After applying a little more attention to his balls, Hen used his other hand to lift Dagan’s backside. Instinctively, Dagan rolled with it, knees falling even further apart; Hen dipped his tongue into Dagan’s asscrack, licking then sucking at his taint. He could feel the shudder that racked Dagan through his tongue. He settled back onto his elbow, tonguing lower and lower. Finally, Dagan gave an impatient groan and pushed his head down gently.
Hendrik chuckled and gave in, tracing Dagan’s tight little asshole with the tip of his tongue before flattening against it and pressing.
“That’s it, mmmm,” Dagan started to say, but lost coherence at that point. He just whimpered so, so sweetly, thighs shaking, hips rocking.
Hendrik could’ve fucked the ground, in that moment, let alone fucked Dagan into it, he was so hard. He propped himself up on his forearm and set to work wholeheartedly eating Dagan’s ass like the proverbial apricot. He kept his palm against Dagan’s prick, keeping it from moving but providing some much-needed friction, and let the nails dig into his belly as Dagan writhed beneath them.
The position wasn’t made to last, though, with Dagan’s ass up in the air and nothing to support it. When Hen finally looked up, Dagan collapsed, shaking, and pulled at Hen’s hair until he crawled upward, into Dagan’s arms. Hen wiped his wet face with the back of his claw-handed arm, the other one quaking slightly with its extended efforts. He really needed to work on upper body strength in the coming moons. For a lot of reasons, but largely so he could eat Dagan’s ass in any position he liked for as long as he liked.
Dagan shifted onto his hip and popped the stopper on the oil, fumbling it once before getting some in the palm of his hand. Hen curled up to him, pressing his front into Dagan’s back and kissing the back of his neck.
“Twist my hair up?” Dagan asked, voice breathy and low.
Hen sat up and twisted Dagan’s thick hair around his unclawed hand, then settled it over his shoulder out of the way for the moment. As he finished this little task, Dagan’s slicked hand found his cock and squeezed around the base, then slid upward slowly. Hen gasped and reached for him, finding his hip and digging into it with the metal nails. Dagan stretched out on his side invitingly, then lifted one knee and aimed Hen’s prick, rubbing the oiled head of it against his spit-wet hole.
With another little growl, Hen gripped Dagan tighter and rocked his hips upward. Dagan’s asshole closed around the fat head of his cock, causing them both to gasp. Dagan reached back to grab Hen’s ass, now, as if he could pull him even closer. Hendrik pressed his entire front into Dagan’s back and lifted his hips into him. Dagan closed around him, tight and slick, almost down to the hilt. Hen was careful not to dig in with the nails, just pressing with his fingertips and the heel of his hand, as he held Dagan’s hips tight against his. “Okay, love?” Hen whispered.
“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fucking good. Is that all of it?”
“Just about.” Hen chuckled against the back of his head, then kissed it as he gave another gentle rock with his hips. Fuck, had anything ever felt so hot, so perfect, as this? “You feel like you were made for me, Dagan.”
“I was.” He arched, pushing himself down on Hen’s cock, and then moaned. “Silly boy, you should know that already.”
Hen huffed, squeezing his hip and thrusting into him again. Time became a blurry, strange thing of no consequence as they worked their way into a slow rhythm, Dagan wrapped around him tight, Hen angling to hit all the right spots inside him. Dagan kept his right knee high, wrapping that leg around the back of Hen’s thigh, which allowed for better-than-usual access in this position. It also let Dagan meet his thrusts with a rock of his own hips, taking Hen in that last little half-inch so he was buried balls-deep.
Hen lifted his head and glanced downward, across the expanse of Dagan’s heaving chest and tightened belly, to his heavy cock bobbing before it. A string of precum connected it to Dagan’s navel; Hen thrust deep into him again, and Dagan’s prick surged, dribbling. Dagan moaned once more, this time louder, and dug his fingernails into Hen’s ass.
Hen rocked harder into him, skin against skin sounding in the dark again and again. Dagan met his every thrust with a tilt of his backside and hungry little sounds. The friction between them built, threatening to burn them up. Hen’s body ached deliciously with the effort, his balls tightened with the need to empty into Dagan’s ass. “I’m gonna mark you,” he whispered, sliding his claws downward against Dagan’s thigh. “I’m gonna mark you, and then I want you to come for me. I want to feel you come on my dick, Dagan. Can you do that for me?”
“Mmm, I can do that. I’m all yours, darling. Unf—fuck—fuck me harder, yeah.”
Hen obliged and curled his fingers against the top of Dagan’s thigh, in the meaty part and far from any joints or spots that might rub while on horseback. Dagan gasped and then whimpered as Hen dragged the claws upward, watching as beautiful, dark pink tracks appeared in their wake. He kept his rhythm up, though the heat inside Dagan threatened to push him over the edge hard and fast, now. “How’s that?”
“Mmmm, sofuckinggood. Now hold me.” Dagan grabbed his hand and pressed it against his straining prick.
Hen was a little startled, seeing as the nails so close to sensitive bits seemed mildly harrowing. But Dagan rocked against his hand, grinding his leaking cock into his palm and the tight flesh of his belly into the nails around it.
“Fuck, yeah, mmmm…” It was like that was all Dagan had been waiting for, somehow. He shuddered violently from his asshole, tight around Hen’s prick, to his fingertips, pressed into Hen’s backside bruisingly hard.
Hen tried to fight off the sympathetic shudder building in him—but why? Why, when this was what they both wanted, needed so much? He buried himself deep in Dagan’s ass again and again; Dagan’s cock spasmed in his hand, cum spilling hot over it, onto Dagan’s belly, onto the blanket. Dagan whimpered and rocked down on him, breathlessly encouraging, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I want it, I fucking want you.”
Hen buried his face in Dagan’s neck and fucked every last bit of cum out of him, feeling him come utterly undone in his arms. And when Dagan was slumped and shivering, his hypersensitive, wet prick still trapped beneath Hen’s clawed hand, Hendrik dissolved, too. He came with a low growl, thrusting deeper with every wave of mind-blowing ecstasy that dragged through and over him, until cum seeped out around his prick and onto Dagan’s quivering thighs.
They both struggled to catch their breath, lying as if boneless, Hen’s arm around Dagan’s middle, metal claws trailing against the blanket, Dagan’s arm reaching back to cup Hen’s ass. Hen pulled back with his hips, and came out of Dagan with a little “oof” from both of them. Dagan laughed and squeezed his ass.
“Okay?” Hen asked.
“Fucking magical,” Dagan replied. “Gods, I hate to compliment you on your dick, but honestly, once it gets in there…”
“You hate to compliment me on my dick?” Hen laughed and popped off the cum-sticky claws.
“I feel like, when we met, that’s all you’d ever been complimented for.”
Hendrik considered this through the post-orgasm fog of bliss. “I mean. That and being a good soldier.”
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice dick.” Dagan wriggled his backside against it, fitting himself more perfectly into Hen’s chest and arms as he did so.
Hen felt sticky and gross but was nowhere near ready to move. He slid his bottom arm beneath Dagan’s neck and ran his fingers through his sparse chest hair in lazy patterns, tightening his other arm around Dagan’s waist. “Thank you,” he muttered into his hair.
“But it’s hardly the first thing I noticed about you. And it’s not the thing I’m usually looking at when I decide I want you, in any given moment.”
“What is?”
“Your eyes. Or your mouth, really. It’s pretty, you’re incredible at sucking dick, and you say the most beautiful things to me.”
“So my dick is maybe the third best thing about me?” Hen laughed. He’d never minded his dick being admired, but yeah, it did feel nice to have other things talked about. By Dagan, especially. Always had.
“About your body, perhaps.” Dagan was trying to sound indignant and failing. “It’s the way you use it, though. I love how you move your hips when you’re inside me. Like the dedication to making me come, the passion for it. And you say you don’t know how to dance…”
“I don’t.” But he did feel a great deal of dedication and passion in the act of fucking Dagan, so that much, at least, made him swell with pride.
“Well, you know enough to reduce me to a quivering pile of jelly, so I’d say you’re off to a good start.” Dagan shifted and then froze. “Ugh. Clean up?”
Hen sighed but relented. He was getting stickier the longer they lay still. “We should take care of those scratches, too.”
They returned to the nearby spring with bowls and towels, and, once they were thoroughly clean and freezing from the water, raced back to their camp, and changed the messy sex blanket out for the soft, precious one. They burrowed in, and Dagan retrieved his healing kit. The scratches on his thigh had broken the skin slightly, delicate little red dots welling up in the dark pink furrows. He sat with his thigh over Hen’s lap, the other curled up between them. Hendrik gently rubbed the sweet-smelling herbal concoction into the scratches, rosemary and thyme and other bright green things, for healing and reminding.
Dagan leaned over and kissed him as he worked, lips sliding sweetly against his, then parting to invite him in. He traced the line of Hen’s jaw, then the curve of his neck, fingers feather-light. Demanding to have his brains fucked out one moment, all gentle caresses and glowing smiles the next; this was Dagan, all of him, for all of Hendrik.
