Struck by Lightning

by Fel Fern

  Then the dragon shifter rolled him on his back and pinned his hands above his head, the motion so quick, it was done before he could draw another breath. He swallowed, staring at the gorgeous male above him, not interrupting, waiting for what Striker would do next. He didn’t miss the erection poking against the striped blue fabric of Striker’s boxers.

  “You snore,” Striker remarked.

  “What?” he blurted. “No way.”

  “Yes, you do. I even recorded it with my phone. It’s a cute sound, so I don’t mind.”

  Striker did what? Sometimes, Ron didn’t really get Striker at all. “That’s, like, an invasion of privacy or something.”

  “Don’t worry. The recording and pictures I took are all for my personal viewing.”

  Ron blinked rapidly at Striker and coughed. Time for a change of topic. While Striker wasn’t looking, he’d find a way to delete those.

  “I fainted, didn’t I?” he asked. “Is that why you brought me here? You must think I’m some kind of pussy.”

  “Never.” Striker leaned in and shut him up with a kiss.

  Ron leaned forward, greedy to be on the receiving end. Striker kissed his mouth without apology, liked he already owned Ron’s body, or gave him a prelude of how their love making would be—rough and fast. He moaned, and Striker took that opportunity to slip his tongue down his throat. Striker used one hand to keep his hands above his head, and used the other to undo his jeans.

  The dragon shifter pulled his prick out, thumbed away the pre-cum from the tip, before closing his fingers over the shaft and beginning to stroke him.

  He groaned as Striker pulled his mouth away, only to plant more kisses on the side of his jaw, his neck. Striker worked his prick faster now and his breaths came out harsh. He panted, thrusting his hips upward. Ron knew he wouldn’t last long. Striker’s hand felt so good on his prick.

  “Striker, I’m coming.”

  “Go ahead.” Striker stole another kiss, before pinching his cockhead. He let out a whimper. His mind hazed as he climaxed, spilling his seed all over Striker’s fingers. Dazed, he looked at Striker’s dick, outlined by the thin piece of boxer fabric, and licked his lips.

  “So, are you going to fuck me now?”

  Striker let out a growl, which should have frightened him but it only turned him on. “I should feed you first, before rutting you.”

  “Feed me?” he asked, mind clearing.

  “Dinner before sex.”

  “Are you serious?” he asked. “What about your, um…?” He blushed, aware he’d been looking at Striker’s dick.

  Striker flashed him a disarming smile that created butterflies in his belly. Amazing how Striker made him feel like a shy and eager teenager again, but this time, whatever this was between them wasn’t one-sided attraction. Dangerous. That was the right word to describe Striker, because if things went south, Striker wasn’t just capable of breaking his heart. Worse, shatter it, but that was negative thinking.

  Then Striker opened his mouth and said the words that would stay with Ron forever.

  “I’ll wait until later. What’s an hour or two, when I’ve been waiting for you my entire life?”

  Chapter 7

  “This pizza is, um, nice,” Ron said, nibbling on his slice of pepperoni.

  Seated on the opposite side of the table, Striker grunted. “I know. Frozen pizza’s not the most perfect food for a first date, but there wasn’t time to go on a hunt. Next time, I’ll bring a deer or wild boar.”

  Ron froze and stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  Striker frowned. “You don’t like either?”

  “Never had them, but it’s just, everything’s still a little surreal, you know? And your home, it’s amazing. Look at this place,” Ron said, looking around his dining room. “These rooms that have been cut into rock. Who did them?”

  “My ancestors. Lightning dragon shifters have been living in this mountain for centuries.”

  “Plural? There used to be more of you?” Ron asked.

  This was good. His human seemed interested in his history, and he was the same, hungry for more knowledge about Ron’s life, Ron’s likes and dislikes.

  “In the past, over a hundred years ago, there was a clan of us, but like the other dragons, my ancestors fought among themselves. That thinned the bloodline, until there’s only one lightning dragon left per generation. I’m not even what you’d consider a pure-bred dragon shifter, either. My mother was human.”

  “I think I saw a picture of her in your room,” Ron said. “You have her hair. What about your dad?”

  “Died before I was born. He challenged another dragon shifter in another territory, but before he left, he gave my mother directions to this place. She passed away after I turned eighteen. She might not be a shifter, but she’d also been mated to my father. She wanted to follow him to death, I think, but waited long enough for me to turn into an adult.”

  “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”

  Striker finished his last slice of pizza. “No need to apologize. I’ve been living on my own all this time, I’ve gotten used to it. We dragons aren’t as sociable as other paranormals, so online platforms were a way for us to keep in touch.”

  “I get it, I think. Are all your guild mates in BeastWorld dragon shifters?”

  “Yeah. What about you? You never talked about your folks.”

  “Well, there’s nothing to talk about. The only communication we had were the weekly envelopes of my allowance they left on the kitchen table. I was raised by a nanny, until I graduated from high school and told them I didn’t need their support anymore.”

  No wonder they were drawn to each other. Both of them knew what it felt like growing up, feeling isolated from the rest of the world, Striker up here in his lonely mountain, and Ron practically raising himself.

  “We’re kind of alike in some ways, aren’t we?” Ron murmured, taking a sip of his water. “I’m glad you brought me here, Striker. That we got to have this conversation gives me the chance to know you better.”

  “Don’t talk like we’re only going to do this once. We’ll have a thousand more conversations like this if you want.”

  They finished dinner, and Ron insisted on helping wash the dishes in the kitchen. “It’s the least I can do, you made dinner after all,” Ron said.

  “You mean shoving the pizza in an oven?” he asked.

  Ron laughed. “Best dinner I’ve had in ages, because I didn’t eat it alone.”

  Hearing the wistful longing in Ron’s tone, he approached his mate, cupped Ron’s jaw, and ran his fingers over the smooth skin. Ron set the plate he was washing down to look up at him.

  “You’re no longer alone, Ron. We have each other now, and if you let me, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of for the rest of your life.”

  “There you go again, saying words like that,” Ron said with a nervous laugh.

  Realizing Ron wanted space, he took a step back, frowning, wondering what the hell he did wrong. The human busied himself, but eventually, there was no other utensils or cutleries to wash. Ron finally faced him.

  “You don’t think I’m serious,” he stated. His dragon felt restless, not understanding what just happened.

  “You just met me, Striker. You can’t blurt out stuff like that.”

  “No, we’ve known each other for a while now even though we’ve only met for the first time today. Get this in that confused head of yours. I’ve never lied to you once.” Striker took a breath, let the truth out, even if it might scare Ron away. “You’re my mate.”

  “Me? You’re certain?”

  Ron harbored insecurities, doubts, could work on his self-confidence a little more, Striker decided. He’d never been good with words anyway, so he pulled Ron close to him, crushed Ron’s mouth with his own. It didn’t take long for Ron to kiss him back, fiercely, passionately, with a hunger that equaled his own.

  “Let’s continue where we left off earlier and I’ll show you. This sexy litt
le body of yours and the heart that beats in here,” he said, touching Ron’s chest, “they’ve always belonged to me.”

  Ron laughed, but it was a carefree sound. “Cocky, possessive dragon. Mine.”

  He approved of that. “Yours,” he agreed, then tugged Ron toward the bedroom.

  * * * *

  “You’re still wearing clothes,” Striker said, voice barely human as they entered the bedroom.

  “I am. Are you going to rip them off me?” Ron asked, feeling cheeky, playful. Excited. Striker’s words still echoed in his head and he realized he was sick of questioning himself and the possibility of a future with this amazing dragon shifter. Ron refused to let his personal insecurities get in the way of his happiness anymore. Striker looking at him like he was most desirable man in the universe cleared up those doubts instantly.

  He must have taken too long, because Striker walked up to him and fisted his shirt. One tug and the fabric ripped. Ron dispensed with his pants and boxers, finally standing naked in front of Striker, whose gaze burned bright gold, like little orbs of sun set in his face. Striker peeled off his shirt, making Ron lick his lips.

  Before Striker could make the next move, Ron knelt in front of his dragon. A rumble of what sounded like approval emerged from Striker’s lips as Ron fumbled for the button of Striker’s jeans, then the zipper. Ron let out a breath as he pulled out Striker’s prick, and boy, was his golden dragon hung.

  Striker hooked his fingers into his hair, brought his face close so Ron’s lips touched his dick. Ron went to work. He stuck out his tongue, licked at the pre-cum gathered on Striker’s cockhead, tasting Striker’s need on his tongue. He closed one hand around the base of Striker’s cock as he opened his mouth and began to take Striker’s girth down his throat.

  He gagged on the first try, hollowed out his cheeks, and succeeded on the second. He didn’t have that much experience when it came to giving blow jobs, but Ron decided to make it up to Striker with enthusiasm. He sucked, licked, and ran his tongue over every ridge and bump of Striker’s gloriously long and thick dick.

  Striker groaned above him. “Hold still,” Striker commanded.

  He held his mouth open as Striker began thrusting his hips, fucking his mouth. It didn’t take long for Striker to let out a growl and empty his load. Ron took every drop, swallowing Striker’s jizz, his own dick rock-hard by the time Striker finished. Striker pulled his softening prick out and held a hand to him, which he took. Striker gave him a little push toward the bed.

  Ron squeaked, ended up on his back on the edge of the bed. He scooted further up as Striker finally took off his pants and boxers and crawled on top of him. They were all over each other. Lightning started from his thickening dick and went to every part of his body. Striker left little bites and kisses down the length of his body, which only served to turn the tiny flame in him into an inferno.

  He widened his eyes, seeing Striker beginning to get hard again. He read online that shifter lovers weren’t like human ones, that they recovered quickly, and he guessed that was true.

  “God,” he murmured when Striker finally reached his groin and licked him from root to tip slowly, like Striker was enjoying a lollipop.

  “So hard for me already, hmm. Tell me, baby. How badly do you want to come?” Striker asked, pulling his mouth away to start stroking his prick with his deft fingers.

  “Badly. Soon.”

  “You’ve got to wait, because I’ll get mad if you come without my permission. You can only come while I’m buried deep inside you, claiming that tight little ass as mine.”

  He groaned, incredibly aroused by the imagery. Ron nearly erupted then, but he held back, wanting to see how the game played out. If he looked at himself in the mirror the next morning, would he see the marks of Striker’s passion the night before? He shifted, so turned on that if Striker touched his prick again, he’ll definitely go off.

  Ron did the next best thing and repeated his question from earlier. He met Striker’s predatory gaze and asked, “So, will you fuck me now?”

  Chapter 8

  His mate, Striker mused, never failed to surprise him at every turn. He growled in approval. Right now, Striker’s dragon was in complete agreement with his human half.

  “I want you on all fours,” he ordered, wanting to go deep as possible.

  He helped Ron get into position. Striker grabbed pillows and placed them under Ron’s belly and raised Ron’s hips, so Ron’s ass was directly angled to his dick.

  “Perfect. Wait here while I get the lube,” he said, rushing to the bathroom. With the bottle retrieved, he returned to Ron, who hadn’t moved an inch. “Good boy.”

  He ran his hands possessively down Ron’s puckered entrance, balls, and long dick, the tip already leaking pre-cum. His mate was barely holding his climax in at his command. Striker smiled and uncapped the lube. He drizzled plenty down Ron’s hole, before working one finger in. Ron moaned in front of him, then playfully wiggled his ass. As he added a second digit, his own dick felt heavy between his legs, already at full mast. Striker couldn’t wait to give his mate the ride of his life.

  Patience, Striker told himself, widening Ron for his access. Deciding Ron was ready, he replaced digits with his prick and slid in, slowly and carefully. Fuck, Ron’s inner muscles clamped hard around his dick, but once he pushed past the thick ring of stubborn muscles, he managed to drive his way all the way to the hilt. His balls brushed against the curve of Ron’s ass.

  “Hurt?” Striker asked.

  “No, but you’re huge. So please, move?”

  Striker chuckled. So polite. Didn’t Ron know that he had all the power here? Whatever Ron wanted, he’d give, but first, Striker needed to rock Ron’s world and show his mate that he would be the only man allowed the privilege of claiming his ass, body, heart, and soul.

  “I’ll make you feel good in a second.”

  “Okay.”

  Striker tightened his hold on Ron’s hips and began to move. He started with a steady, slow pace at first, so Ron would get used to his size, before picking up the rhythm. He reduced them both to pants and other animal noises. Sweat dripped down his back. He went faster, deeper, encouraged by Ron’s pleas. Striker’s dragon moved with him. It felt like his soul could crawl out of his body and touch Ron’s. Each time their bodies collided, certainty filled him that this man was meant to complete him, his better half.

  Ron clawed at his sheets as Striker rutted him.

  “I never knew sex could be like this,” Ron said, sounding breathless. “Before, I always thought it was boring, just, you know, a couple of minutes, then it’s over.”

  “Then you’ve never been with a real man before.”

  Striker had his share of lovers in the past. After all, he was an adult shifter in his prime and had certain needs, but random encounters barely left him sated and always left him feeling all numb and empty after. Meaningless interactions but Ron was different. Rutting his mate filled him with primitive, possessive emotions, triggering his dragon’s in-built territorial instinct.

  Mine. That single word tore right through him, embedded itself deep in his heart. Before Ron, Striker felt like he’d been wandering aimlessly, going through the daily motions but now, he found a new purpose, a reason to live. Those days of envying others, of wondering if he’d live out the rest of his life in seclusion—those days were gone.

  Ron shaped his future, and Striker would make sure he was worthy of his amazing mate.

  Ron gasped as Striker shifted the angle of his hips. As he went for Ron’s sweet spot again, Ron’s whimpers sounded like music to his ears. At the same time, Striker reached for Ron’s prick and began to stroke.

  “Striker,” Ron whispered his name.

  “Go for it, baby.” At those words, Ron erupted, coating his fingers with cum.

  Striker pistoned in and out of Ron a couple more times. His abdominal muscles clenched as he let out a growl, filling Ron’s ass with his seed. Striker wasn’t done. They collapsed
on the bed, tangled in each other’s limbs. He brought his mate close to him, fixating his gaze on the slender curve of Ron’s neck.

  Ron speared fingers through his hair, smiling lazily at him. “Bite me.”

  Striker out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Ron, you understand what this means?”

  “You’ve been looking at my neck since dinner. If you bite me there, it means I’ll be your mate, right?”

  “There are no take-backs. We shifters mate for life.”

  “You said so yourself. That you knew I was yours. I felt it in my bones, too, but I was terrified, scared you’d someday wake up and wonder why you’re with a guy like me.”

  He snarled. “That will never happen. You have a low opinion of yourself, but that’s fine. We’ll change that. I’ll show you every day that we’re together that you’re the most special thing in the world to me. My treasure.”

  Ron blushed and clasped his fingers. Striker gave them a squeeze and waited.

  Ron nodded. “All of my life, I wondered if I’m consigned to spend it alone but after meeting you, I realized differently. That I was simply waiting for you. Striker, do it. Make it official.”

  Striker didn’t ask again. He unsheathed his fangs and bit down hard, drawing blood. Ron cried out but didn’t pull away, even after Striker pulled his mouth back and admired his handiwork, his personal brand and claim on his mate. This way, anyone, either human or paranormal, would know that Ron was his. Anyone who messed with Ron had to go through him first, and he wouldn’t show them an ounce of mercy.

  “That,” Ron began, “didn’t hurt as I initially thought. Is it done then?”

  “Not yet. You need to bite me back.”

  “Nice.” Ron looked thoughtful for a moment, then bit down on his left tricep, leaving his smaller mark there. His dragon pulsed to life and surged forward but not for a shift. The mating bond sprung up between them, and Ron gasped. So, his mate saw the golden threads binding them together, too.