Reprise - Continued

 

Kelas swallowed hard with effort to concentrate. To listen. To do as he was instructed. Jasi's breath came hot against his ear. It seemed to penetrate right through him and twist down his spine. The fingers inside were driving him mad—the catching claw, the stretching. Kelas whined as his prUt slipped forward a bit in his sheath and he just couldn't contain it any longer. There was a brief undertone of embarrassment that felt like a warm buzz in his scales but he was mostly too far gone into the moment to think or feel much other than the pleasure that was building and then coming--

 

His small prUt pushed at Ekor's fingers but there was still room for them in the opening even after it was everted. The pressure of Jasi's fingers then was just overwhelming, and he had barely enough time to process that he was everted, before his cock was leaking and his body was overtaken by his orgasm.

 

He grasped onto Ekor as if to anchor himself. There was a bit of desperation in the action as the pleasure spasmed through his body. He buried his face against Ekor's neck ridge and barely avoided to bite down on it out of instinct to clench onto something.

 

As the spasms began to subside Kelas' mind was still hazy, but he realized he need not hold on so desperately. Ekor's arms were strong around him. His nose fit just nicely below one of Ekor's large neck scales, pressed into the softer flesh there, his lips against the hard slender ridge of Ekor's freckled collar bone.

 

He nuzzled there for a moment taking in the feel of their bodies being so close. Jasi's scent was so strong. So delicious. He couldn't recall, through the haze, that he'd ever had his face so close to a man's body if it wasn't to suck his prUt, that his head had been cradled this way; such care taken while pain and pleasure were given.

 

Had the pleasure of his orgasm not made him feel so warm and good his thoughts could have spiraled into darker places—that perhaps he did not deserve this. But even before that could whisper to him he reminded himself that Jasi was in control now. Jasi wanted this—wanted him—and wanted to handle him specifically this way.

 

“Thank you,” Kelas whispered. He could hardly find his voice at all.

 

His compulsion was to pull away now, to make himself small, to bow his head low and ask to pleasure his partner well—for in Kelas's mind his own pleasure was secondary and if he was given that gift then he surely must give even more pleasure to his partner; surely it was owed.

 

He reigned in the impulse sensing that that sort of behavior was not truly the way he needed to show his submission and desire to please. He must listen. Jasi would instruct him. A feeling of relief washed away at the pleasure and brought his senses back to him. His urgency was satisfied, and there was no sense of anxiety that he had come too soon, or that Jasi would be displeased with him somehow; punish him for allowing his own pleasure to come first.

 

Kelas did not move. He stayed where he was tuning his breathing to the rise and fall of Jasi's chest, feeling his warmth, letting his scent wash over him. He knew that he should keep waiting and give his trust to Jasi, to obey when Jasi would have him move or reposition himself or do something more: But his desire to obey in this new way was being pushed at by his old feeling that he did not deserve such gentleness and care, even if it was something he truly craved.

 

"Pleassse, tell me what to do, Jasi,” Kelas said, a certain pleading tone to his voice.