Fucking. Slow.
I try to dig my nails into his back, to pull him down, but his scales are smooth and slippery and his strength is more than I can overcome.
He continues to slide in slow. His large cock fills my pussy. Fuller. And fuller.
I gasp, clenching my eyes and teeth.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I pant in time with each miniscule progression of his filling me up.
A low, grumbling, continuous moan rattles from his chest. His tail slides between us, rubbing over my tits and it’s all I can do to not scream my pleasure.
The first ridge pushes in and I’m blinded by an overwhelm of sensation. Carried away from anything resembling rational thought. I thrust my hips up and he slides in fully. The intensity is overwhelming.
We move together, not awkward but inevitable, like two halves finally joining. Every stroke pushes me higher, every sound he makes deepens the fire in my chest. His scars press to my skin, marking me as surely as his body does.
“Mine,” he rasps again, voice breaking with the force of it.
“Yes,” I cry, nails scrabbling across his back. “Yours.”
The world shatters. I cry out, body seizing around him, every nerve lit with fire. He follows, roaring my name, his body locking tight against mine as if he’ll never let go.
When the echoes fade, we collapse together, tangled, gasping. His wings curl around me, sheltering. His hand cradles my head, his breath rough against my hair.
I close my eyes, heart still racing, but steady now in a different way. We survived. We fought. And now, bound together, we’ve claimed something bigger than survival.
