He wrung his hands in the dim light of the hotel room. The bed was cool and stiff beneath him, spurring him to shift a little to try and get comfortable. It didn’t much work, of course, as the majority of his discomfort was psychological. He lifted his eyes to the woman who’d nearly finished disrobing, her satiny skin backlit by the orange neon light filtering in through the blinds. A rush of blood and quick swallow later, and he felt his body begin responding to the base biological imperative of his most primitive mind. His heart was hammering as he scanned her form once and again. Vids replayed in his mind, reminding him of all the things he could do to-
A socialized reflex interrupted him. He shouldn’t be wanting this. Shouldn’t have answered the ad, shouldn’t have come to the room; but here he was. No denying the facts anymore. He couldn’t even retreat to his self-reinforced excuse of ‘porn is porn’. It was starkly obvious now- the sight and proximity of her alone were about to get him out of his sheath. He’d shed his tunic around the same time she’d started undressing, but thanks to nerves hadn’t gotten as far as his pants yet. Those were about to be a problem.
He hadn’t even noticed that she was staring back at him silently until she spoke, concern evident in her dulcet voice.
He blinked a second, his eyes flickering up to her face. He was quite far from ‘okay.’ He could launch into a diatribe of the many reasons why none of this was ‘okay.’ It wasn’t remotely illegal to associate intimately with any consenting, sentient species one wanted, but the social stigma that had been ingrained in him his whole adolescence was undeniable. The impulse to gather his things and rush out the door was strong.
“Yeah,” he almost coughed hoarsely.
Not strong enough. He fumbled at the fastening of his pants as though to bolster his argument, and defy the voice of reason in his head. But his fingers faltered.
“You sure?” Her tone was soft, compassionate. She approached him slowly, reassuringly. She sank to the bed next to him, their thighs close but not quite touching. He could almost feel the heat of her skin. Or maybe he was imagining it from how bad he wanted to. It was so smooth, and even looked delicate. He wanted to know what it felt like, but he knew without trying he was currently incapable of moving his hands in her direction.
“Yeah,” he lied again. “I’ve just. You know. I’ve never…”
There was a small silence. Her mouth, her lips changed, turning upwards. A smile , he knew that much.
“I hear that a lot.”
He cleared his throat, finally remembering to breathe again. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, it makes sense if you think about it.”
He hadn’t until just this moment. It did help a little. “I guess so.”
“Well this isn’t my first go-round by a long shot. I can take the lead if you want.”
He couldn’t make himself move, so she was going to have to just that if this was going to happen at this point. Now normally a decent gentleman in your standard opposite-sex situation would take the initiative and please a lady first, but this was anything but a normal situation. He did somehow nod slightly, unconsciously, or it could have been a tremor. She moved her hand, resting it softly on the top of his thigh, apparently to gauge his reaction. And what a reaction. His muscles all tensed. The sudden sensation of a very familiar confining discomfort hit him, and his and turned into a fist around a fold in the sheet. He needed to remedy it, but there was some unspoken threshold that it would break if he did. Point of no return. A duel of powerful imperatives in his mind. Shouldn’t . Must .
“Do you want some help?” her silky whisper hit his ear with a prickling electricity. Almost like she’d read his mind, and had a particular bias towards one outcome in particular. He had to look like an idiot now. He was actually surprised she hadn’t gotten tired of him just sitting there like a mute lump and left. Instead he made himself give a brief shake of his head.
“I’ve got it,” he muttered. Damnit. He’d initiated this. Paid for the room. Nothing was ever going back to how it was before even if he walked out this second. He was committed, needed to see this out now, right or wrong. With a forced resolve he undid the fastenings set in the polycarbon fiber. Making the most of the momentum, he shuffled his pants down a few inches, so he could move a little. In short order he had sprung free from his fabric prison, pleasantly exposed to the warm, humid air of the room. Even through his anxiety it was a relief he could appreciate for at least a moment.
“Can I?” she asked in a hushed, eager tone. He swallowed a lump down into his gullet. She clearly felt none of his hesitation.
“Yeah,” he breathed reflexively, not giving himself time to think about and possibly decline her request. Her hand wrapped gently around him, eliciting an unconscious hiss of surprise out of his lungs. Her flesh was slightly cooler than his, but it still stimulated things just fine. Her loose fist slid slickly upwards and then down once, gingerly. A brief shudder went through him. Oh . A slow, delicious sensation started to build, drifting from his groin and up through his abdomen. His talons tightened down hard on the wad of linen in his hand. His instinct was to sink those points into her , but he knew well better than to do anything like that. It would hardly take any pressure at all to break her skin. The bedsheets were going to have to take the damage here.
“Is that okay?” She checked in again. He was quickly starting to lose the capacity for even the brusque responses he’d been giving, sinking into the feeling of her stroking him. His nervous tension thankfully finally started to give, melting away until he could almost forget it. He sank back onto his elbows.
“Nnngh,” he managed. He could have sworn she chuckled a little. Damn it all.
And then she was moving in front of him, settling on her knees. The stroking stopped and she was just holding him, and then he could feel her breath on it. It didn’t register immediately, but when it did his gizzard twisted again intensely. He sat up halfway, his toes digging against the carpet. They still have teeth , he thought suddenly.
“I, ah-” he cleared his throat again. “Careful?”
Her smile was lopsided as she laughed a little. “This is going to be fun for both of us. Relax.”
Uh huh. Right. That’ll happen.
Whatever he’d expected, the reality was better. Her mouth was on him, the gentle suction and succulent movement of her tongue threatening to rocket him to an unreasonably quick climax. The vibrations from her throaty moaning wasn’t helping- or was, in the worst way. His grip tightened harder and through the rapturous fog he thought he maybe felt the sheet’s strained fibers giving way. That was going on the bill.
He was arched, his head lolling back and his hips instinctively starting to thrust in rhythm with each bob of her head. His breaths were coming in sharp bursts and gasps, in between the crest of each rising wave of pleasure that flowed through him. He was throbbing with an aching tension that was building faster than he could remember it ever having done.
It wasn’t but maybe...two? Three?....minutes before he could feel the end coming. Not that time meant anything anymore. Without warning he became fixated on it, needing it immediately, but it wasn’t overcoming the last obstacle. What she was doing was perfect, but her current speed wasn’t sufficient. Fast enough to feel incredible, slow enough to be divine torture. He wanted to grab her head, sink his talons into that wavy mane of hers and hold her head still while he did what he needed. No . Damn it, you’d eviscerate her. Or at best terrify her.
“F-faster,” he begged shakily instead, with tremendous effort. “ Please .”
She did. Oh but she did. And as she did he knew it was coming imminently. His teeth clenched and his eyes squeezed shut, the feeling coming rushing in like a flood. “I’m…”
For a half second he realized that he didn’t know what to do about when he finished. Unfortunately, that was the half second before it actually happened. Not enough time to do anything about it. He choked back a cry of blissful satisfaction, losing himself to the moment. A unique, unparalleled experience that left him unable to fathom why he’d avoided it for so long.
Once he made it back to himself, it was to the teasing strokes of her tongue cleaning the last residual evidence of his climax off of him. Not only had she...ahem...taken ownership of the mess he’d made, but was relishing in it and making sure he could tell. It was fascinating and tantalizing to watch; a last little encore oozed from his tip in sheer enjoyment of the sight of what she was doing. She took care of that too, staring him right in the eyes as she did. Spirits .
He was fully spent at the moment, dizzily and wonderfully incapacitated. If she’d been some agent sent to kill him he’d have been done for right now. Eh . There are worse ways to go . Surprisingly the shame and guilt he’d fully anticipated weren’t rushing in, at least not yet. Which was good, because there was still time for so much more. She slid up alongside him on the bed as he worked on regaining a normal breathing rate.
“You’re not very talkative,” she observed, scratching a nail idly along a plate over his ribs. He shivered a little at how pleasant it was.
“Sorry,” he replied, quickly realizing he was demonstrating her point. He added lamely between deep drinks of air, “Having a hard time thinking of what to say.”
She smiled again. He was coming to like that already; it preceded good things. She slipped her nails between his plates, pressing them into the hide between. A spike of oh yes please don’t stop shot through him, nearly making him jump. She definitely knew what she was doing. He had to fight back a little moan of endorsement.
“It’s okay. As long as you’re still good with all of this.”
That’s not obvious?
“Yes. Definitely,” he acknowledged anyway. This time it was entirely truthful.
“So, what’s next?” she crooned gamely.
“I’m gonna need a few minutes. But I’ll think of something.”
In a few minutes he was finally fully shucking his pants; she was more than helpful, speeding the process. The refractory period was waning a good bit quicker than he was used to, but he declined to start thinking too deeply about the implications of that. In a mechanical haze he got her up on the bed, on her knees with her back pressed into him as he more fully acquainted himself with her scents. He was running his hands over her lovely smoothness, occasionally squeezing here or there, soaking in just how soft she was. He drew his tongue along her neck- her sweat-moist skin faintly salty which was just delightful. And she was making noises as he did, clearly enjoying it at least as much as he was. Spirits, her noises . She made these whimpers and moans and squeals, sounding somewhere between mate and prey, speaking to all of his basest instincts. She was loving it, and it was making him love doing it to her. It was actual mental work to resist putting his teeth in her. To top it off she was obviously aware of when he was all set to go again, feeling his solidified heat pressed between them. At some point she started grinding her backside along the length of him provocatively, until he couldn’t properly focus on what he’d been doing anymore. If she kept it up he was going to finish again despite himself, and then he’d surely be done for for at least a couple of hours. He wasn’t ready for that yet.
Totally on reflex he pushed her away, resulting in her landing down on her hands. She squeaked, surprised, but then half-smiled back at him and folded her arms down, resting her head on them. She shuffled her knees apart ever so slightly, emitting a beckoning hum that asked, ‘Well?’ Eagerly anticipating him. In that moment more than ever he wanted to savage her. To be as rough as he could be with one of his own kind, to take a deeper dive into the indulgence of his fantasies. He wouldn’t . He had more restraint than that. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted to.
Instead he looked down at her, taking time to refocus and strategize. The best way to prolong this encounter was going to be to focus on her for a bit. So focus he did. Right there, between her thighs- how she was presenting herself, ready for whatever he wanted to do. He couldn’t get over how she looked. Her kind were just... open like that, naturally. But to his instincts it felt like the result of her desire; an invitation. He pressed her folds aside, tentatively sliding a finger in between, feeling the wet and the warmth. She whimpered in what sounded like encouragement, so he kept going. He wanted to hear more of her, to again feel that incomparable ego boost of knowing the pleasure he was inflicting on her. And he got it, especially once he knelt and added his tongue into the action. The first couple of flickers were tentative, testing, uncertain. Her flavor was surprisingly good, acidic and tangy, leading him to diving in with fervor. In minutes she was writhing, huffily offering helpful directions between gratifying cries. Soon he was hard for her again, aching for the warmth and sensation of her. It was taking longer than he’d hoped for her to finish- or maybe he was just losing patience too quickly. He could just stop, just get in there and hope she finished from that by the time he did.
Don’t, inconsiderate bastard. You’re already a deviant, don’t be an asshole, too.
He redoubled his efforts, grasping her by the hips and lapping at her more firmly with his tongue, even sliding it fully into her at one point to the sound of a delicious half-shrieked gasp. Fuck. He was full-on dripping by the time her bucking and writhing culminated in what he felt fairly sure was her zenith. He kept it going a few seconds until she pleaded for mercy, just to be sure.
Thinking was entirely over and done with at this point. He was back on his feet and sinking himself deep into her with frantic need . Her sounds were lower and deeper now, vibrating from down in her chest, but still unmistakably sourced from her pleasure. He held her waist in as firm a grip as he dared, starting into her with a moderate pace to see how it was received before slowly picking up. To his excessive delight he reached his desired speed and she was still pressing back against him, crying out her ecstasy and begging for more of him. As he got closer he leaned tight over her, still thrusting away, no longer well regulating tightness of his grip. He released into her in a frenzied burst, hilting himself in her a few times in jerky, involuntary spasms. He finally allowed himself a brief vocalization of his own as he slowed, basking in the residual flood of hormones and fluids.
He ended up collapsing in a heap next to her for a while, with her curling up against him in a welcome response. Warm and soft against him, like a heated pillow that cuddled back. He could have laid there all night next to her. But eventually she was sliding away, reaching for a nearby towel. Through awkward murmurs and laughs they managed to accomplish a preliminary clean-up, followed by her making for the washroom. Afterwards he staggered there for his turn, running a quick shower as he avoided processing everything that had just happened. By the time he came out he was surprised to see she was already nearly dressed. They did that so easily.
“I should get out of here,” she smiled a little. It hit him immediately that he wasn’t looking forward to being left alone with his thoughts, especially so soon.
“You...don’t have to,” he suggested weakly. He didn’t know their myriad facial expressions well, but if he had to guess, he’d go with pity being what she was showing. She didn’t seem the type for mockery or dismissal.
“I kinda do,” she replied apologetically. She pressed her plush lips against the side of his face. “Thanks. I had fun.”
And before he’d accepted it was happening, she was gone.