“I was just thinking…” Hen bit at Dagan’s ear gently, then tugged.
Dagan squirmed in his lap.
Niiiiice. “Well, we’re going to be back in your old settlement. So there might be people there who don’t know.”
Dagan nuzzled him through the curtain of his hair. “Know what, darling?”
“That you’re mine.”
“Hmmmm.” Dagan hummed and then bit, just a light scraping of his teeth against Hen’s neck. “That could be a problem, couldn’t it?”
“I hate to disappoint your adoring public…” Hendrik lied, tightening his grip on Dagan’s hair. “But they really should know.”
“And you, fresh meat wandering into our isolated little community.” Dagan murmured against the pulse of his neck. “I can name names, when it comes to who will be drooling after you at the full moon celebration. We’ll have to warn them off, too.”
Hen couldn’t resist teasing. “Aw, all of them?”
Dagan curled his fingers in Hen’s hair and jerked, so his neck was even more open to him. “All of them, sweetheart. Every. Last. One.”
“Go ahead, then,” Hen whispered.
Dagan hesitated. “Are you feeling…up to it, my love? Sometimes it can be different than we expect. The pain that comes with the pleasure.”
Hen considered. “I love how sweet you’ve been with me,” he admitted as Dagan’s hand eased up in his hair. They pulled apart a little, and Hen traced Dagan’s puffy lower lip with his thumb. “You can’t know how much it’s helped me to feel like myself again.”
“Good. That’s good, Hen.” Dagan pressed his forehead to Hen’s.
“But I have nothing to be afraid of anymore. And I want to…” Hen tilted his head, kissed Dagan quickly, suddenly hungry for the taste of him again. “I want to own you. The way it felt to mark you up like that, to feel your teeth in me every time I moved for days after…”
Dagan rocked forward against him, a hot sigh on his lips. “If it’s too much, say.”
“I swear I will. I always will. You too, okay?”
“Always, yes, love. I swear.” Dagan’s hair splayed across his face and shoulders, his mouth open and inviting, his eyes bright like sunshine itself. Absolutely, unrelentingly delicious.
“By all your wild little forest gods, I want to fuck you into the ground right now.” Hen pushed upward and, with Dagan’s cooperation, they flipped onto their sides. Fingers shaking, they unlaced and removed and threw off various articles of each others’ clothing.
“Mmm, darling, yes.” Dagan fumbled Hen’s leather laces, laughing at himself. “Look at me, acting like it’s my first time…”
“Do you want to try the rings?” Hen asked.
Dagan nodded. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
“You could ask.” Hen chuckled and kissed his forehead.
Dagan finally got the laces undone and gave them a tug. “I didn’t know if they’d be an unwelcome reminder of the City you’ve only so recently escaped.”
“One of the very few welcome ones, as a matter of fact.” Hen reached for his pack to dig out the vial of oil and the little pouch Jak had procured for them. If the City had given Hen anything worthwhile, it was the ability to not only find but also use things like this for Dagan’s pleasure. He poured the variously-sized talon rings onto the blanket. He slipped three of them onto the tips of his first, middle, and ring fingers, squeezing them to make sure they fit snugly.
Yes, that’d do nicely. Well done, Jak.
“Oh, that’s hot.” Dagan sat up now, wriggling out of his own leathers, but he paused to lick his lips and admire the flashing rings.
“You think?” Hen slid the one attached to his forefinger down his own cheek, testing its sharpness. It’d take real pressure to break the skin, but the light stroke felt delightful, cool almost.
“Get over here.” But Dagan was already on his way over to Hen, instead.
They fell back into the blankets already tangled up, hands greedy and hot against cooling, bare skin. Hen raked the little claws lightly down Dagan’s shoulder blade, then his lower back, and Dagan shuddered and wrapped a leg tight around Hen’s hip. Hen slipped his thigh upward, pressing into Dagan’s hard prick and eliciting a moan. It was strange, how he could still swear he felt his missing foot tracing Dagan’s calf; he sensed the difference in the balance, but the rest still seemed to be there.
It made him realize how careful he’d been, lately, when they were tangled up like this. It wasn’t just Dagan taking it easy, sweet, gentle. Maybe he’d needed it; maybe they both had. But of a sudden, Hendrik craved something different, and signs pointed to Dagan feeling the same. Hen dug his metal claws into Dagan’s hip and pushed, flipping him onto his back. Dagan fell back gasping, hair puddling beneath his head. Greedily, he reached for Hen’s face and pulled it down to him; Hen scrambled but found his balance with surprising ease, propped up on one elbow and pinning Dagan to the blankets. After another breathless kiss, Hen slid downward to kiss Dagan’s neck and throat thoroughly, nipping here and there then licking to soothe, sucking briefly but hard enough to create temporary lovebites. He kept his palm flat against Dagan, dragging it downward slowly so the metal nails furrowed the soft, inviting skin of his belly.
Dagan wriggled and clutched at his hair fitfully, making sweet noises, whispers and whimpers alike. “Mmm, fuck, that’s so good, darling.” His voice broke on the last word as Hen dragged the nails over the jut of his hip bone, into the soft crease where it met his leg.
“Gonna eat you alive,” Hen mumbled into Dagan’s collar bone, lifting himself a little higher. He rolled, knee landing between Dagan’s legs gently, pushing them apart.
Dagan lifted his hips, arching and pressing his hard prick against Hen’s belly. “Always did remind me of a big cat.” He buried a hand in Hen’s hair and squeezed.
Fire raced through Hen’s veins at the tiny kick of almost-pain. He growled low in his chest and buried his face in Dagan’s chest, leaving more little marks that faded in seconds. As he moved lower, so did his clawed fingers, tracing the curve of Dagan’s upper thigh with cold metal, then stroking it with the flat of his bare thumb. Dagan pulled his knee up and let it fall open, offering up his inner thigh.
Hendrik pushed again, sitting up and then sliding downward, unable to resist the invitation. Dagan resituated, parting his legs and reaching up to pet Hen’s hair languidly; Hen lowered onto him, testing how his knees took his weight now that the balance was different, then mouthing Dagan’s hip. He took a deep breath, filling his head with the scent of falling leaves and clean sweat on Dagan’s skin. He kissed the flat of his belly, raking claws gently through the trail of soft, dark hair that went down, down. He kissed the point of Dagan’s hip and dipped the claws lower, dragging one over the base of his hard cock. It twitched, and Dagan gave a little moan that shattered into a gasp as Hen kissed, then sucked at the soft, sweet joint of his inner thigh. Hard.
Dagan’s prick twitched, but Hen was careful as he petted it with the claws, just the barest touch, just enough to tease. In the meantime, Hen licked, then sucked harder, then let up and licked again, then sucked and bit Dagan’s thigh.
“Fuck yesssss,” Dagan trailed off into a little hiss, writhing some more.
When he moved like that, uncontrollably, when he sounded like that, just a little bit feral, it made Hen’s blood pound. A wild, untameable thing, but his, all his in the moment. Yes, Hendrik did feel a little bit like a large, self-satisfied cat enjoying a luxurious and hard-caught meal, now Dagan mentioned it. He sucked hard, let go of Dagan’s skin with a popping sound, and nudged between his legs to lick at his balls. Here, he was gentler, of course, but no less thorough, sucking one and then the other into his mouth, tonguing and drooling to get him wet. He ran the claws lightly up Dagan’s cock again as he worked, but its impatient twitching made that difficult; instead, Hen pinned his prick to his belly stroked it with his palm, using the claws to ruffle his belly-hair on either side.
“Mmmm, fuck the gods,” Dagan groaned. That was a new one. He tugged at Hen’s hair and rocked his hips, rubbing against Hen’s hand and causing the nails to dig into his belly.
