A Boy and His Dragon (26 page)

His jeans hurt, they were so tight, and every breath left him flushed and hotter, harder. “You couldn’t tell I was thinking about you?” he demanded, knowing that wonder was in his tone. He thought he’d been obvious and besides, Bertie was
magic
.

Bertie lifted his head.

The kiss was fierce and unexpected. Arthur was pushed back on the couch by Bertie’s mouth and then by his hands, careful and strong on Arthur’s shoulders, relentless at his back. Arthur arched toward him without thinking, offering up his hips, his throbbing dick just as Bertie’s weight shifted over him.
Magic
.

As though to prove him wrong, Bertie grunted. “I am not omnipotent, Arthur,” he chided roughly between kisses. Arthur panted at his mouth, trying not to think about how
hard
he was, how hot, or how long it had been. But this was Bertie and the name slipped out of him in whispers against Bertie’s mouth.

If Bertie heard, there was no sign as his hands pushed Arthur’s shirt up and spread wide on Arthur’s skin. Arthur’s skin buzzed in response, his heart pounding under his ribs. He pushed up and met Bertie’s magnificent body in a quick slide. He licked his lips and looked up, then down between them. Bertie was hard too, his dick stretching out his dress pants. He felt big, looked big. Much, much bigger than Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur couldn’t vocalize anything for several moments, and when he finally could, it was just a “please” that didn’t explain what R. Cooper

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he wanted at all. He frowned and tried again, shifting until Bertie was between his thighs, and even that wasn’t enough. Arthur heard himself whine just a little, and would have blushed if he could have made himself care.

Bertie didn’t seem to notice any of it. He was acting strangely irritable for someone busy licking under Arthur’s ear and making approving noises every inch Arthur arched back to let him. His hands worked underneath Arthur until he finally got Arthur’s shirt over his shoulders. He threw it to the floor with a satisfied huff and then turned back to Arthur. Arthur brought his gaze up.

He had no idea what he looked like. Probably not as amazing as Bertie looked, his gleaming skin damp and darker where Arthur had kissed him, his shirt askew. Maybe Arthur just looked as stunned as he felt, because Bertie gave a minute shake of his head and glared down at him.

That fierce stare should have pinned Arthur to the spot. Instead he shuddered again, and then there was the velvet couch at his back and hot weight above him. He tried his best to bite back his helpless moan, but suddenly Bertie was crouched over him, peering into his face and staring at Arthur with a mix of pleasure and annoyance on his face. Arthur tried distractedly to think of why, but Bertie spoke before he could.

“I thought you had a Being lover before.” Bertie bent back down to puff at Arthur’s collarbone and made Arthur gasp. The skin there was still wet from Bertie’s mouth, slightly raw from Bertie’s stubble. Arthur put a hand into Bertie’s hair so Bertie wouldn’t move away or stop doing that, ever. Bertie’s voice went lower. “Do I surprise you?”

At that shaky, uneven tone, Arthur opened his legs and grabbed at Bertie’s shirt to try to pull him down. But Bertie put his hands under Arthur’s ass and lifted Arthur partly up against the arm of the couch before sliding down over him. For one heartbeat Arthur was cold and shivering and then Bertie’s fingers found the trail of blond hair at his navel and Bertie’s mouth was on his chest. When Arthur pushed up there was finally pressure, burning against his A Boy and His Dragon

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tight jeans and trapped dick. Bertie’s body, everywhere, skin and bulk and fire.

“No. I did. No. What?” Arthur panted without any kind of thought. He wanted to defend himself, but he gave up the cause as smoky breath hit his nipples. He jerked and reached out until he found more of Bertie’s skin. He touched the back of Bertie’s neck, the line of his throat, but it wasn’t enough, so he gathered up bunches of Bertie’s dress shirt and tugged until the shirt was out of Bertie’s pants. Then he pulled again until he felt more buttons give.

He almost didn’t hear Bertie’s growl, but he felt it slip under his skin. He couldn’t tell if the sound meant Bertie was pleased or angry, but at the moment he didn’t care.

“What?” Arthur tried again, pushing up and getting a hand between them to get at his zipper. Bertie swatted his hand away and licked at him when Arthur moaned.

“The
fairy
,” Bertie spoke shortly and put a hand to Arthur’s hip to hold him still. Then Arthur thought he felt
teeth
. He almost blacked out when that made his blood pound harder, made it agony to move and know no relief was coming, but no matter how he tried Bertie didn’t let him move up as he made his way slowly, too fucking slowly, down Arthur’s chest. As if this was really, finally happening.

Arthur dragged his hands along Bertie’s back where the skin was like silk. Bertie stopped. His roar wasn’t quite a word, but Arthur thought he heard his name, like a plea that coiled up inside Arthur as tight as a spring. Bertie slid his mouth over Arthur’s stomach and shifted over him again. Forget fairies, Arthur thought, breathing raggedly in and out, he had this.

“Clem—” He stopped himself before he said the name, somehow sure it was wrong to say it now, and then struggled to think of anything to say at all. “He… that was different,” he insisted.

Bertie growled anyway, the sound hitting Arthur deep inside, in a place dark and lonely.

It was dangerous to make a dragon jealous, but Arthur wet his mouth again because he couldn’t do anything else, and he wanted Bertie to want him that much. “Clematis,” he began to explain, R. Cooper

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though he was underneath a dragon without even a shield to protect him, and gasped because those
were
teeth against his skin. They were as sharp as Bertie’s voice was soft. Arthur would come right that second if Bertie weren’t careful.

“Please, pet. Please.” But Bertie wasn’t pushing inside him or holding him down, he was begging Arthur for information about Clematis, wanting Arthur to want him more.

Arthur’s hand found its way to Bertie’s cheek. “No, it was…” He tried to think of his ex and could only get flashes of glitter and giggles and the taste of sugar. “It was fun.” The second growl hit him in the stomach and traveled, white hot and heavy, down to his balls. He pushed up and groaned when Bertie continued to hold him down. Arthur shook his head and realized his voice was the barest rasp. “But this is…” frightening and intense and amazing. Deathly good and terrifying at the same time. If he could have, he would have fallen to his knees. He sucked down a breath at the thought of declaring himself as Bertie’s boy so obviously. It didn’t do any good. The thought made him writhe.

“This is
serious business
.”

The low rumble against his palm and then his hipbone sounded a lot like “darling.” But he had no time to wonder if Bertie had understood what he meant, because Bertie abruptly pulled away and knelt back, watching with all-black eyes as Arthur trembled. Then he slid one hand over Arthur’s hip and put the other over Arthur’s fly.

Arthur arched his hips up, frowning at Bertie when the glide of the zipper took too long and then inhaling in relief and pleasure when Bertie licked at his lips, probably to taste the precome in the air. Maybe he did, or maybe he smelled how close Arthur was to begging, because in the next second he shoved Arthur’s pants down in one rough motion and pulled down Arthur’s underwear with them. Bertie didn’t give Arthur a chance to do much more than try to kick to get rid of the tangled mess, and then he settled back down between Arthur’s legs.

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He must have understood what Arthur meant by serious business, because the tongue that tasted the skin around Arthur’s belly button took its time, and the nip that followed was gentle.

“Arthur.” Bertie’s body was mostly out of reach, but his mouth, his hot mouth, was close enough to make Arthur go tense.

“Arthur, I wouldn’t leave you.” Contempt for Clematis left the air charred, but Bertie slipped a slow hand between them to tease Arthur’s balls.

Arthur looked down at Bertie’s sleek black hair, the rasping stubble almost at his thigh, and the full lips close to his dick. The room was trembling.

“I don’t want you to,” Arthur wanted to say, but he forgot everything when Bertie turned to taste the head of Arthur’s cock before sucking it into his mouth.

It had been forever since Arthur felt this and it had
never
been Bertie, with his hands pressing into Arthur’s skin like he wanted more and his curling tongue that could smell and taste everything.

Arthur reached out until his hands were flat at Bertie’s shoulders, and he arched up the moment Bertie’s hands slid to the couch. Bertie let him this time, breathing hard and drooling wetly around Arthur’s dick. Arthur closed his eyes and tried, tried not to move anyway, but his cock was sliding into a hot, wet mouth, into a tight throat, and he was so hard that for a second when he heard the greedy sounds escaping Bertie, he thought he was the one making them.

He shifted up, just an inch this time, maybe less, and Bertie didn’t laugh a delighted fairy laugh at his eagerness or impatience, he didn’t do anything but swallow and take more and make choking, embarrassing noises that Arthur couldn’t bear to hear because he wanted Bertie inside him too. That much, maybe even more. He wanted Bertie inside of him almost as much as he needed to come, to hear Bertie tell him to. Bertie would want him to, he’d purr it if he could. “Come, Arthur pet. In my mouth please, treasure.” And the idea of the words was like the firm heat of his tongue under Arthur’s cock, a soft stroke and a whispered request. Arthur would do anything Bertie asked, didn’t Bertie know that?

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“Bertie,” it slipped out in that same raw voice, louder than Arthur had ever said it, and he shut his eyes tight and imagined Bertie’s voice again, begging him,
pouting
at him for not spurting come into his mouth for him to taste. He thrust up and then came, sudden and hard until he couldn’t do anything but twitch as Bertie swallowed around him.

He opened his mouth and left it open for a long time so he could catch his breath. He stared up at the ceiling until Bertie pulled away from his sensitive, soft dick and climbed back into view.

Arthur couldn’t make out his expression. It was too like what his expression was in a room full of blindingly bright treasure, but he recognized the smug curve to his lips and the quick dart of his pink tongue.

“Arthur.” The slow murmur against his mouth was deep and sweet and flavored with his come, which wasn’t sweet at all. Arthur thought vaguely of fairies one more time and then put his hands back into Bertie’s hair before he raised his head. With his mouth against Bertie’s ear, Bertie wouldn’t see his face.

“Sorry,” he mumbled over his embarrassment at coming so quickly.

“I don’t mind. In fact, I… thank you.” Bertie surprised him again since Arthur was sure he was supposed to be the one saying that here. “It was flattering. Not everyone cares for dragon bodies when we’re changed like this, and I thought… I wasn’t sure about you.”

“Not sure?” Arthur’s voice was husky. He pulled back enough to watch Bertie blink awkwardly at him. Bertie looked like he wanted to blush again. “You couldn’t tell?”

“Dilated pupils can also mean fear, dear boy,” Bertie teased after clearing his throat, but the way he exhaled against Arthur’s skin was warm. He moved his hips, just a little, and Arthur automatically inched his legs open wider.

“You couldn’t…” Arthur hesitated and then tried a lick under Bertie’s ear. His tongue couldn’t detect the things that Bertie’s could, but it felt good, and Bertie seemed to think so too. He curled A Boy and His Dragon

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into Arthur and grasped at him, so Arthur did it again before he scowled and thought about his next question. “You couldn’t smell it?”

“Ah.” Bertie either sensed his confusion or was just making sounds for what Arthur was doing to him. Arthur had never thought about rendering a dragon speechless, but at the moment it seemed like something he really should try. “That… oh, Arthur… that isn’t how it works, as such. Arthur, please.” Bertie’s breathing hitched as Arthur dared more, licking at Bertie’s jaw, spicy and clean, but he allowed Arthur to push him up and back onto the cushions and said nothing that didn’t indicate acquiescence when Arthur straddled his hips. Arthur could feel the powerful, hidden strength beneath him when Bertie breathed in, his body rolling under Arthur as if Bertie
could
move mountains.

The air stuttered out of him, leaving him weak and wanting to apologize, but Bertie’s eyes closed and his voice was quiet and eager. “Please, Arthur.”

“How does it work?” Arthur asked to distract him from how clumsy he was with the remaining buttons, not that Bertie seemed to care. He shrugged his shirt off and then took Arthur’s hand and pulled it to his crotch. Arthur instantly spread his fingers over the bulge, though he also scowled to himself, because he wasn’t
completely
a virgin here. He didn’t need
that
much guidance.

He bent down to suck a mark onto Bertie’s shoulder and scooted up until he was in Bertie’s lap. He wanted to move in time to Bertie’s heavy breathing but he didn’t want to take his hand away either.

“You cruel thing, asking these questions now,” Bertie whined but eased up when Arthur pulled down the zipper to lightly touch the slick, wet fabric stretched over his cock. He paused to exhale and then opened his eyes. “
Arthur
.” Bertie was practically vibrating.

“It’s not about what I smell as much as it’s what the scents trigger in me. What they make me want to do. Don’t tease, darling.”

“What….” Arthur’s mouth was dry. “What do they trigger?

What do you want to do?” He kept his head down but stared with wide eyes as he peeled away damp silk to look at Bertie’s cock. It R. Cooper

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