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“So. I was wondering. What d’you think about me putting things in your snussy?”
On one hand, he should have been used to that kind of out-of-pocket shit from his beloved girlfriend. He had met her, after all. This was the woman who’d once flashed him in the middle of battle and then asked him in written English in a letter to Heaven if he actually had two dicks. On the other hand, she’d caught him with a cigarette in one hand and a riveting paper on dioxygen difluoride in the other, so it took him a moment to register first, that he was being spoken to, and second, what she’d actually said.
“My what,” he said flatly, stubbing the cigarette out.
She tilted her head back to look at him upside-down from her perch more or less in his lap, setting her phone aside. He caught something rather...fleshy on the screen, and a flick of his tongue caught the hint of faint arousal. Ah. That explained some things. “Snussy. You know. Snake pussy.”
And her words explained the rest, even though now he was pretty sure his face was on fire. “Please never call it that again.”
She rolled her eye fondly. “Fiiine.”
“Thank you,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to his own phone just to have something to stare blankly at while he collected his thoughts. He’d never dismissed anything she said out of hand and he certainly wasn’t going to start now, even if the idea set a swarm of butterflies alight in his chest. He was fairly sure they were good butterflies, but...it had been a long time since he’d tried that with someone else, or with more than his own fingers. He couldn’t remember if he’d liked it.
But it was Cherri asking. Cherri, who loved him. She’d make it good.
He shifted his tail, coiling the tip around her ankle. “…Did you mean tonight, or…?”
She’d been watching him while he thought; now she tilted her head, brow creasing. “You wanna do it?”
“It’s been a few years,”—decades—“but I wouldn’t mind, if it’s ssomething you’d like to try.” Actually, the more he thought about it, the less he minded; she was always so incredibly talented with those small, strong hands of hers. The thought of them slipping into his vent—well. He couldn’t deny the little shiver of arousal down his spine. “Just, uh, be gentle. It’s...delicate in there.”
She nodded, her face serious. Her hand slid gently over his hip, more reassuring than intentionally sexual, but he swallowed anyway. “I’ll be careful,” she promised. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
Well, now that just plain wasn’t true. He still had the scars and the finger-shaped bruises to prove it. There’d been teeth marks still visible on his collarbone that morning. “Liar.”
“...Not like that.”
There was color in her cheeks now, and he ducked down to flick his tongue against that blush because he knew it’d make her squeak. Heaven was fine, but his love giggling in his arms while insisting she was not ticklish was what made eternity worth it. Pulling away was the hardest thing he’d ever done, but…
“So.” He cleared his throat. “Would you like to do—that—tonight?”
She blinked, and then her eye gleamed in a way that sent heat through his veins. “Hell yeah, if you’re down.”
When she looked at him like that, he was down for almost anything. (Almost. She’d taken him on a tour of her sex toy collection and he’d had to preemptively veto anything spiky.) Accordingly, he slithered out of bed towards the bathroom. “...Give me a moment to shower.”
“Don’t break the tub again!” she called.
“That was one time! And your fault!” In his defense, the hotel bathtubs were lovely clawfoot things that were extremely not made to hold the weight of two people having energetic sex, especially when one of them was over six hundred pounds of solid muscle. Also in his defense, a slick and soapy and eager Cherri Bomb was a temptation fit to fell actual angels, and—halo aside—he was but a man.
“Was not!” she yelled back, but by this time he’d closed the door and turned the water on.
By the time he emerged—from a bathtub that was still in one piece, thank you—she was sitting on the edge of the bed digging through a selection of harnesses and dildos, with a bottle of lube on the nightstand. She was also naked, which was almost enough to distract him from the fact that some of the latter were as long as her forearm. Her confidence their first time made a great deal of retroactive sense.
Thankfully, the one she held up was of a much more reasonable size. “What do you think of this?”
He nodded, mouth suddenly dry. It had been so long since he’d been fucked, but he remembered the vulnerability he’d felt. The mental image of Cherri buckling on one of those harnesses—the black sparkly one, maybe—and thrusting into him just as carefully as she’d said she would, the way it’d feel to have her inside him—yes, he wanted that. “Please?”
She exhaled, and he wondered if she was a little nervous too. “Okay.”
The harness was not sparkly, but it was black, and the sight of her naked except for a bunch of leather straps and a pink dildo was something he’d sear into his memory forever. He lay back on the bed, watching her with hungry eyes as she straddled his hips. It was extraordinarily tempting to haul her up for a kiss, but he knew that if he started down that road they’d both be utterly distracted and they did, in fact, have plans.
Not that this stopped her. She stretched up, pressing those glorious breasts against his chest, to steal a slow kiss. He melted into it, letting his hands come to rest lightly on her ass. When she drew back again his fingers trailed along her thighs, and she breathed, “Good boy. Keep your hands there for now.”
The words sent a rush of heat through him; he huffed out a breath that turned into a moan as she ran her hands down the planes of his stomach, nails scratching just hard enough to sting. By the time she reached his hips his vent was slick and half open, the muscles around it fluttering restlessly. She grinned at him, sharp and bright, and ran her thumb around the edge. He let out a strangled, undignified noise.
“You good?”
He nodded rapidly. “Yes—God, yes. You can keep going—oh.” She’d slipped one finger in, delicate, and he was so slick there was almost no resistance. Her eye on his face, she curled it upwards to rub against the thin membrane separating his dicks from his cloaca, and he whined and arched into it. “Fuck, yesss, like that…”
“You want more?” At his frantic nod, a second finger joined the first, and his grip tightened on her thighs. It still wasn’t a stretch, but the way those clever fingers felt inside him, slow and steady and curious—Christ, he couldn’t imagine how it’d feel when she started to really fuck him. She must have been thinking along the same lines, because she ground against him and breathed, “God damn, baby, you’re soaked already. You gonna let those dicks out for me?”
“If you keep doing that, yess.”
She grinned, hot and bright, and added a third finger. Now it was a stretch. Now he bucked, tail lashing against the mattress, and she squeezed hard with her thighs and gasped at how he moved against her. He could taste her arousal in the air. “Fuck, bet I could fit my whole hand in here.”
Her whole fist? He whined, cocks everting in a slick rush. “God,” he said, and didn’t know what he was praying for. The way she was moving inside him was rapidly eroding his ability to form any sort of coherent thoughts beyond that he just wanted more. “God, yess, yesss, please...”
“Damn, you’re so pretty like this,” she murmured. He fought the urge to hide his blushing face in his hood, but he couldn’t do the same for his full-body tremor or the way his claws dug into the meat of her thighs. The tip of his tail thwacked frantically against the sheets. She squirmed against him, her grin widening. “You like that, yeah? Like me calling you pretty?”
“Yes,” he panted. Fuck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this wet. This open. And she thought he was pretty? When she was the most beautiful, the most radiant creature he’d seen on either side of the grave?
“Good, ‘cause I don’t lie. You look like a million Hellbucks, baby.” Her voice lowered to a purr that made his spine buzz. “So good for me. You gonna let me fuck you?”
He sucked in a breath. “My love,” he rasped shakily, “I am prepared to beg for it.”
Her grin was unholy. Diabolical. The best thing he’d ever seen. “Don’t think you have to go that far.” Then she was pulling her fingers out, leaving him so empty that he whimpered; the sight of her slicking up her strap with a generous handful of lube and his own fluids was almost too much to bear. His cocks throbbed, leaking untouched against his stomach.
Then she pressed the strap into him. Slowly at first, but he couldn’t help clenching and then all of a sudden he was full. He yelped, raking his claws down her thighs and leaving red welts behind; she made an incoherent noise, her hips jerking once before she froze. “Shit, shit, sorry—”
He was pretty sure he was seeing stars. His head flopped down to the pillow as he breathed through it, tail trembling. “Fuck.”
She braced herself over him; the movement shifted the toy inside him, and he whined. She bit her lip. “Too much?”
It was, rather—but in the best way. He’d forgotten. How had he forgotten how much he liked this? (Well, there hadn’t been someone he trusted to give it to him—no. He wasn’t going to dwell on his decades of loneliness when the woman he loved was here, her hair spilling over his chest and her eye locked on his.) He huffed out a breath, experimentally rocking his hips. “No, no, just give me a moment—oh, yesssss...”
She exhaled slowly, moving with him in shallow thrusts. She looked as overwhelmed as he felt, lips parted and eye glistening as she gazed down at him. “Touch me,” she blurted out, and then she added, “Please,” and his hands flew to her ass to steady her as she sank deeper into him.
And then, finally, she started to fuck him. And it was perfect.
Each thrust drove her deeper into him, slick and hard and just this side of too much, grinding against the underside of his still-untouched cocks. A rough stream of praise fell from her lips, almost drowned out by his unfettered cries. “Yeah, that’s it, looks so good, fuck, gotta get me one of those double-ended dildos—”
“Surprised you don’t—oh—have one—”
“Can’t find it—”
He hissed a laugh that turned into a moan. “Typical! No—God—sssense of organiza—ah!” The open-palmed smack to the soft part of his hip sent a shock of pleasure through him almost harder than the way she fucked him; he clawed up her back in response to tangle in her hair. Not to pull, Christ no—he was not the one in control here and he knew it—but because if he didn’t hang onto something he was going to explode.
She grinned at him, reaching between their bodies to wrap a hand around one of his cocks. The ripple of her fingers made him moan; his wings flexed where his weight pinned them to the bed. “You’re still talking. Must need it harder, huh?”
“Yes.”
Harder was relative; she didn’t try to go too deep, didn’t pound into him with wild abandon. He’d asked her to be careful, and as he clenched around the unforgiving silicone with a sob of pleasure he was grateful for it. The way she stroked his cock more than made up for it, pumping him steadily and doing something with her thumb and his spines that made him gasp. He wanted to tell her he loved her, she was the best thing to ever happen to him, she made this corner of Hell into a second Heaven, but all that came out were increasingly breathless cries of, “Cherri—Cherri, yesfuckyesplease—”
He came with a shriek, back arching and wings flapping frantically. It felt like it went on for a small eternity, Cherri’s strap pumping him through it in time with her stroking hand. Both cocks spilled across his chest in hot spurts as he shook and sobbed, tears in his eyes.
“Good Lord,” he wheezed, when he could speak again. Some of his own cum had gotten in his chest eye, but the eye cap over it was doing its job. Good thing, because he wasn’t sure he could move enough to wipe it away.
Cherri pulled out slowly, petting down his sides. He whimpered at the empty feeling, and she shushed him with a soft kiss. “That was incredible. Thought you were gonna break the strap. You did so good for me, baby.”
He blinked at her, the words filtering slowly through the post-orgasmic fog. “...I did?” A sniffle snuck through before he found himself grinning. “I could be better.”
Her eye lit up with interest. “Yeah?”
His limbs still weren’t quite obeying him, but he could slide his hands down her back in one long sweep to the straps at her hips. The taste of her arousal was heavy on the air. He couldn’t let that stand, not on his honor as a gentleman. “I can’t help but notice that you are sstill unssatissfied,” he breathed. “Come up here.”
“Aww, fuck yeah.” She climbed off him, unbuckling her harness and tossing it to the side in one smooth motion. It would have been entrancing at any other time, but pegging him had very clearly been doing it for her too and she tasted so good he couldn’t focus on anything else. His mouth watered as he fumbled to make sure his hood was out of the way; she’d accidentally put her knee on it once and it wasn’t the sort of pain that he liked.
Then her gloriously freckled thighs were bracketing his face and he once again forgot how to think. He splayed his hands across her ass and swept his gaze up along the length of her body, up to where her eye was locked onto his, bright as a burning sun. He thought about telling her how much he loved her again, how much he ached to serve at her pleasure.
But there were better things to do with his mouth.
A depressingly high number of people throughout his decades in Hell had taken one look at his cobra hood and three-inch fangs and made the sensible decision that they didn’t want their genitalia near his face, thank you. But Cherri? Cherri had never been sensible in her life, and he adored her for it. He tongued her clit and she shuddered atop him, legs trembling. Her moan was music to his ears; he hummed in response,opening his mouth a little wider so she could feel just a hint of fang, and she gasped. “Christ—teasin’ me—” Oh, she’d scream if he nicked her, but this was all he was willing to risk and they both knew it. His potential venom wasn’t something he was comfortable playing around with.
Then he licked down over her folds and into her for a proper fucking meal. She cried out, back arching, and if he hadn’t been holding her he might have had a bloody nose to show for his efforts. Shame, that. But it meant he could focus on her sweet, desperate cries, the way she clenched and sobbed and swore as her climax loomed. “Fuckfuckfuuu-uck, Pen—!”
She yowled as she came, the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and he groaned as he licked her through it. He could die happy like this, sated from his own orgasm with the taste of her imprinted into his soul. She panted atop him as her tremors faded, one hand on the headboard and the other drifting down to pet his halo. “Shit fuck god damn,” she breathed. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
He hummed smugly against her, feeling her twitch against his tongue. Her breath caught, but then she dashed his brief hopes by rolling off him and saying—shakily—“Think we both need a shower or something, though. You coming?”
He shook his head slowly, idly licking his lips clean. “After you. I think I need a moment before my tail obeys me.”
She was already on her way to the bathroom, but she cast him a concerned look over her shoulder. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”
Oh, it warmed his heart. He smiled at her, helplessly. “Not in the slightest. You treated me so well, love.” It had entirely erased the memory of previous encounters, honestly. Who needed to remember dissatisfying, painful fucks in back alleys or spread across furniture when they could instead dwell upon the glory of Cherri’s body atop their own? Not him, certainly.
Once they’d both cleaned up, he slipped back into bed and held her close, nuzzling into her hair. In between slow, lazy kisses, he did his best to impress upon her how much he’d loved it. How much he loved her. How much he definitely wanted to do it again.
(“So you really are a fan of me playing with your snunt—?”
“Not if you call it that!”)