by Ivy Asher
His other hand comes up and buries in my hair, and he tugs lightly at the strands. I groan in approval at the tender sting of pain. Now that I’m spread obscenely for him, the current position lets Rook hit all kinds of new things inside of me. He gets to work again, and I’m a mewling, begging, complimentary mess in no time.
“Are you ready?” Rook asks me, his lips caressing the shell of my ear.
I have no idea what he’s asking me, but Rook could tell me to ignore a real-life Baby Yoda right now in this moment and I’d do it. He’s that fucking good.
I moan, and Rook must take that as a yes because the next thing I know, his train of feathers are compressing together, and his tail flips up between his legs and slips between us. It caresses the base of my filled pussy, and my breath hitches when it grazes over my clit.
I can feel the soft feathers first, and then I get the firm, smooth scales as he applies pressure, the end of his tail pressing down on me in a weirdly perfect way and making me jolt. The new sensations take everything to a whole new level, and I start to wonder how I’ll ever be the same after this.
He’s going to turn me into some sex-crazed puddle of blissed out mush, I just know it.
Meh, there are worse ways to go.
He never slows his pace, as his tail works to tease me, the perfect combination of firm and soft, flicking and pressing. He fucks me like lightning striking down against the earth, so fast that the thunder of my moans has to chase it to catch up.
Rook pulls my hair lightly, just enough to have me tilting my head back so he can nip and suck on my neck. His tail moves again, gliding from my clit to wrap behind me, and then it starts to slowly circle my asshole. Oh, fuck.
The movement matches up with the circles his tongue is creating on my skin before he nips at a spot and then sucks it into his mouth. He tilts my hips, his hand squeezing my ass tight enough to leave a bruise, and this new angle hits a perfect spot inside of me while my clit is being stimulated with every drag of his cock. When his tail presses just inside my back entrance, I’m a goner.
My sudden orgasm is thunderous as it booms through me, and I’m completely lost to sensation. I feel like I’m slowly breaking apart into a million atoms that are just exploding out into the room, and then I’m suddenly snapping back into place, screaming out his name.
“Yes!” Rook roars victoriously, like my current state is all he’s ever needed in life. I feel his pleasure jet inside of me as he climaxes, filling me up with the red-hot cum that all male cockatrices have.
Rook’s release feels more scorching than anything I’ve ever felt before, but that doesn’t surprise me. Female cockatrices are built to withstand any level of heat, so it doesn’t burn so much as warms my insides in a way that makes me feel like I’ll be able to glow too. It’s like he’s coating me from the inside out, bathing me in our mutual bliss. It’s an incredible feeling. I’ve never felt so satisfied, safe, or cherished as I do right now.
Thrusting up, he buries himself deeply one last time, like he wants to ensure every last drop hits its mark. His actions almost feel like they’re sitting on the cusp of a claiming, but I dismiss that thought and chalk it up to just the most epic sex. Ever.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I’ve officially been fucked speechless. I couldn’t even talk if I wanted to. My brain refuses to form words, so I just end up mumbling gibberish and then sighing in contentment as the last of my orgasm ripples away.
Chuckling, Rook untangles his hand from my hair and drops his hold back to my ass where his tail is wrapped around me possessively, the feathers petting the curve of my butt cheeks. I pull my hands from my knees and wrap my arms around his neck again.
We just stand there, tangled against each other, breathing it all in. Rook nuzzles my neck, and I lean into it like some lovesick teenager. I feel shattered, but in the best possible way.
How have I gone my whole life without knowing that this is how it can be between two people? I get it now. I get why people call sex intimate. It was never that way for me before. Fun, pleasurable, disappointing—but never intimate.
I realize that my tail has gotten in on the petting action too, and my tail feathers are currently running up the outside of his thigh and back down again.
“That was…” Rook starts.
“A-muh-zen,” I slur at the same time he exhales, “Perfect.”
Can orgasms make you high? I feel so fucking floaty right now.
I pat him on the back like I’m wordlessly saying well done, and Rook chuffs out a laugh. I can only imagine the blissed out smile that must be stretched across my face, but I can’t actually feel my face to tell for sure, so whatevs.
As if he’s not ready to let me go yet, Rook keeps me in his arms as he picks me up off the wall and carries me to the iron cot that’s been built to hang out of the wall. He sits down on the flat mattress, keeping me straddled in his lap.
My knees hit the cool metal of the bed frame, and I wonder how long he’s going to stay inside of me...not that I’m complaining. He could probably announce that we’re going to now stay like this forever, and I’d bump knuckles with him and be cool with it. I side-eye myself at that realization. Get a grip, Sinclair. No dick should have that much power.
His tail runs its feathers up my spine in a soothing caress, and Rook pushes my hair back from my face. It wasn’t really in my face to begin with, so I get all giddy at the thought that he just did it because he wanted to touch me. I mean, I am pretty amazing, so I don’t blame him, but it’s good that he agrees.
With expertise, he sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and then kisses me slowly. My brows shoot up with surprise even as my eyes close as he sweeps his tongue inside my mouth with tender reverence. I’ve never had a guy want to makeout after sex.
Holding his arms, I cling to him as I kiss him back, suddenly nervous. Rook has me feeling like I’m some kind of blushing virgin, when the reality is that I’m anything but. Apparently, I need to re-evaluate my expectations though, because holy sex god, my eyes have now been opened, and my vagina is forever changed.
After a few minutes of the sweetest makeout session ever, Rook pulls away from my lips, and a whimper of protest leaves me. He laughs softly. “What are you thinking, Sunrise?” he asks softly, his turquoise eyes flicking over my face.
“That my vagina wants to worship you,” I reply breathily. When I realize what I’ve said, I slam a hand over my mouth.
Really, brain? First we can’t talk and then you let that loose? Keep that shit inside!
Rook’s soft laugh turns into more of a bark, and he runs his hands through my hair again. I sit smugly in his lap, because I can tell that he’s really drawn to my colors.
“Did you know your hair color flashes when you come hard?”
“It does?” I ask, partly surprised and a little bit embarrassed.
I look at my ombré locks like they’ve betrayed my confidence.
“Mmm-hmm,” he purrs as he plays with the ends of my hair. “It might be one of my favorite things. Right after being inside of you and hearing you scream my name.”
I blush, and a giggle escapes me that’s really high-pitched even to my own ears.
Fucking hell, Sinclair, are you capable of playing it cool?
“So I’ve made your favorite things list already?” I tease, all too aware that he’s still inside of me.
Once again, our back and forth is taking on a level of intimacy that I’m not sure how to navigate. He touches me so affectionately; it’s like he thinks I’m the one that should be worshipped. He’s relaxed beneath me, his hair glowing softly, radiating pure contentment. The fucked up thing is...I feel the same way.
It’s bad enough that I just shit where I eat, or rather, fucked where I need to hide out, but if anyone finds out about this, that could cause serious issues. The other guards didn’t like me hurting one of their own, so I seriously doubt fucking one is going to go over any better.
Rook lean
s in and nips at my shoulder, his hips rocking slightly. Is he seriously getting hard already? How is that even possible?
I’m about to start riding him so I can test out just how hard he is—you know, for science—when static crackles to life in the cell, and a male voice rings out. “Rook, are you still here?”
Rook and I both jump as the sound intrudes on our moment and slams us both back to reality.
More static. “I thought you left a while ago, but someone said your truck is still in the lot. We could use some help if you’re still around,” the voice blasts from the speaker of Rook’s walkie-talkie.
He quickly lifts me off him and scrambles for the radio clipped to his utility belt. He takes a deep breath like he’s trying to compose himself and then presses down on a button on the side of the radio. “Yeah, Mac, I’m still here. I was getting my laundry done. What’s up?”
Static crackles. “Can you come to Block Black? You’ll know what’s up when you get here.”
“On my way,” Rook calls out casually, and then the radio goes silent. “Shit,” he curses as he starts looking around the cell for all of his clothes.
I get up and hand him his underwear and pants. He gives me a grateful smile and starts pulling everything on.
“I’m sorry,” he offers as he takes his shirt from my outstretched hands.
“It’s fine,” I reassure him.
I wonder for a moment if getting my laundry done is some kind of code. Do the guards fuck inmates often? Or do they really just have inmates do their laundry for them? I want to ask, but Rook is clearly in a hurry.
“How are you going to explain the no button thing?” I ask, as I watch him pull on his shirt that now gapes down the middle and shows off his muscular chest and abs, every single button long gone.
“It’s fine. Weird shit happens all the time when you work in a supernatural prison. Your cell block is nothing. The deeper levels and the other buildings for the serious criminals...shit is crazy over there,” he replies, and once again, I wonder what that means exactly.
He’s in such a rush that he hasn’t noticed that I’ve swapped his name tag again as a surprise and snatched the plain one again. He unknowingly brought me all the supplies I need on his last visit, and his name right now is surrounded by dick shaped jewels. The dicks glimmer under the bad lighting above us, and I wish I could see his face when he discovers them. I have to put a hand over my mouth to hide my smile.
I watch him wrap his belt around his waist and start buckling it into place. I stand there awkwardly, feeling his cooled and drying cum on my thigh, and all I suddenly want to do is take a hot shower. I love having sex bareback, but it’s messy. At least my shifter birth control is getting put to use. I was in quite the dry spell before this.
“Hey, can one of the perks of fucking a guard be after-sex showers?” I ask casually as he checks himself over to make sure he has everything that he’s supposed to.
He closes the distance between us in two strides and pecks me on the lips before turning toward the door. “I’ll make sure you get cleaned...tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I bark out, irritated.
“Yeah, I like the idea of my cum dripping down your thighs, and your body covered in my marks and scent,” the arrogant asshole says with a possessive smirk. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you all kinds of cleaned up tomorrow.”
His tone indicates that getting all cleaned up really means a whole lot of dirty shit. A chill of eager anticipation breezes over me so that I can’t even continue to be irritated about him making me wait.
“See you tomorrow, Sunrise.” With that, the door to my cell creaks open, and he walks out, shutting it solidly behind him.
I watch the empty space where he just was for a beat, and then something he said registers.
Wait. Marks?
Did that fucker mark me?
I quickly replay everything we just did in my head. Did he bite me or something and I didn’t notice because the orgasms were that good? I walk over to pick up the broken iron pipe that I’ve been digging with. All of the scraping I’ve done to it has created a shiny spot. I hold it in front of me like it’s a mirror and try to see through the really bad, convoluted metallic reflection, hoping to discover just what in the hell Rook meant by marks.
I run it all over my neck and face, and then I spot it. I wipe the pipe and then the base of my neck to make sure it’s not dirt or something, but nope, this motherfucker has given me a fucking necklace of hickeys.
I’m going to kill him.
After I fuck him one more time though, because why not take advantage of all of those skills?
But after that, he’s definitely going down...on me...and then for sure he’s a dead man.
9
The asshole cockatrice has been gone for days.
I know this, because he left his damn watch behind. It’s been three goddamn days that I’ve been sitting in this fucking solitary cell, with only a rusted water fountain to try to clean up with. That thing barely trickles out, and the water is browner than a cockatrice’s shit stain.
I’ve been steeping in my own spite, every irritant like an abrasive gash against my temper.
I’m crusty. I still reek of sex. I’ve nearly run out of all my snacks. I’m still stuck in solitary confinement. And Rook. Hasn’t. Come. Back.
He visited me every day, staying hours upon hours at a time. He made me feel like we were friends. Like he cared. Like we had a connection. Then we fucked, and it was the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. And then he just...bailed.
Was that walkie-talkie thing totally contrived?
I just imagine all his prison guard buddies with a system in place, where they give a false alarm to each other so that they can leave after sex. Is that what he did? Hit it and quit it?
Every hour that I’m left to stew alone with some of his cum still crusted on my skin that I can’t get off without an adequate shower, I feel angrier and angrier. I’m also hurt, and that pisses me off even more.
I don’t want to have hurt feelings over that asshole. He left me after fucking me, so what? He tricked me with his tender kisses and soft caresses and attentive words, but why should I care? I’m not going to, I tell myself. I order myself not to. I refuse to go all heartbroken girl over him. I’m tougher than that.
The moment I get out of this cell, I will let him have it, and then I’ll find a different guard to fuck, just to prove to myself and him that Rook doesn’t mean anything to me either.
That’ll teach him.
Stupid hair-glowing, head-wobbling, feather-fanning cockatrice!
“Wow. It reeks like sex in there. Is that how you’re passing the time?”
I jump at the voice on the other side of my cell door and bolt to my feet. I stare at the unfamiliar female through the now open slot on the door, and I’m immediately drawn to her. I find my feet moving closer before I even note that I’ve walked across the room to meet her. There’s a prison guard with her, wearing a blue uniform with a hood covering his face, but he’s quiet as he stays in the shadows, his posture decidedly bored despite me not being able to see him.
Looking through the small opening in the door, I see that the female is dressed in a red uniform much like my gray one. She has dark hair at the roots that changes to an awesome electric teal color that I instantly appreciate, and she has an equally beautiful face. She’s leaning against a silver cart filled with food, and my stomach grumbles.
“UberEats?” I quip. “I placed my order ages ago. Not a good way to earn a tip.”
The girl smiles. “Sorry. You gave me the wrong address,” she replies, playing along.
I give myself a mock forehead slap. “Of course! I forgot to put 101 Naughty Corner Solitary Avenue.”
“Happens all the time,” she says before motioning down to the tray. “What’ll it be?”
I stand on my tiptoes so I can see the array of food options she has through the door’s window. “I guess...the plastic-w
rapped sandwich, a bruised banana, the bag of crushed chips, the stale cookies, and some room-temp bottled water. Except multiply that order by five,” I tell her. “Solitary makes me hungry.”
With a soft laugh, she starts passing me things through the slot on the door clearly meant for food—which in my case is an assumption, because until now, no one has delivered food to me other than Rook. I take the items one after the other. “What did you do to end up in here?” she asks. “You seem...not terrible. Not like some of the others I meet down here, anyway.”
“I just joined in on a prison yard fight, turned into my beast, and knocked over some guards,” I tell her with a shrug as I place my goods on the floor. “What about you? How’d you get put on food duty?”
“Just lucky I guess,” she smirks.
“What are you?” I ask before I can stop myself. I’m drawn to her in this really strange way, and yet I have no idea what she is.
“Late,” she answers, sidestepping my question. “I gotta go back to the other level and deliver more food. See you around.”
“Wait, what’s your name?” I ask, watching as she turns to wheel the cart back the way she came.
“Selena. You?”
“Sinclair.”
Her scent finally hits me, and a smile crosses my face. “Ooh,” I exclaim, surprised. “I see what you are now.” Damn. No wonder I was drawn to her. She’s a siren. Her very nature draws people in and drives them crazy. “Work it, girl,” I say, fanning myself and tossing her a sultry smile and a wink. “It’s getting hot in here.”
She laughs, the sound melodic. “Nice to meet you, Sinclair. Don’t eat all that in one sitting.”
I shrug. “No promises,” I tell her. “Oh, and I’m a huge fan of Pop Rocks candy. If you see any, do a girl a favor,” I add, and she nods with a smile before disappearing into the shadows with her escort.
As soon as she’s gone, I change my uniform into the same red color that she was wearing, wishing I could be put on food duty too. Think of all the snacks I could nab!
