Friday, December 15, 2017

Naughty or Nice? - Part Two

Getting Into the Season – 
Part Two
Read Part One Here

Francis, curious, followed behind him, diving between the fir branches. He ducked under the string of flickering lights circling the tree, wondering what Basil had in mind. It really was magical, hidden in the pine needles, with the lights twinkling like stars in the fragrant shadows. He breathed it all in, letting it fill and fuel him.

Pointing to a branch above them, Basil tilted his head curiously. “Do you think this branch will hold you?”

Francis shrugged. “It did, when I was hanging lights.” He laughed and reached up to grab it.

“Uh-uh.” The sound was quick and scolding. “Not with your hands.”

Francis looked at the man quizzically. But, when the man just made a twirling motion with his finger, it dawned on Francis. He wanted him to hang from the branch by his feet? Francis frowned thoughtfully. Okay. He couldn’t really see why the man wanted that, but he also couldn’t see why not. So he flew up, grabbing the branch with his talons and letting himself hang down on the branch. He wiggled a bit, making room for himself against the rough tree trunk, bending the other prickly branches with his thick-skinned, dense body. He bent his knees before shaking the branch a bit, making the needles rustle and the lights clank. “Should hold.”

“Good.” Basil flew up to hover by his feet. “Then hold on.” He took the garland in his hand and wrapped it around the branch, then around Francis’s feet, and all the way down his legs.

Francis looked up skeptically, feeling a little like an anachronistic ornament from holidays past dangling on the decorated tree. “I really don’t think that’s going to help hold me up.”

Basil chuckled. “I doubt it will; this is more to remind you to keep a good grip.”

Francis shot him a daring look. “Think you can make me lose my grip?” Cocky cupid.

Waggling his eyebrows, Basil smirked. “Let’s see, shall we?” He reached for Francis’s belt. Francis never really liked clothes. Would rather go without. But Faere Trade was a safe haven for people and nudity tended to make some folks uncomfortable. So he put on the uniform every day and figured it a small price to pay in order to work somewhere he didn’t have to wear a glamour.

But, now, with the metallic clink of his belt and the soft slide of leather sounding loud in the empty café, he kinda got the appeal. Feeling like an odd gift, he felt Basil’s hands push fabric down, reaching into his trousers to pull out his semi-hard sex. Francis inhaled sharply, when Basil ran his finger over the craggy ridges in his curved cock. When he fluttered forward, the slight wind from his wings hitting Francis, and took his length into his mouth, Francis shivered and felt his toes almost flex. He caught himself, locking his knees and gripping the branch again harder. Basil chuckled against his dick, the sound reverberating over the sensitive skin. Cocky, indeed.

Well, two could play this game.


Feeling blood rush to both his cock and his head, he stared at Basil’s zipper. Clenching his talons, his tried to figure out how to undo the man’s pants without shredding them. Shaking his head, he growled. “Take off your pants or walk out of here without them.” Those were the only options.

Basil laughed, keeping Francis deep in his mouth, even as he reached down to let his pants slide off and tumble to the ground. Hallelujah. Francis stared at his rising, rosy sex and licked his lips.

But, on that slick slide, he touched the tip of his canines. Oh yeah. He’d never actually slept with anyone who wasn’t a gargoyle, whose skin couldn’t handle the scrape and bite of talons and teeth. But looking at the long, pink flesh, Francis knew Basil couldn’t.

So, he licked the silken skin over Basil’s hard shaft, the contradiction fascinating on his tongue. His taste, his scent, was different too, instead of earthy and rich, it was musky and smooth. He arched his neck, so he could run the full length of his tongue over the full length of Basil’s dick, swirling over the tip.

Basil, midair, faltered, pushing his cock against Francis’s mouth. “Careful.” Francis laid a hand against the man’s hip, to hold him from slipping too close to his teeth. But the touch just made him want to grab and squeeze. If Basil were a gargoyle, Francis would have dug his talons deep, scratched his stony skin, leaving grooves in his wake.

Instead, he tempered his touch, focusing his mind on the softness of the man’s flesh against his. He groaned and felt his palm sink into that give. It was so much like the sliding, yielding warmth of Basil’s mouth on his cock. Francis wanted to feel that slide here too.

But he didn’t know how. Not without hurting this man he only wanted to pleasure. But he wanted to try.

So he let his thumb and two fingers wrap around the man’s heavy, thick sex, making sure their pointed tips avoided the tender length. Tentatively, he moved them over that sleek skin. Hearing, feeling, Basil’s groan in response felt amazing, making him brave. He stroked him again, then again, harder and faster.

Again, the man’s wings flapped wildly, the sound of rustling feathers in the fir rewarding, making his dick thrust against Francis’s mouth. Francis licked his lips, craving that taste. Looking at his hand around Basil’s cock, he bit his lip. 

Feeling the threatening tip of his tooth against his lip, Francis thoughtfully bit down. Basil’s body couldn’t handle Francis’s bite. But Francis’s could.

He coughed, his throat feeling tense. “Tell me if this is okay.” Stretching and tucking his lips to cover all his teeth, Francis bent forward and took the tip of the man’s length into his mouth.

Basil groaned, arching into Francis, slipping further past his lips. “It’s amazing.”

Good. Relaxing, Francis let himself be overwhelmed by the feeling of Basil on him, in him. Inhaling, he felt surrounded by the scent and taste of him. He let the heat he felt flicker within fan into a flame. He felt consumed by it and welcomed it.

Wanting more, he thrust his hips and sucked harder, forcing them both deeper. He felt his teeth sink into his lips, pricking the skin, the small, sharp pain thrilling as it shivered through his senses. His feet clutched the branch holding him up as he struggled to keep his grip on Basil taut but teasing. He writhed against the scratchy garland twisted around his legs, against the sweet-smelling needles pricking him everywhere, and felt his climax barrel close.

He swallowed hard, his mouth loving Basil’s dick. With a grunting groan, Basil tensed, his hips pushing into lips, as he came, spilling himself down Francis’s throat. The bitter, slightly sweet taste filled Francis’s senses and, with his own echoing groan, he came into Basil’s waiting mouth too.

His talons slipped and scraped against the branch, making him falter and fall on a choked cry.

Basil caught him by the ankles before drifting slowly to lay him on the ground. Francis felt the rich soil and twist of roots beneath him as Basil, soft and warm, curled up next to him. He took a shaky breath and held the man close. Looking up at the towering, twinkling tree above them, he sighed. Maybe he wasn’t made for this season—or this season wasn’t made for him—but he really did love this time of year.

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