Work Text:
“You really like when I grab your tail, don’t you?” Phainon doesn’t wait for a response, gripping the base in an unyielding fist and using it as leverage to slam his hips deep.
Khaslana's moan is punched out of him, loud and breathy, muffled into the pillow. His tail quivers violently, unable to choose between straightening in surprise or curling with pleasure.
Not that it matters anyways, when Phainon’s gripping it like this– tugging just to watch the way it obscenely presents Khaslana's ass to him.
Phainon licks his lips, pulls out achingly slowly. Watches Khaslana bite his lip, muffle his whine. Phainon's other hand spreads the cheeks in front of him, draws his eyes down like a magnet. He watches in rapt attention as Khaslana's hole squeezes like he’s trying to keep him inside.
“I wanna hear you,” Phainon says, on a breath that rumbles from his throat. Unbidden, a groan chases it. He stops before the head pops out, holds himself there, thighs quivering with restraint.
Khaslana's back twitches, bends further inwards. His fingers clench in the sheets, cat-sharp nails tearing through the thin fabric. Another noise, muffled behind bitten lips and a stubborn throat, edging on desperation.
Phainon’s waiting. Waiting for Khaslana to fall apart, to give in. To fuck himself back on Phainon’s cock, desperate for the fill of it, the writhing heat.
He’s got him in the palm of his hand. A lithe, mesmerizing thing, tense from his thighs to his shoulders; holding himself back. Around Phainon’s cock, his hole clenches sporadically. It’s distracting, but Phainon has a goal. And he will see it through until the end. Until the inevitable victory.
They’ll both win.
“Come on,” Phainon coaxes, tone somewhere on the wrong side of reassuring. A little too dark, a little too much like a command. He shifts, turns his hold on Khaslana's ass cheek into a grope, fingers digging into the muscle, prying him wide and dirty.
Khaslana's back heaves. His chest, pressed to the mattress, slips as his body cants quickly backwards then forwards; an action caught a second too late. Between his legs, his cock leaks on untouched, swollen with blood.
The cracks are forming. Phainon’s lips twitch, something wicked trying to crawl onto his face.
He tugs at Khaslana’s tail again, lifting his ass higher, sinking a single inch deeper into him. Keeping him on that knife’s edge. Sweat drips down his temple, slides down Khaslana's spine.
“Phai–” Khaslana begins, and then cuts himself off. His fists go on, clenching and unclenching. At war with his own pride. His hips twitch of their own accord, so desperate for the pleasure Phainon knows he wants but refuses to reach for.
“Slut.” The syllables curl with Phainon’s smile, sharp and loving.
Khaslana shivers visibly. Phainon watches it travel down his spine with a dark satisfaction unfurling in his chest.
“You know what you need,” Phainon continues. “So take it.” He accentuates his words with another pointed tug, digs his fingers in until they indent the flesh.
Khaslana pants and pants, then turns to press his entire face into the pillow, hiding.
That won’t do.
Phainon releases his ass, reaches forward to grip Khaslana by his hair, and tugs. He wrenches Khaslana's face free of the pillow, his back arching to accommodate the movement. Another inch deeper.
Khaslana gasps, lips spit-slick and parted, eyes fluttering shut. Phainon leans down, noses at the fluffy shell of his ear.
Whispers right into it, “You can’t hide from me.” He pulls back to bite at Khaslana’s shoulder, a mean scrape of teeth he doesn’t bother soothing over. “So stop trying.”
Khaslana's moan is a wavering thing, vibrating from his throat uninhibited.
Phainon sinks a few inches in, feels how Khaslana's spine curves beneath him in anticipation, excitement. How his breath picks up. Phainon licks up the sweat at his shoulder blades, pauses for a breathless few seconds, and pulls back out.
Khaslana's whine of displeasure is sharp and clear this time. “Phainon,” he rasps out. His hips twitch, writhe. Phainon doesn’t aid him. He buries his smile into Khaslana's shoulder.
“Khaslana,” he returns, even-keel except for the faint tremor in his voice, the strain as a result of holding still. He pulls back to survey the state of the man beneath him.
Khaslana's pants turn ragged. His eyes squeeze shut, sweat beading at his hairline. Phainon begins stroking the underside of the very base of his tail, where he knows it’s most sensitive.
Sure enough, a pitchy moan scrapes from Khaslana’s throat, sensitive, strung-out. Phainon digs his thumb harder into it, rubs quick, firm circles.
“Hm,” Phainon observes, over Khaslana’s increasing mewls, “it’s kinda like a clit.”
The fissure of Khaslana’s composure cracks wide open.
His voice breaks entirely under his next moan, hitching unevenly in his straining throat. Frantically, feverish, he darts a hand back and claws at Phainon’s thigh.
“Please–” he cries, body blazing red head to toe. His hips twitch uncontrollably, back into Phainon’s cock– just a jump– and then it’s like he can’t stop. He tries to push back further, encourage Phainon deeper inside, unable to get very far with the hand clenched like a vice in his hair.
He only manages to get a few inches, but he takes it like it’s God’s greatest gift, pushing himself back against the small allowed length with singleminded desperation– like just this is enough to get him off.
“There you go,” Phainon breathes, awe creeping into his tone as he watches Khaslana finally fall apart.
“Did you like that?” he can’t help but ask. “Me calling your tail a clit?” Phainon starts to really rub it like one, pressing into right where the underside of it meets Khaslana’s skin, unforgiving.
Khaslana comes alive beneath him, a bright burning star of mindless pleasure. Bouncing and bouncing, trying to get further each time but unable to; Khaslana writhes halfway on Phainon’s cock and cries out, “I’m close, I’m close– Phainon!”
Oh? “Untouched?” Phainon purrs, voice a deep rasp he doesn’t recognize. Lust, he realizes, frays one's mind.
“Please,” Khaslana begs nonsensically, for nothing in particular, voice reedy. “Please, please–”
“Yeah?” Phainon pants back. Shifts his stance, mounts Khaslana properly.
Waits until his cries crescendo into rasped whines and incoherent pleas, waits until he starts shaking, clenching tight around the cock in his ass, pulsing heat.
And right, right before Khaslana crests his peak– Phainon grips him by his hair, fists his tail, and slams home with a single unforgiving thrust.
Khaslana howls as he comes, untouched, futilely trying to escape the sudden fullness after being denied it for so long; writhing away, back, twitching all over and with nowhere to go.
Phainon holds him there and counts to five. Watches him cry out, gorgeous in his pleasure. Releases him in favor of gripping his waist in a bruising hold.
“Good job,” Phainon praises, voice weighed down by heady lust and the smell of Khaslana’s desperation. He places his thumbs in the dimples above the curve of Khaslana's ass. “Here's your reward.”
He pulls out and just as quickly slams back in. Full up to the brim, merciless and brutal. Khaslana’s ass meets his hips with a loud smack. Phainon doesn’t pause for a second; ignores Khaslana’s hoarse cries of sensitivity and yanks his hips up when they try to jolt away from the overstimulation, manhandles him like a fleshlight.
Tugs him into his thrusts, chasing a pleasure that melts him from the inside out, turns the marrow in his bones into carbonation, sets him alight.
Phainon pounds into Khaslana without remorse, uncaring of his still-ongoing orgasm, the bright sparks of pain-pleasure he’s subjecting him to and his wounded sobs. Fucks him deep where he’s sensitive and keeps going even further still, the rippling clench of Khaslana’s ass sending him drunk and dizzy.
He's deliciously tight and boiling hot. His pulse is frantic even in here, throbbing with panicked urgency against Phainon’s length. At the head of the bed, the frame knocks into the wall with repeated dull thumps, and Khaslana is limp against the pillows, eyes rolled back and mouth dropped open.
Phainon shivers at the vacancy, at his pliancy, at the drool beginning to leak from the corner of his mouth. He's just taking it, out of his mind but moaning anyways, letting Phainon be the only thing to hold him up.
Panting, dripping sweat, Phainon fucks into Khaslana’s sloppy hole with abandon, chasing his own pleasure as it builds and builds.
He leans down, forces Khaslana’s hips up high, and moans into his fluffy, twitching ear, "I love this pussy of yours.”
Call it a hunch. Pure depravity. Phainon’s own fantasies; he wants to test it.
The faint tremoring that had started when Khaslana came returns with fervor. Following it is a larger, full-body shudder that travels from the tips of his ears all the way to his hole, that ripples and clenches around Phainon.
A whine intercepts his fucked out moans, hiccuped and high-pitched, hitching out of his throat with each brutal thrust of Phainon’s hips.
It is, frankly, a pathetic sound.
Phainon's resulting grin is downright feral. He was right, Khaslana does get off on it.
Phainon licks his lips, makes sure his hot pants land right beside the sensitive part of Khaslana’s ear.
“You're squeezing me so tight, Khaslana. Even though it hurts, you want it, don’t you?”
Khaslana sobs, nods frantically. He looks drunk on it, cheek flushed in dark, uneven splotches. Phainon grips his waist tighter, until his fingertips bleed white, hoping to bruise.
“I know you do,” Phainon continues over Khaslana’s whorish moans, something dark and growling in his voice. “You want me to breed you?”
Khaslana throbs around him in a clench so tight it feels like he’s trying to cut Phainon’s dick off and keep it inside him.
He wails, “Yes!”
Phainon nuzzles at the base of Khaslana’s ear, mouthing up the fuzzy edge of it. Khaslana shivers; beneath him, against him, around him– full body. His moans trip in his throat, kicked up an octave, a whine on every breath.
Phainon doesn’t bother smothering his grin at the sounds. He speeds his hips up, drives hard and fast into Khaslana with each thrust like he’s trying to get him pregnant.
The thought alone makes him moan, low and unfettered. Melts the last of his sanity out of his ears, his pace bruising.
Mindlessly, he murmurs with conviction, “Yeah. I'll get you pregnant.”
Khaslana sobs around a curse, and his hands that were previously jolting limply clench in the pillows, tearing straight through the fabric without remorse.
Phainon doesn’t give a fuck about their pillowcases. In fact, he laughs breathlessly, teetering on insanity. His cock kicks and pulses with the biting heat in his gut.
He pulls back from Khaslana’s ear and hauls him bodily into each thrust until he’s sure the impact of his hips is going to leave marks on Khaslana's ass.
Khaslana’s gasping like he’s drowning, tear tracks dripping down his cheeks and moaning with reckless abandon. Phainon’s orgasm approaches with blinding strength, so hot he can taste it.
He drags his eyes from Khaslana's shining, heaving back all the way to where his hole is burning hot and clenching frantically around him, puffy and abused. Sat above it, his tail curls and bounces, jolting with each thrust, twitching like he can’t control it– like he stopped trying.
Phainon tongues his canines, hungry and feral for it, high on Khaslana’s moans that are approaching wrecked yells.
Panicked, through a sob like he can’t believe it himself, Khaslana moans, “I’m g-gonna–!”
Phainon's laugh is louder, meaner, his chest burning hot and bright with a feral satisfaction that has his nails biting mercilessly into Khaslana's skin.
“Go ahead,” he pants. Then, lower, dark and elated, "I won't stop.”
Khaslana writhes there on Phainon’s cock, into his hands, not trying to escape but not fucking himself back into the pain either. Not like he could move much anyways, not with how Phainon’s manhandling him, grip unyielding and uncaring of what Khaslana tries.
Phainon surveys Khaslana’s struggle with predatory satisfaction, the boiling heat swimming in his brain melting away his filter and spilling filth from his tongue.
His hips stutter.
“I’m close,” he grits out, and it sounds like a promise, like a threat. “I’ll f-fuck you full of my cum ‘til you’re- ‘til you’re bursting. ‘til you get pregnant.”
The coil in Phainon’s navel tightens, and tightens, and tightens. He falls forward, arms lifting to hug Khaslana below his ribs, until his back is plastered to Phainon’s front, shifting on his knees to mount Khaslana like a dog and fuck into him with relentless, spine-tingling ferocity.
Khaslana’s tail jerks and spasms where it’s trapped between their sweaty bodies, but Phainon pays it no mind, lost completely in the dizzying, rippling heat around his cock and the smell of sex and desperation flooding his nose.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants. Stretches his neck up to dig his teeth into Khaslana’s shoulder, growling around the mouthful of sex-flushed skin as his hips pump once, twice, three times, the ecstasy building and building–
Before slamming in as deep as he can go, until Phainon feels like he’s carving a space out for himself in Khaslana’s stomach, and the coil snaps.
The iron tang of blood explodes on Phainon’s tongue as he bites clean through Khaslana’s skin and comes with a loud, destroyed moan, blinding heat razing him to the ground and turning him numb from head to toe. Like a flash bang going off, his ears ring and his vision whitens, the whole of him narrowing down to their point of connection with tunneled focus.
His hips kick in a valiant attempt to pump his cum deeper even though there’s nowhere left to go, balls deep, and he holds Khaslana there, growling and huffing as he unloads rope after rope into him.
Get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant, his hindbrain chants, as if he could will it into existence, defy anatomy and somehow accomplish it through sheer will alone.
It feels like it lasts an eternity, his entire body numb and tingling with the fire that eats away at his nerves and pulses through his cock in unending waves. Like a spark through steel wool, he is burnt to ash in the sweetest smoldering bliss, where nothing else matters but the body against his and the warmth on his tongue.
Phainon comes to with his hips still giving minute thrusts, jerks of aftershocks more than anything, trying to fuck deeper into his own mess and the burning clutch of Khaslana’s body.
Ah. Speaking of Khaslana.
Phainon unlatches his teeth and tenderly licks away the blood that rises to the surface. Oops. Beneath him, Khaslana is trembling from head to toe, muscles spasming uncontrollably and shuddering around Phainon’s softening cock.
Languidly, Phainon releases the hold of one of his arms to pet down Khaslana’s stomach, feeling for his cock, intent on having him finish with Phainon still inside. He’s sensitive, too, but if Khaslana needs it, Phainon’ll fuck him to completion.
Except, Khaslana’s soft, and there’s streaks of cum dotting his navel. With a blink, Phainon reaches down and feels across the bedsheets. Ah, yup. He came again.
“Untouched, twice in a row?” Phainon rasps, and wipes his fingers on a dry spot. "That's a record.”
He wraps his arm back around Khaslana's stomach, and kisses his nape. Then his shoulders, the left to the right, walking a path across flushed, sweaty skin. Phainon nuzzles into the back of his head, blond hair fanning out with his exhale. Breathes in the faint scent of his shampoo beneath all the musk.
“You're so good to me,” Phainon mumbles. Starts petting his thumbs up and down Khaslana's ribs, waiting for the shivering to stop.
All the while, he doesn’t pull out, nor pull back. He would move if Khaslana asked, but judging by his silence thus far, Khaslana seems unable to. Or he’s too exhausted to. Either way, Phainon holds them both there, and only moves when the trembling subsides to the occasional shudder of aftershocks.
He slides a hand up, flattens his palms across Khaslana's chest and navel, and slowly shifts them to the side, away from the soiled part of the sheets. Khaslana goes willingly, if not limply, his only protest being a small, breathy grunt.
Phainon maneuvers them until they’re basically spooning, with Phainon kept held safely inside Khaslana’s body. Plugging up all that cum, keeping it deep where it belongs.
Every wayward clench sends another zing of oversensitivity racing up his nerves, but he ignores it. Nuzzles into Khaslana’s nape and enjoys the sticky warmth between them and how Khaslana's tail has wrapped around his thigh– Keeping him close, it seems. Phainon smiles.
“You with me yet?” He kisses the bite mark, sucking gently at it until Khaslana’s back twitches and he kicks lightly at Phainon’s calf.
“You're an animal,” he says back, voice a rough gravel, hoarse from overuse.
“On the contrary.” Phainon smirks, just to be an asshole. “You're the one with the ears and tail.”
Khaslana groans. Tries to roll himself further away from Phainon’s clutches but is stopped when the arms around him tighten. “You fucked me like a feral dog.”
Phainon hums in agreement, shameless. “Sorry,” he says, unapologetic, “You were super hot.”
Khaslana doesn’t grace that with a response. He shifts to throw a dirty look over his shoulder at Phainon, only one glaring eye visible from the curtain of his blond bangs. Phainon catches his gaze with a smile that creases his eyes.
“You know I can’t actually get pregnant.” He scowls, ears an annoyed, flustered press against his head. “Right?”
Phainon pouts, lifts himself enough to prop his chin on Khaslana’s shoulder. “Well, have we sincerely tried before?”
Khaslana kicks him again, quite firmly this time. Phainon takes it with the serenity of someone who just had a mind-blowing orgasm and is still swimming in the endorphins.
“Pull out, Phainon.” Khaslana's tail unwinds from Phainon's thigh, as if giving him the room to do just that.
Phainon attempts his best puppy dog eyes. Starts gingerly rubbing his thumb back and forth across the taut skin of Khaslana’s navel.
Khaslana's glare is unwavering, his tail thumping a repeated rhythm of annoyance, flicking against Phainon’s skin with purpose.
A staring contest commences, a battle of wills and wants. It lasts for fifteen seconds before Phainon drapes himself over Khaslana’s side with a dramatic whine.
“Okay, fine.” Reluctantly, Phainon pulls back, sliding his arms from around Khaslana to settle a hand on his waist and begin the process of pulling a soft cock out of a sensitive ass.
The both of them grimace during it, but Phainon’s too busy mourning the loss of the cozy heat and slick wetness– as well as his endeavor to keep Khaslana full of his cum for as long as possible– to mind it that much.
Khaslana huffs once they’re separated. His tail swishes, back and forth and back and forth, enticing Phainon’s eyes to stray downwards, sticking stubbornly to where Khaslana is red and sore.
His ass is stained crimson, blooms of blood beneath the skin remaining from Phainon’s eager hips. Faint finger-shaped bruises decorate the skin above it.
“Wow.” Phainon swallows roughly. Exhausted, sleep a nearby suggestion on the horizon, he says, “We should go another round.”
Khaslana's voice filters through his horny brain fog, tired but firm.
“Aftercare me,” he demands. Then a pause, in which his cheeks flush a faint red. “Freak.”
Phainon's eyes dart back up from where he was watching his seed trickle out of Khaslana’s hole in a trance.
He spots the flush growing on his cheeks and grins, utterly shit-eating. “You liked it.”
But, he obeys nonetheless. Anything for Khaslana.
Mutual, comfortable silence, until:
“Also, we should talk about the feminiz–”
Phainon is shoved bodily into the bathroom.