Page 44 of Sky and the Grumpy Troll

“Fuck.” His eyes were wide, pupils blown. “Fuck, you’re big. Oh fuck, I’ve never taken anything this big.”

“We can stop—”

“Don’t you dare.” He sank lower, and lower, and I watched my cock disappear into his body. The sight of it combined with the sensation of it made my vision blur. He bottomed out with a gasp that punched the air out of both of us, and he sat there, fully seated, his palms flat on my chest, breathing hard.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, that’s — that’s a lot.”

“Are you—”

“I’m incredible. Give me a second.” He shifted his hips in a small circle, adjusting, and I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted copper because the sensation of him moving around me was exquisite, and I was not going to come in the first thirty seconds like a schoolboy.

Then he reached forward and gripped both of my horns.

His thumbs found the trolgar points with a precision that told me he had memorized the exact location, and he pressed in, and the world inverted.

I had written about this: fourteen novels, dozens of love scenes, pages of trolgar ecstasy rendered with what I had believed was sensitivity and insight. I had described the ache of the gland stimulated during penetration, the emotional flood, the merging of physical and psychic pleasure into something transcendent. I had written it beautifully. I had written it with feeling and care. I had not understood the raw sensuality of the act.

The trolgar opened like a door blown off its hinges. Sky’s body gripped my cock, and the wet heat and pressure of him braided together with the trolgar’s emotional frequency, and the combination was a third thing altogether, a thing I had no vocabulary for because I had only ever imagined it. The pleasure was not in my cock or in my horns but in the wiring between them, a circuit that blazed through every nerve in my body until I could not tell which sensation was which, only that all of them were Sky.

I felt the stretch of me inside him at the same time that I felt his tightness around my cock. I felt every fucking thing, and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would fear an ecstasy so pure.

I shouted. The sound scattered birds from the canopy.

“There it is,” Sky said, and his grin was wild and delighted and he began to move. “Fuck, you look mind blown; I wish I could feel what you’re feeling.”

I wanted him to, was desperate to share this with him, but I was too far gone to do anything but rut up into him, chasing the sensation of our joining. He folded down over me and I strained up to meet him. His mouth slammed into mine, and he sucked on my tongue, drinking down my shouts of pleasure.

I fought for control, and the only thing holding me back was… oh fuck.

“The trolgar,” I choked, thrashing up into him.

“The trolgar what?” He moved, bouncing against my wild rutting, whimpering as I hit just the right spot.

“It won’t let me come until you do. Not while your hands are on it, not while the connection is open,” I whined. “I need to come, Sky. Oh fuck, please.”

A wicked grin slipped across his lips. “Oh, that’s fucking perfect.”

He rode me with his hands on my horns, thumbs grinding into the trolgar points. Every time he lifted his hips and dropped back down, the clench of his body around my cock and the pulse of the trolgar crashed through me, feeding each other, amplifying, building into something I could not control or contain. I was making sounds I did not recognize as mine. My hips were driving upward to meet him, my bound hands straining against the cord, every muscle in my body taut and shaking.

He straightened, releasing my horns to ride me upright, moaning now, every bounce making his eyes roll back. The moment his hands left my horns, the connection dimmed, and the peak receded just far enough that I did not spill on the very next stroke.

“Good boy.” His own cock was hard and bouncing against my stomach as he rode me, and I wanted to touch it, wanted to wrap my hand around him, but my wrists were tied. All I could do was thrust up into him and take what he gave me. “That’s it. Fuck, you feel so good inside me. Your big gorgeous cock filling me up — look at you, Moerrven, you’re losing it, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The word ripped out of me. “Yes, I am. Sky, I cannot. The trolgar, it is — I have never—”

“Better than your books?”

“I did not. I could not have known—”

He folded down to catch my horns again, slammed his hips down, and twisted his thumbs into the trolgar points simultaneously, and I arched off the ground so hard I nearly threw him.

He laughed, breathless and exhilarated, and rode the buck, adjusting his grip on my horns. I understood in that moment that this small human had absolute command of my body, that I would let him do anything at all, because the sensation of being fucked and trolgar-claimed at the same time was rewriting everything I thought I knew about pleasure.

“I want you to come inside me,” Sky said. He was grinding down on me now, deep and slow, his cock leaking against my stomach. “I want to feel you fill me up. Can you be a good boy and come for me? Oh fuck, your cock is going to make me come so hard, baby.”

He released one horn, still holding the other, jerking himself with frantic speed, and I felt the intensity of each stroke as I did my best to rut up into him. His body clenched around me as he came, squeezing me so hard I gasped.

I could not have stopped if I had wanted to. The orgasm built from the base of my horns and the base of my cock simultaneously, met somewhere behind my sternum, and detonated. I came with a roar that I am certain was heard in the next county, my hips slamming upward, my cock pulsing inside him, and the trolgar flared so hot that tears streamed down my face and I did not care, could not care, because the pleasure was so vast it had consumed everything else.