Thatbeasthad done this to him, he thought, furiously gritting his teeth together.It wasn’t enough to have a slave for fucking!It wasn’t enough to buy, enslave, and use him.No, that beast wanted…
This.
But what exactlywas‘this’?
Clove could not resist the horrible, visceral curiosity that rose up within him.
Shuddering with trepidation at what he might find, Clove slowly, gingerly slid his fingers down to explore.
He found that the ‘cave’ his cock had retreated into was not really cave-like at all.It was more like a tight, warm sheath, snugly enfolded around both head and shaft.Snugly enough, in fact, that it resisted his initial attempts to thwart it.
He pressed his fingertips to the entrance and persisted, trying to fish a way inside, hoping to peel it back.
Intent on his goal, he didn’t realize at first the change in feeling.
The cowl over his cock seemed to grow fuller, warmer.If it had not been dark, he would have noticed the skin of the sheath flushing, color deepening to a dark pink.
Clove pulled at it, feeling his cheeks warming with the effort, and it grew thicker and softer under his hand, the rigidity of his hidden shaft more obvious.He began to shudder.
He burrowed more urgently at the tip.Unaware that he was panting.Unaware that he was being watched.
All of a sudden, his fingertips slipped past the taut seal of the cowl, and he was inside.
He let out a high gasp.
With no recollection of his original intent, he sank his fingers greedily deep into the passage.He found it extremely tight—the outline of his fingers inside was easily visible—but slick enough to penetrate.It didn’t occur to him that the slickness was his own precum.
The tip of his cock bulged against his fingers.It was hard now, but still unmistakably smaller than it had been the night before.
Clove forgot that he had originally meant to free it.
Instead, he fucked the cowl vigorously with his fingers, panting raggedly.
Theinsideof the passage was deliciously sensitive and flexible—as Clove fingered, he found the sheath gradually yielding more and more, allowing him to pound it more roughly and with more fingers, especially as increasing precum made it sloppy.
The end came so quickly, he hadn’t time to prepare.
Pleasure crashed through him like a cliff collapsing into the sea, the onslaught so swift and brutal that he was left panting, rigid, aching.Head thrown back.Toes curled.He opened his mouth to cry out, but his throat seized, preventing him from making a sound.
The only other time he had ever felt like this had been last night, but the reality of those experiences was uncertain, surreal, and shrouded in a haze of chemical lust.
This was concrete reality.
What he felt wasreal.
Gasping for breath, he reclined on the rock behind him and kept pumping his fingers, prolonging the pleasure for as long as he could before its pulsing ripples gave way to quiet bliss.Cheek plastered to the rock’s cool surface, Clove closed his eyes and focused on catching his breath.
Slowly, so as not to reawaken the lust that had just consumed him, he withdrew his fingers from himself and held them up, cracking an eye open to examine them.
They were coated in a clear, glossy substance that stretched into strings when he parted his fingers in a V.
He couldn’t recall the last time his precum had been so clear, but rather than be concerned, he found himself gratified… then aroused.
Without thinking, he brought his fingers to his mouth and fed them between his lips.
Sweet.
A shiver ran through him, and with it a longing to taste himself again.
