Page 134 of Cosmic Soul

I kissed his neck. “You know I don’t top. I like to be fucked, hard, but this body will not take it right now. I love to be tied up. And I love being spanked, or well, I assume I still do. That’s the extent of impact play I like, though. I don’t mind biting or nipping, but no blood. You can touch me whenever or wherever you want, even in front of people, especially in front of people. I love it when you touch me, but sometimes it overloads me, so please be patient. I love fucking when I know people can possibly see me, but I don’t share. I don’t want anyone else to fuck me or for you to fuck anyone else.”

“I’m all for hard fucking, but you need to heal first,” he said. “And of course, we will not fuck anyone else. We’re mates.”

I’d forgotten; drakcol didn’t do polyamory, sharing, or consensual cheating. They had nothing against any of it, but they mated once. That, and they were possessive, which suited me fine.

“What do you like?” I asked.

“You.”

I grinned. “Seriously?”

He said, “I don’t mind tying you up, but I have no interest in being tied up. I would enjoy spanking you, but it’s not something I enjoy for myself. I like having sex in the tub, so eventually, I would like to try it with you. I do enjoy light pain.”

I sharply tugged on the ring in his cock, and Fyn moaned, a bead of pre-cum sliding down his shaft. “You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“I don’t enjoy tasting my seed, but I am more than happy to drink yours.”

So no cum swapping. I could live with that. I paused. Wait a fucking second. “You’ve tasted yourself in front of me, Fyn.”

His eyes skirted to the side, hiding from me, as he commented, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. You couldn’t taste me then.”

I swallowed a sigh. Permissions were a drakcol thing and he’d crossed one of his limits. I realized something as I stared at my mate—he struggled to put himself first, especially if he thought I would be disappointed. I didn’t know if it was him, his depression, or something else entirely, but Fyn had a hard time saying what he needed, like he wasn’t worthy of anything.

“I wouldn’t have been mad, Sunshine. I don’t like you doing things that upset you.”

“I understand,” he said.

I very much doubted that, but this wasn’t something that I could fix with a few pretty words. This was going to take time, and we had as much as we wanted. And I would wait patiently. By his own words, Fyn didn’t like to speak about his depression, though he had nothing to be ashamed of. One day, though, I trusted he would feel comfortable enough to talk to me, and I would be here, arms open. Until then, I would meet my mate where he was at, showing him just how much I loved him, and how valuable he was.

I asked, “Anything else?”

“I am utterly desperate to fuck you among my flowers right now.”

“Then fuck me, so everyone can see who I belong to.”

His eyes darkened, and more pre-cum slid down his shaft. I stood, with his help, and lifted my arms. His lips quirked, but he complied, slowly undressing me. He took his time, fingers dragging over my scales as his possessive eyes roved over me.

I took his hand, kissing his knuckles. Fyn snagged the blanket and some pillows. He shook his head when I held up a container of lube, grinning, but he took it from me. Fyn didn’t fight me as I led him to the greenhouse, both of us naked. It was dark outside and people were unlikely to see us, but the thought of someone catching us butt-naked, cocks hard, in the garden made my dick harder than ever. I slowed my steps to a snail’s pace, almost hoping someone would.

We stepped into his greenhouse that would offer us a semblance of privacy, and I moved to kiss him, bending slightly, and captured his mouth. A groan broke free at the contact. His tongue swiped at my lips, and I opened for him, both of us too impatient to drag this out. His burning hot tongue wrapped around mine, and I moaned at the scratch of his scales.

His hands slid down my sides, teasing where the scent glands were, before gripping my ass, kneading and separating my cheeks. One of his hands pulled back, and he slapped the fatty part of my ass, making me jolt from the sting.

“Like that?” Fyn asked.

“Harder.”

He smacked me again, much harder, and I growled, cock twitching in need, before he went back to kneading my cheeks. Fyn attacked my mouth, rubbing his cock on my thigh, as he occasionally spanked me. My thoughts whirled, arousal clouding me.

My tail lashed suddenly, smacking into the metal leg of one of the tables with Fyn’s many plants. I jerked back, breath jagged.

“We don’t have to, Mate.”

“It’s not that.” It was the fucking table. My cock was so hard, it hurt. I needed relief. I needed him.

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