on a whimper. Yeah, having a tail stroking your balls on vibrate mode did have the tendency to rob one of speech.
Suddenly Dillon jerked away. “Wha…?” Vik made a grab but closed on air. Another ninja skill, possibly. Teleportation, because Dillon crouched a few feet away, with a grin of pure seduction. Vik’s cock got harder.
“I know what you want.” Without further ado Dillon grabbed Vik’s tail, his tail! and ran his tongue over the sensitive tip. Homefire and brimstone! Lightning flashed behind Vik’s eyes. Oh damn. Better not let Dillon see fiery eyes!
Vik writhed on the floor. Damn, but the man knew how to lick tail. No one had given Vik a good tail licking since… Nope, not thinking about Big Blue now. Not, not, not!
“Home, that’s good!” Vik arched his back, offering more tail for the licking. This being could really suck demon tail, but now wasn’t the time to consider how he might have learned.
Dillon’s smallish body was perfectly formed, and his cock made a nice mouthful for Vik when they faced opposite directions. All the while Dillon moaned, chanted, groaned, and whined. Never for a moment was he ever still or quiet, even mumbling with his mouth full, adding a bit more sensation.
They wound up with Dillon on top of Vik, staring down like some avenging angel, the ends of his dark hair tickling Vik’s skin. Oh, an angel. An image to file away for later. The uneven stone floor—conjured to look like pile carpet—jabbed into Vik’s back. As stealthily as possible to avoid his date’s noticing, he summoned a thicker pile to the carpet, giving them a soft surface to romp on since Dillon didn’t seem in a hurry to take their adventures to an actual bed.
A quick bait and switch replaced the guy’s ordinary latex condoms with a pack of Inferno 3000s, “Heat protection for your erection.” Now was not the time to risk a meltdown to put the bubblegum incident to shame.
Their gazes locked. “I know what you want,” Dillon said again, tapping a fingertip against Vik’s hole a moment before he lined up something larger.
Oh, Home! Vik ran out of lube sometime last week and hadn’t restocked!
For Dillon, lack of lube didn’t pose a problem and he slid inside with ease. Huh? When had he lubed up? Damn, but Vik liked all these ninja skills!
Vik tucked his tail between his open legs and nudged Dillon’s opening. “Go for it,” Dillon murmured, setting up a punishing rhythm.
Only one other had ever said that. Vik plunged his tail inside, matching his speed with Dillon’s. Dillon’s groans echoed off the walls. Hot damn! Somehow he’d prepared himself without Vik knowing. Ninja skills were da bomb!
“That’s it!” Their skin slapped together, the ninja giving Vik what he hadn’t even known he needed.
Somehow they managed to lie half-on, half-off the couch. The next time Vik opened his eyes the ceiling grew closer. What the… Oh, beneath him the kitchen table squeaked and groaned.
At one point Vik gripped the conjured windowsill while Dillon pounded into him from behind. Damn, damn, damn, damn!
They wound up back on the floor.
“I’m coming!” Dillon roared.
Teeth sank into Vik’s neck! Fangs? Ohhh…
The world shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, each one reflecting an image of, not an overly-energetic surface-dweller, but the demon prince from long ago.
Dillon fell asleep in Vik’s arms. Vik buried his face in a mass of silky waves, comforted by a familiar, memory-tickling scent that danced away every time he tried to grasp on to the meaning. Oh, yeah. Nice.
Wait! Did his date smell of Hellfire and Brimstone #5?
“Wakey, wakey, sleepy head.”
Vik jerked awake. A disheveled Dillon stared down at him. Oh, Home! He’d meant to get up early and restore the apartment’s glamour. Instead, his overnighter stared at bare rock walls adorned with flickering torches, which now bathed his pale skin in gold.
One moment before Dillon would likely run screaming, he showed himself beauty personified. Oh well, if Vik would never see him again, he’d take a second chance at the honesty thing. “You’re gorgeous.”
“And that’s not a costume.” Dillon spoke matter-of-factly, stroking a finger against Vik’s horn. “You’re some kind of demon, aren’t you?”
“Ninjas are demons, too, aren’t they?” Vik really, really needed to get out more.
Dillon traced his fingers over the tips of Vik’s horns, inspiring a shudder, then plinked one of the ornate gold rings in Vik’s earlobe—his mark of rank. “We met at a costume party. I wore a costume.”
“You’re human?” How had Vik wound