"Did so well." You take mercy on Misha, reaching down to pet his dark curls. "So good for me, aren't you?"


He deserves a kiss for his hard work, but you aren't crazy about the taste of come. 


"I want you to run to the bathroom and get ready for me okay?" You say. "Make sure you brush your teeth."


He nods, still keeping ahold of your cock.


"Good boy," you say, with a particularly intense scratch over his scalp that flutters his eyes closed. "Go now."


He draws off you, your cock instantly cool after the warmth of his mouth. The shower hisses to life and you know he's steaming up the air for you. Immortals run cold, but when you want it hot you want it hot. You lay back in bed, arms behind your head. The TV is just noise at this point, so you click it off. 


Water streams into the toilet bowl as Misha cleans himself out. You love to eat ass, and Misha's is always delectable. A half-hearted tingle buzzes your cock at the thought, but you haven't fed enough to get hard again so soon. That's okay, though. What comes next is a reward for your good boy, it's not for you. 


Although you will, of course, enjoy every second of it. After all, Misha could tell you that an erection isn't strictly necessary for physical pleasure. You give him a few more minutes before throwing the covers back. Hot air steams out of the bathroom as you open the door.


He's spitting toothpaste into the sink, watching your eyes through the mirror.


"Ready for me, Meesh?" You ask.


"Yes, sir." His voice is still a little rough.


"Poor boy, your throat hurts doesn't it?" You say, drawing him to your chest. "Let me kiss it better."


He tilts his head perfectly for you, and you bend down to place soft kisses all over his neck. The skin over his veins is hot with the blood beneath, making you crave him. But it's not time for that yet. You want him moaning to all the blackest gods, hole clenching around your tongue before you taste him.


You tilt his face down, finally kissing him on the lips. Even with Morgan's blood so recently in your mouth, the fresh toothpaste is intense on your tastebuds. You bear it, though, giving your swan the gentle smooching he deserves. He prefers it rough, but sometimes it's about what you want. 


You break away to whisper against his lips, "I want your hole."


"Please, sir," he whines. 


You chuckle. "Get in the shower."  


Misha scampers, and you laugh at how adorable it is. 


"Eager little thing, aren't you?" You tease.


"It's just 'cause you do it so good," he says, backing up until he's under the spray.


"Turn around," you say. "Hands on the wall."


Bending at the waist, Misha throws his hands against the tile. He splays his legs as wide as the shower allows. 


Following the the flow of water, you drag your thumb down his spine, hitting every bump and knob. When you reach the swell of his ass, you pause. Slowly you stroke your thumb up and down the cleft. 


"There it is," you say, the heat of his hole warming your skin even more than the steam. 


"Please," he begs. "Please, sir, please."


"You beg so pretty, mishka." 


You press your thumb into his hole, not hard enough to penetrate. Just enough to make him gasp. 


"What do you want?" You ask him.


"Whatever you want," he says quickly. "Anything!"


You bring your hand down on his ass, just enough to sting.  He yelps.


"That's not the answer to what I asked," you say, voice stern. "What do you want me to do to you, Misha?"


"Eat me out, sir!" He says. "I want your tongue in me, please!"


"All you had to do was ask," you say, kneeling behind him. The shower pours off his back, down your neck.


You spread his cheeks, revealing the pink hole between them. The apple of his ass is irresistible, and you have no choice but to worry it between your teeth. All of your teeth are sharper than a human's, not just your cuspids, but you're careful not to tear him. It wouldn't be smart to damage your favorite part of him. Letting him go, you pull back to admire the teethmarks already rouging his skin. You lean in again, biting the cheeks further inside. First one side, then the other. Misha moans and arches back, trying to get your face deeper towards his hole.


"Patience," you say, tugging on his balls swaying below his chastity cup. "The water's not even cooling down yet."


You dive in again, this time nibbling as you go. Finally your face is smack dab between his cheeks. You don't need your immortal privileges to take in the heady smell of his body. So close to his opening the musk is obvious, and delicious. 


Tasting his hole again, you start teasing him with short, quick kitten licks. He tries to arch back again, but you don't increase the tempo. Broadening your tongue, you lick him ice-cream style all the way up his crack from taint to hole. Then you go back to the opening, rapid fire again. You lap at his entrance until he breaks, whining in heated frustration.


"More, sir," he begs. "Please!"


You bite his rim, and he cries out, face crashing against the wall.


"Careful, mishka," you say. "It's slippery when wet."


He doesn't get the chance to reply. Hardening your tongue, you push past the swelling rim. Misha sighs as the point enters him. You want more of those sounds, so you spread his cheeks wide and push your tongue as far inside of him as it'll reach. 


"Gods!" His voice strangles out, despite himself.


But you're not done tongue fucking him if he can still talk. Spearing him again, you swirl your tongue around the rim once you're inside. You withdraw just enough to spike your tongue in and out directly in the opening. Releasing one of his cheeks, you reach for his taint. While your tongue fucks his insides, your fingers press between his legs. 


Misha groans, wordless and broken, as you finger his prostate from the outside. The sound shoots straight your bloodstream, and you can't hold back anymore.


"Come here." Bracing yourself on the tub, you shoot to your feet, hauling Misha's head around to meet your mouth. "Taste your ass."


Your lips crash together, your tongue surges past his teeth, painting his own flavor inside his mouth. He doesn't fight it, moaning through the kiss. 


"Bite me" he pants when you release him enough to allow it. "Please, sir."




You drag your face down the side of his neck, the craving at full force. The mouthful you took from Morgan wasn't enough to sate you, and you're ready for more. One hand skates down his chest, the other cups his head.


And then you bite him. His taste explodes in your mouth like it always does, rich and deep. Misha's bloodline is old, his ancestors have belonged to the House for centuries, and you swear you can taste that devotion in his blood.  


It's different than Morgan. She's always tangy and sharp, energizing, part of a balanced breakfast. Drinking from Misha fills you with contentment. All is right with the world when your swan is in your power, and his blood is in your veins. You allow yourself to take a little more than earlier. Not enough to be dangerous, but enough that your boy is going to need some sustenance. 


You pull up, lapping at the blood dripping from the wound. "Here, now."


Just as you did with Morgan, you give him a few drops of yourself to stop his bleeding. He leans back against your chest, shaking. He always trembles, helpless in your arms when you take him like this.


"Easy, Meesh," you croon in his ear. "I've got my boy, now."


You turn off the water, snatching up a towel to bundle him up in. 


"We'll order some fruit and muffins from the House," you tell him as you dry off his hair. "Would you like that?"


"Yes, sir," he mumbles. Even with your blood bolstering him, he's still a little loopy. "Blueberries?"


Warmth blooms in your chest at his hopeful tone. 


"Of course, mishka." You drop a kiss on his damp curls. "Blueberries it is."

Ira's Bevy 1.2

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