Ingram lifted his palm so he could look at his fingers buried again. The inside of her felt different than before, rougher and like he was being sucked deeper.
Since he’d loosened her further, he earned himself a surprised gasp when he slipped out a little and then shoved back in with his index finger joining the other two. It was tight, required a bit of pressure, but she’d easily given way – at least against his strength.
“T-too much!”
He didn’t think so.
He couldn’t scent blood, and she had accepted them. Could he work in another? He was having fun playing with her stretchy hole.
Just as he pulled back a little, she grabbed his hand. “You better not be about to shove a fourth in.”
“Fine,” he bit, pushing back in with just the three. “You are so warm inside here. Soft.” He rubbed the back of his thumb against her clit, and she twitched in his arms. “You feel like the inside of my seam.”
Well, not currently, as it was all pushed forward to stabilise his throbbing erection. But before, when he was soft and needed a place to be sheltered...
At his thoughts, his head jerked. His sight found his aching cock.
Currently, the nagging, mind-fuzzing desire in it was... comfort. It sought release, yes, but it also sought more wetness, more warmth; a place to shelter him while he blissfully thrust until he could drain his sacs of their seed-swollen pressure.
His sight darted to her cunt. Her warm, sweet, wet cunt fluttering her fragile heartbeat around his fingers.
Desire and need clung to his chest, digging its claws in as realisation dawned.
Ingram groaned as he wriggled his fingers inside her snug channel, realising he’d been playing exactly where he needed to be.
Her thighs clamped his hand once more to still him, her features twitching with a wince.
“Nhn. Sensitive,” she whimpered.
“Emerie.” He shuddered, removing his fingers and spreading her lips with two of them. He spread her entrance to peek inside her, to see for himself that she had a place for him. “Inside here. I want to bury my cock inside here.”
She immediately stiffened in his arms before rolling to her side so she could partially kneel while facing him.
“No, Ingram. You won’t fit.”
Sure, he could. She was stretchy, her little pussy showing him it was adaptable to size.
He wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer, almost forcing her legs around his hips. “Please. I will be gentle. I will go... slow.” When the heat of her folds pressed against the underside of his throbbing cock, he had to fight with himself not to quickly shove her on it. “I will not hurt you.”
Suddenly, her scent became suffocating in the most wonderful way.
He lifted his hand, inspecting where it was covered in both clear liquid and a creamy substance. An overwhelming need to taste it made his mouth flood with drool.
“I’m too swollen and tender for you to even try right now. You’re too big, too hard, too... excited.”
Ingram stopped listening the moment he licked his fingers. He was too busy trying to shove his entire hand into his maw so he could curl his tongue around it and steal every bit of her tangy liquid.
His sight blackened, closing, as he violently shuddered.
Had he known she tasted so good, he would have speared her with his tongue.
He gripped her arse, shoved himself against her, and rocked her as he thrust his hips. “Inside, Emerie.” What had she called it, the action? “I want to fuck. I want you to shelter me as I come.”
Would that ease how violently his seed was ripped from him? It often felt like he was about to release his very soul through his cock. If she comforted him through it with her snug inner walls, would it not feel so damning?
“Ingram,” she warned, but the panicked hint in it was what caused his sight to open to the darkest purple he’d ever seen.
She looked pale, nervous... afraid.
He whimpered in need, but released her to dig his extended claws into his thighs to settle himself. He didn’t want her to be scared of him, but he was shaking.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped. “Please... touch me.”
Her eyes crinkled with uncertainty, before her gaze darted to his claws embedded deep into his own flesh.
“I want to. I want to ease you, Ingram.” She didn’t reach for the agony jutting between them. “But you’re too excited right now for us to do it like this.”
Was it because of last time? Because he’d flipped her onto her back and thrust against her chest?
He wished this desirous emotion didn’t grip him so cruelly. He wanted to be calmer, for it to not eat at him the way it did. Did other Mavka have this problem, or was it only Ingram that suffered so?
He thought she was intending to abandon him in this pathetic state, until she soothed her hand against his sternum.
“Can I try something? Do you trust me?”
“Yes. Anything.”
Right now, he’d say or do whatever, so long as she freed him from this.
He almost grabbed her in panic when she lifted off him. Emerie kicked her shoes and pants off, rather than pulling them up, and darted to her bag tightly strapped over his torso. He watched her as she pulled some rope from it.
Then she went behind him. His skull followed her.
“Can I have your arms?”
Although he was uncomfortable with the idea of being bound, Ingram still placed them behind him. She strapped his wrists to their opposing elbows, coiling the enchanted rope around his forearms to lock them together. Unless he wanted to rip his arm from his shoulder, he wouldn’t be able to escape.
“Just... listen out for Demons, or that Duskwalker, okay?”
Fuck, he was supposed to listen to their surroundings with his body in this state? He could barely register anything past his lust-filled senses, hyper-focussed on her sounds, her scents, the sight of her.
By the time her hands encompassed the head of his cock, he was so pent up that he whimpered. Even he could tell he was engorged, like every second longer he waited was punishment.
“You, uh, wanted something warm and wet, right?” she purred, her tongue dabbing at the seam of her lips.
With the fact she was kneeling between his now-spread feet, he didn’t think it was her pussy she was referring to. Yet, a Mavka could hope.
Beginning to stroke just the first half of him, keeping away from his latching tentacles, Emerie leaned forward. Then she opened her mouth, poked her tongue forward, and ran it from the groove just below his head, all the way up and then back over the top.
His clawed toes curled at the intense sensation of her tongue gliding over him.
“You licked me,” he grated, letting out an exhale of pent-up breath.
“Mhm.” She nodded for emphasis, licking at her lips.
He also noticed that her tongue had collected seed by doing so, and that she willingly drank it down, tasted him.