Page 90 of Nine-Tenths

I play my hand over Dav's bare chest. He winces a bit as my fingers brush his abused nipples. Not feeling contrite exactly, but sorry that they hurt, I lean up to mouth apologetic kisses over both. Dav groans and arches his back, pressing into the sensation, hands scrabbling at the carpet as if he’s still afraid to touch me. Afraid to hold me close, to covet and tokeepme, the way I've already told him he can.

Well, that won't do.

I have no illusions that I am anywhere near strong enough to manhandle Dav, but he reads my intent well enough from thetense and flex of my arms, and lets me flip us over. I shove myself into vee of his thighs as best I can with the fabric between us, grab his hands, and press them firmly to the meat of my ass. His talons prick deliciously, but don’t break skin.

"Hold on," I warn him, and then make a filthy show and get my hand as wet as possible with my tongue.

"Annwyl dduw," he groans, a verbal keysmash of a sound, pupils growing round and consuming the gold of his iris as he stares up at me. The look on his face is... it's worshipful, captivated, besotted, it's...

It's toomuch.

I look away, my own face burning, his expression somehow far more intimate than the fact that we're both nude from the knees up with our cocks out.

My mouth goes dry, tongue sticking to the roof, throat clicking when I try to swallow enough to produce spit to say something about the way he’s looking at me. I croak, very unsexily, and decide instead to apply myself to another mode of responding instead.

I take both of us in my wet hand, both relieved and a little shamed at my own emotional cowardice when that look on Dav’s face shatters, his eyes roll back, and he thunks his head back against the floor. The long, pale column of his throat is far too tempting, so I give in and curl down to suck a love-bite into the peachy flesh. If I have to wear his token, he can damn well wear mine right back.

Dav doesn’t even wait for me to start stroking before he’s lifting his hips, rolling into the hot wet grip around us, kneading my ass like a kitten and making those sweet little dragony noises I love so much.

The rumble of his happiness vibrates through his chest, sinking deep into my bones in all the places where we’re touching. Which is a lot of places.

"Colin, Colin!" he moans around the purrs. "Fy nhrysor,please."

I do as he begs and speed up my pulls, adding a little thumb flick to his dewy slit with every upstroke. He shivers and shakes, holding himself back, and I am struck with the revelation that this powerful and handsomecreature is laying back because Iwanthim to. That he’s letting me touch him,fuckhim with my fist, becauseIdesire it.

He is obeying me. He is submissive tome.Not because I’m demanding it of him, not because I’mimposingit on him like all the other dragons who think they can control him through fear and terror, but because he wants topleaseme.

Me.

A funny-eared, overly-anxious, directionless dreamer likeme.

That’s enough to tip me over the edge.

The hot splash of my spend sliding between my fingers and all over his velvety length sends him straight over after me.

It takes a few long, panting, wonderful moments for me to come back to myself. I’m laying smooshed against his shoulder, our softening pricks and my messy hand trapped between our warm bellies. Dav is nuzzling at the hair behind my ear like an affectionate kitten.

"I’m gonna get sticky soon. Don’t you usually have a hanky somewhere in that posh outfit of yours?"

"No. Pocket squares are apparently out of fashion." Dav frowns, that moue of distaste putting a furrow between his eyebrows. "And I have been informed that my usual mode of dress is perhaps a bit flam—"

"I love it," I interrupt, already seeing that I’m going to have to spend some time undoing whatever fucking bullshit has been shoved at him since he was taken away from me. "I love your colour coordinating hankies, and your stupid fucking cartoon socks, and how you make a suit that should only look good ona runway look even better, because it’s on you. You have the right to dress as joyfully as you want, and fuck whoever told you otherwise."

Dav’s sweaty face flushes an adorable pink as he buries it shyly between my clavicles.

"No lube," I chuckle, to distract him from whatever turmoil is rolling through that pretty head of his. "And now no hanky. What are we supposed to clean up with?"

"Allow me," Dav whispers, his voice a deep growl. He pulls my hand up to his mouth.

Jesus Christ, that split tongue of his!

I will never get tired of it.

Once Dav has finished his indulgences, we hike our pants back up, but don’t make any move toward the rest. Dav seems too clingy right now to want to let me go, and to be fair, while the floor isn’t as comfortable now as it was in the throes of passion, I’m not in any hurry to abandon it for the world outside just yet.

"So now what?" I venture, running my hand through his sparse chest hair, and grimacing at the gray smear of book-dust clinging to the cooled sweat there.

The sun had well and truly set, and the magic of the pooling sunlight had vanished, leaving the room bathed in a night-cool hush.

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