My spouse Damien wrote a fantastic sci fi erotica story that we decided to share with you! So here is your end-of-the-year gift from both of us. Happy holidays and may you have a wonderful new year!
He listened as they showered, mostly to hear the running water, to know when it shut off, and when to take the almost sheer, soft robe he’d had made for them. They knew about it, but had yet to see it. That and a pair of pretty, old-fashioned style panties, and he was smitten all over again.
Oh certainly, looks didn’t sell Kartan entirely on someone, he’d seen enough pretty people with vile personalities to let him know very well who to avoid. But Kaja, whatever version of Kaja he got that day, was gorgeous, kind, compassionate, witty, amusing, and somehow managed to have a sex drive that matched his.
A feat considering most humans couldn’t match a Arkasian’s sex drive, or really any other species he’d come across, except maybe Slieven, but that was more hearsay than experience (or admission of said species). He wasn’t about to experiment with a Balvanian no matter how pretty, the acidic nature of their bodily fluids would not be good for his old body.
“It’s gorgeous, Kartan,” they said, “Thank you.”
“No,” he said, “it’s nothing compared you to my dear,” he said, taking one of their hands and kissing the knuckles with a disarmingly direct look, and then giving them a charming smile he knew made their knees weak.
“Listen here you old lizard,” they said, but he knew it had no force behind it, but even that hint of arguing was appealing.
“This old lizard is telling the truth,” he said, gallantly. “Now come along, my dear.” He gave their hand a light tug.
He led them into the bedroom, and that of course, was prepared for their visit, with bottles and bottles of various new creams and oils. After all, what would he use for their delicate human skin? Arkasians needed heavy creams and oils for their scaly skin, and none of those were here because they would stick to Kaja’s skin and need washing off.
Together they narrowed it down to two, and he chose the one he liked better of the two, putting the rest in the other room. When he came back, he took a broad black ribbon from his pocket.
“I know I said that you could do this in any order you like,” he said, drawing the ribbon between his hands, looking down at it, “but,” he looked up at them again, “I think the massage would be nice afterward, don’t you?”
They flushed but nodded, tucking a dark lock of hair behind one ear. “Is the ribbon for what I think it’s for?”
“Well it’s certainly not for your hair,” he teased, tugging it between his blunt claws, “we could go without it, if you prefer, but a loosely tied ribbon around the wrists is most appealing, if you ask me.”
That had definitely been something they’d done together before, and he knew that was why they’d asked. They held out their hands, but he demurred.
“No,” he said. “Not yet, certainly. I can’t undress you if your hands are tied, and I should very much like to undress you, if I may?” He laid the ribbon on the bed, and turned to them, rubbing his hands together a little in anticipation.
Of course, they nodded, and he felt a little flutter in his stomach. How lucky he was to find someone who still made him feel this way, months, almost a year after they’d first gone on a “date” as humans called it. How quaint.
He reached out then, gesturing them closer, and pushed their hair back over their almost delicate shoulders, running his hands over those shoulders gently, admiring the diaphanous folds of the robe that almost but not quite hid their appealing figure from him, the fabric shifting slightly as he did.
At first, he couldn’t bring himself to break that moment, but he did, pushing the robe gently from their shoulders and watching it slide down over their skin, the blue-black fabric pooling like a swath of night sky on his floor. He was certainly too poetic for his own good.
Their body was perfect, his definition of course, he had no use for anyone else’s. He had a broad definition of it, and soft, ready, and willing was often all he needed to consider a body beautiful and perfect. He revered scars, stretch marks, the lack thereof, anything and everything a body could show him.
Their nipples were hard in the air, and they didn’t cross their hands to cover themself, and he took great joy in that fact, even as they flushed slightly. He reached up and ran the soft padded tips of his scaled fingers over one side of their collarbone, and then leaned in to kiss them, softer than he felt like he could stand to. He wanted to grip their upper arms and give them bruising kisses, but after a stressful day like today, softer sweeter kisses were necessary.
And they melted into him, even as his hands found their arms. He loved them for that, for the fact that even though he was a ridiculous, manic, paranoid old creature, a dragon by human standards; they would melt into him, throw their arms around his neck, and make him feel desired.
He was reluctant to push them away, so he kissed her again and again, softly still, but with just enough firmness to remind her of his possessiveness… that she was his, and that consensually he would be the one to decide who he would share them with.
They let out a breathless sound against his mouth, and despite his self-control, he felt himself becoming aroused. Not yet, Kartan, he reminded himself, and he gently pushed them back. “Now,” he said, almost breathless himself, “I have a very special treat for you.”
They gave him an inquisitive look, dark brown eyes wide, and almost too innocent. That fine line he loved. “A treat?” they asked, seductively, running their fingers down along the ridges on one side of his neck. One, two, three, four… he caught their hand and kissed their fingers, each movement had sent jolts straight through him.
“A treat,” he agreed, smiling mysteriously. “I lie on the bed, and you sit over me and let me do all of the work.”
“Sit on your face?” they said, with some alarm, cheeks flushing much brighter. “But – I-I could break your neck!”
“My dear,” he said, trying very hard not to laugh. “Look at my neck, and tell me if you think you’re going to break it. As an Arkasian, I am very strong anyhow, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and my neck is much stronger than a human’s, and they manage it quite well enough.”
“But… what if I hurt you?” They twisted their hands together, and he took them in his, chafing them gently.
“Unless you intend to stand on my face, my dear Kaja, everything will be just fine. Your legs will take most of the weight, as will my chest. And I am perfectly capable of telling you if there is any pain, but it is deeply unlikely, I promise you. If you really would rather not, of course I will not insist.”
“No- I- it sounds nice,” they admitted, smiling a little at him, and he beamed.
“I assure you, it will be,” he said. “You do know I am a master with my tongue,” his brows danced just enough to elicit another blush, and he pinched one of those pink cheeks gently. “Now I would like your wrists to be loosely bound, but since you are concerned with this endeavour, you can say no if you like.”
“It’s all right, Kartan,” they said softly, leaning into his hand, closing their eyes partway when he stroked their cheek. “Hands behind or in front?”
“I’ll be able to reach behind more easily in the event of an emergency, but if you prefer in front where you can catch your balance better, that may be wiser.” He squeezed their hands and picked up the ribbon again.
“Behind then,” they said, “since I can’t imagine doing much with my hands other than resting them on my knees. But I’d like to do it after I’m mostly in position, so I don’t fall trying to climb on the bed.”
“An excellent idea, my dear,” he said, even though he’d already thought of it, and wouldn’t have allowed them to attempt it. He didn’t strip down entirely, but he slipped off his shirt and while he contemplated taking the time to fold it, he decided against that, and tossed it on the floor.
They waited patiently for him to climb up and lie on his back on the bed. They were still flushed when they climbed up with him, but didn’t hesitate in the slightest, once they’d abandoned their panties. They’d almost forgotten, starting up onto the bed before abruptly remembering, and he’d almost teased them that he could do this through panties certainly, but he thought the embarrassment might undo them.
Instead he waited patiently for them in return. He helped them with getting into place, glad of the training in his past, because the view would have been dreadfully distracting otherwise. He braced his hands against their back as they set their knees, shins cross his shoulders, feet against his ribs, bottom planted on his chest for now so that he could tie their hands.
“There we are,” he said, with a smile that was more of a smirk. “Now let me just tie you up, and we’ll begin.”
They swallowed hard. “Yes sir,” they said, and he could see their pulse jump in their neck, which lent more arousal to something that was already a turn-on.
He slipped the ribbon around their wrists by feel, tying it in a loose bow. They could probably pull it apart if they really tried, but he could easily reach up and catch the ends and pull it loose.
And then they shifted into place and he let his training go again. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the sight, the scent… his heart beat faster and his stomach fluttered. Yes, this was good.
He dragged his tongue slowly along their folds, and their stifled moan of pleasure sent a thrill through him. He could almost picture them biting their full bottom lip, and he did love that. He repeated the movement, and then again, more quickly this time. He circled the hard nub of their clit when he found it, then grazed his tongue back and forth across it, flicking slightly, feeling their thighs jerk as they jumped with each flick.
The angle must have made things more interesting, he was sure. He pressed his mouth against them, stroking more firmly with his tongue, feeling wetness growing against his chin where their heat lingered closest. He almost closed his eyes as he bent to the task, but he knew that could end up distracting. And he didn’t want to be stuck doing the same thing over and over except by choice.
He shifted downward, teasing their opening, feeling the wetness against his tongue which sent a surge of arousal through him. They moaned, loudly this time, and he was certainly glad of the fact that the walls of their shared quarters were soundproof. Good Arkasian architecture. He teased the hot folds there, and then with a determined movement, pointed his tongue and slid it into them, almost jerking back when she clenched suddenly.
He repeated the movement again and again, risky though it might’ve been, because of the quiver of their thighs as he gripped them, and the whimpering little sounds they were making. He dipped his tongue in one last time, tasting just how wet they were, before broadening his tongue again and running it up to the throbbing nubbin of their clit. He glanced upward, and he could see their chest heaving, face tilted up and away, and he knew they must have been getting close.
Their legs pressed against his chest, and he pulled away to snatch another breath of air and then went back to it, licking, teasing, flicking… making them let out ungodly sounds that meant he was hard in his pants, an uncommon thing for him. He could hold it in so easily, at least, usually.
He drew them into his mouth, sucking on their clit, and they let out a low sound that made his skin tingle. He’d never tried this before, and now he wanted to do it more often, if they’d make a feral sound like that again.
He alternated flicking and sucking with the occasional teasing brush, and he could feel their legs tighten against him. He ran his hands over their thighs, occasionally catching a deeper breath than he could take in through his nose, trying to push them over the edge, when they finally came.
They often came hard, hard enough to surprise him and this time was no different. He felt them come, and that made his heart beat faster. He had felt them come dozens of times, but this was different, different than hovering above them and feeling the ghost of it. This was tight and close and throbbing, and he loved every moment of it.
He gently pushed them back to sit on his softly scaled chest again when they’d relaxed, and undid their hands so they could rest them. “That was lovely,” he said, draping the ribbon over their soft, round thighs. He gave them that slightly manic, tender, toothy smile they loved, reaching up to brush the backs of his fingers over their cheek.“Now,” he said, in a not-quite-serious tone, “someone is certainly going to have to take care of my problem. I wonder who that might be?”
This post was not sponsored. I do not accept guest posts from people I’m not married to.