Love and Dragons

Hi, everybody! So, this chapter gets a little intense. Physical punishment and lots of tongue getting into some interesting places. You've sorta been warned. Have fun!

After a brief stop at home to shower and change clothes, Gautier sped on over to Mol's house. His park job was crooked, but he couldn't care less as he marched up to the door, pounding on it for all he was worth. Being that dragons were quite strong, the noise he made by banging on the door was satisfyingly loud.

Having no business to protect, and no reputation to keep clean, Mol went on his merry way for the rest of the afternoon. He hadn’t seen how livid his little act of revenge had made Gautier, but he had asked for it. After wandering about for a while –he never did get to do that during daylight hours very often- he went home for a long nap. After all, he was supposed to be in bed, anyway. Throwing on some cozy pants and a plain shirt, he dove into his bed and curled up with his dragon under one arm.

The knock at the door was tremendous, and as it so happened, the entire household was asleep. It took a long time for someone answer the door, and when the door finally opened, a small, white haired kid, who looked no more than twenty, opened the door while rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Wearing nothing but a t-shirt, the hem of which reached down just to his thighs, it was obvious he’d come right from bed. Blinking blearily up at the man in the door, he merely stood there.

The last thing that Gautier had been expecting to see was such a young man answering the door. The boy was clearly fresh out of sleep, so Gautier didn't linger. Patting him on the head, the dragon stepped past him and into the house. “Excuse me, son. I'm here to see Molocai, I know the way, thank you. Go to bed.” True to his word, Gautier did know the way, and he climbed the stairs with grim determination. Mol had it coming, and he was damn sure going to get it. He opened the door to Mol's bedroom almost silently, shutting it behind him just as carefully. Apparently, that little stunt at Torrid had tired Mol out. He was almost cute enough for Gautier to reconsider the beating he was planning to give. Almost.



Gautier approached the bed and seized one slim ankle, dragging his lover out of his bed and onto the floor. “Have a nice nap, idiot?” Metal clinked softly as Gautier worked off his belt, a snazzy number made of black leather and studded with the occasional silver bead. He flicked his wrist experimentally, causing the belt to make a sharp, loud crack. Perfect. “I'm going to beat you until I'm no longer irritated, understand?”

Drawn out of deep sleep, Mol was rather perturbed to find himself dragged from his nest of blankets. He let out a groan of protest, and landed on the floor with an ‘Oof!’ Part of him didn’t really register that it was Gautier waking him up so cruelly. Dragging by way of limb or hair was usually Lukah’s preferred method of getting him out of bed when he was being stubborn. It wasn’t until he heard his lover’s voice that the afternoon came back to him, and his eye widened as he focused in on the belt Gautier was taking off. The thick, leather, studded belt. “Oh. Hello. How was your day?” he asked calmly, but he jumped as soon as Gautier cracked the belt.

“How was my day? Oh, fine. I enjoyed explaining to my remaining clients that you aren't off your rocker. And cleaning your cooling jizz out of my seven hundred dollar chair was just a joy.” He didn't even bother to try and get Mol to turn over and put his ass in the air. Gautier was sure that he'd figure out the best position to be in, soon enough. That kind of belt, that thick, with the studs, would raise lovely welts through clothing, anywhere it struck. He was already looking forward to easing the ache of those marks with his tongue, when this was over. Raising the belt, Gautier brought it down over and over against Mol's body, catching fresh parts of him as he tried to squirm out of the belt's path. The muscles in Gautier's arm stood out in sharp definition as he spared no force taking out his frustrations on Mol's tender skin. Before long, Gautier's cheeks were flushed with a healthy mix of exertion and arousal, his eyes bright despite the contacts that hid their true color.

“Thought you’d enjoy that,” came Mol’s sarcastic response, squeezed in right before the belt came down across his side and part of his stomach. “FUCK!” he hollered, and fuck was right. That belt made contact with his body with all of Gautier’s strength behind it, and pain radiated through his entire body like a shock wave. There was unrestrained strength in that blow, and Mol knew that Gautier wasn’t kidding around. Barely, he dodged the next blow, because he wasn’t even recovered from the first, and already Gautier was bringing the belt down again. The next fell hard across his arm and chest, and Mol let out another cry, cursing as another one of those shock waves shuddered through him. It took the next blow, which landed across his thighs and MUCH too close to parts he wanted to keep safe, for him to flip over and take the next on his back. He howled, sure that Gautier’s strength and the belt had stripped flesh away. Scrambling on all fours, he attempted escape toward his bedroom doors.

“Get back here!” Gautier snarled, sinking his fingers into Mol's hair and yanking him back into position. There would be no escape for Mol, not now. Not when Gautier was finally releasing his frustration. Honestly, he was enjoying this, especially now that the most of the strikes were falling on Mol's delectable ass. The blows continued raining down with the force of Gautier's anger, the sound of the belt and Mol's cries loud in the room. “Louder!” the dragon demanded, laying a perfect strike down the crack of his lover's ass, the sound of it beautiful despite the barrier of cloth between leather and skin. “Let me hear your voice, Molocai, maybe I'll show you mercy.” Bullshit. Gautier wasn't going to stop until he was done, and that would be a while in coming.

Tears were streaming down Mol’s cheeks. He couldn’t help them. With every strike of that belt Mol’s entire body tensed and jolted, the pain of leather and studs bordering on unbearable, and his thin layer of clothing might as well have not even been there. Already parts of his lower back and ass were going numb. With Gautier’s hand still fisted painfully hard in his hair, he could do nothing but struggle and scream, two things, it just so happened, that he was very good at. Gautier told him to scream louder, and he screamed louder, tears streaming down his face and nails digging into the carpet. At some point he lost the strength to even struggle, and he was reduced to squirming. “I’m sorry, Gautier! I’m sorry!” he sobbed between screams, his entire body starting to tremble. Dear gods, was Gautier giving him a beating.

Gautier was starting to sweat, his hair darker in color where it began to stick to his damp forehead. The rush of being able to hurt a man this way never failed to flip his switch, but his arm was tiring. The rhythm of his blows slowed, then stopped altogether, though Gautier kept a tight hold on the belt. He pulled Mol's head back so that he could see his face, wet with tears. Gorgeous. “You ever do something like that again, I'll beat you ten times worse than this. When I tell you to move, you fucking move, and I don't give a fuck if you're so hard it hurts, you wait for me to touch you. Unless you're touching that pretty, hard cock because I want to see you stroke off, you don't touch it, am I clear?” The tip of the belt dragged against the floor, rustling softly and fully ready to punish the slightest sign of disobedience.

Sniffing, his face a wash of tears, Mol nodded. “Yessir,” he said shakily, though with his throat screamed hoarse, it came out as more of a whisper. The only thing was that Mol was aching so bad he barely heard a word of what Gautier had told him to be clear upon. Fortunately it didn’t take much to deduct what he had said, but he’d think about that later. His body was screaming in agony, welts covering his flesh, bruises forming in places that had gone numb. He’d think about what he was and wasn’t supposed to do later. No more beating. He’d had enough, and was rather fond of the idea of getting back in Gautier’s favor, at that point. Tears still streaming, Mol reached out for Gautier’s leg. “M’sorry,” he pleaded, inching over to him so he could hold on to Gautier’s leg and nuzzle it. “I won’t do it again. I’m sorry, Gautier!”

Intoxicated on Mol's submission, Gautier laid the belt on the bed, trusting his point had been thoroughly made. His hands were tender as he stroked Mol's head, letting him nuzzle and plead for a moment. “Get up, Molocai,” he said softly, helping the other man rise to his feet. He kissed him then, tasting salt on Mol's lips while his tongue dominated that mouth just as completely as he'd dominated the body. Gautier pulled Mol's shirt up, only breaking the kiss to gently pull the shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. As expected, Mol was covered in welts that were fast turning into bruises. Gautier was quietly thrilled by that. He bent to tug Mol's pants to his ankles, then helped him step out of them. There were even more marks here, and looking at these injuries made Gautier's mouth start to fill with tingling liquid. “Stay still. It will ache a bit at first, but feel good quickly after.” He started at Mol's chest, laving over the first welt and getting it nice and wet. The special liquid he secreted made a barely audible hissing noise as it came into contact with injured skin. Instead of sitting and drying like most liquids tended to, it sunk into the injury, beginning to heal it. As Gautier kept licking, the wound continued to heal at a rapid pace, until finally, nothing remained. “Shall I continue?” he asked almost shyly, nervous about this first unveiling of some of his true power. Reactions to powers like this could be mixed. For all he knew, Mol would try to capture him and utilize his strengths on demand. It had happened to Gautier before.

Mol’s first reaction to the strange liquid Gautier was painting on him with his tongue was to jump back a bit. Along with how rough Gautier had been, the sizzling liquid, and the ache that came with it, Mol feared Gautier was trying to hurt him again. But soon after, when the numbness and bruising began to ease and disappear, he relaxed and looked on with wide, curious eyes. Eventually, the spot Gautier had covered healed completely, much faster than Mol’s own supernatural abilities would have done. He was left with a sense of awe, and a further curiosity of just what Gautier was. Never had he seen something like healing spit. As miffed as he was, Gautier’s magical spit was doing wonders for his aching, abused skin. “Uh… yes, please,” he managed, voice still hoarse.

Gautier smiled at the awed, but innocent look on Mol's face. It seemed he would be safe with him, after all. “I'm a silver dragon. We have many powers, including the ability to heal with our...ah...saliva.” It was a bit more complicated than that, since Gautier's healing power came from a system of glands separate from his salivary ones, but getting into that just then seemed pointless.

“A dragon?” Mol’s brows went impossibly high on his head. “Isn’t that… a little impossible?” As far as he knew, dragons were extinct, and had been for quite a while, ever since the last dragon was killed by that one bastard of a prince whom he shared half a heart with……..Or was that ‘Dragonheart’?

Gautier continued to lick his way down Mol's chest, healing every bruise he came across. “Lie down on the bed, on your stomach.” Now that the front was taken care of, it was time to get the back. And Gautier was going to enjoy it. “Spread your legs a little.” He knelt in that space between Mol's legs and bent over his back, doing the same thing he'd done to the injuries on the front. Mol's ass had taken the worst of it, and Gautier had to grin at his own handiwork. He had not taken it easy on his man. Not at all.

“I didn’t even know dragons were still around,” Mol said, still awed as he made his way over to the bed to lie down. He was still aching in a great number of places, his backside being the worst, and it hurt just to walk the couple steps over to his bed. Finally flopped onto his stomach, obediently spreading his thighs a bit, Mol let out a long, relaxed sigh.

Eventually, all that was left for Gautier to heal was the single thick welt that followed the crack of Mol's ass. Temptation struck. Gautier did his duty and licked the wound healed, but he didn't stop when the bruise faded. His tongue delved deeper while his hands gently spread the cheeks apart, baring tender flesh to the air and the liquid dripping copiously from Gautier's tongue. He licked the furled skin of Mol's hole, circling his agile tongue around it before pressing lightly, coaxing the muscle to relax and let him in.

Gautier’s weight on the bed was comforting, and Mol rested his head on his arms, thick curls flowing over his shoulders. “Wow. A dragon.” As the fact sunk in, Mol found himself both enthralled and delighted. That tongue of Gautier’s slid along his back, making him groan a bit as the horrible ache began to subside. A heavy, yet lazy sound, like a purr, began to come from Mol, and he closed his eyes so that he could further enjoy the feel of a hot, talented tongue along his aching backside. He’d taken quite a beating, and that Gautier cared enough about him to not only reveal his form, but to use healing powers on him as well, just gave him the warm fuzzies all over. “I was trying to guess what you were. The eyes, and the tongue and all. I thought you might be some kind of—Oooohhh…”

Mol’s train of thought was gone as soon as that tongue slid between his cheeks and wriggled against just the right spot. Arousal came instantly, and his cock firmed up nicely between his thighs. Dear gods, did he love that tongue. With a soft blush to his cheeks, Mol bit the inside of his lip as the tip of that tongue laved slickness over him, and begged entrance. Mol just couldn’t help himself. Lifting his hips up and out, he pushed back on the wet muscle, letting out a sweet little moan of approval.

Mol's scent would have made his arousal obvious to Gautier, even if he hadn't noticed the way his body was moving. He chuckled warmly, pleased that he hadn't overstepped his boundaries. Orally fixated didn't even begin to describe Gautier. He would have felt shortchanged if there was an area of his lover's body that his mouth wasn't allowed to visit. Pushing and wriggling, Gautier worked his tongue a few inches inside, thrusting in and out to make the muscle relax more quickly so that he could go deeper. The sounds Gautier was making were happy ones, the kind he made when he loved what he was doing, when he was getting turned on. He could have happily done that all night.



When he was able to, he curled his tongue just so, pressing on the little swelling of Mol's prostate, and rolling over it with the flex and agility only a tongue could manage. Pulling away with a little sigh of reluctance, Gautier patted Mol fondly on the hip. “Roll over now. I want to see your face while I do this.”

Mol let his eyes close as little tremors of pleasure ran through his entire body. He’d thought a lot about that tongue, ever since Gautier had first kissed him and let it slide into his throat. Now he was getting to see just what that tongue could do, and he was not disappointed. Lifting his hips a bit, he rocked back against the thrusting. When Gautier found his sweet spot and nudged up against it, Mol couldn’t help but curl his fingers in the blankets and moan. Gautier knew just where to go, just what to focus on, and Mol’s cock jerked and twitched with arousal.

He was completely healed, but the beating he’d sustained made him a bit skittish, and he jumped slightly at the pat to his hip. Realizing it was just a light pat, Mol blushed slightly and did what he was told. With a sweet smile that was almost a little shy, but not quite, Mol let his thighs fall open to Gautier. His erection rested firm against his stomach, leaking a silvery little pool onto his stomach, testament to just how eager he was to have that tongue back inside of him.

Gautier stared at the intensely gorgeous man in front of him, breath coming in short, excited pants. He had to take a moment to visibly control himself, swallowing hard. “Fantastic,” he breathed, his eyes roving over Mol's face and body with undisguised hunger. “Have you any idea how much I love seeing you get wet for me like this?” Trailing his fingers through the warm little puddle of precome on Mol's belly, Gautier growled softly. After he licked his fingers clean, Gautier settled down between Mol's legs again, making himself nice and comfortable. He fully intended to stay a while.



The first thing his tongue went for was that same slick spot his fingers had tested. He lapped up the rest of the fluid, then flicked his tongue over the lovely golden piercing in Mol's navel. The combination of flavors was almost too good to bear, judging by the low groan accompanied by a helpless thrust of Gautier's hips. Slowly moving back down Mol's body, Gautier curled his tongue around that beautiful cock, pulling the head between his lips for a brief little kiss. Mol's balls got similar attention, laved thoroughly by that enthusiastic tongue. Of course, Gautier was quickly distracted by the call of the piercing just below, and he rubbed his tongue over it hard, very nearly drunk on the taste of gold.



Returning to his original goal, Gautier plunged his tongue into Mol's ass, eyes trained on his face while he began shallowly fucking him with that wet muscle. With every inward thrust of his tongue, he flicked the tip of it over Mol's sweet spot, lashing it with remarkable precision.

Squirming beneath Gautier, Mol let little sounds of pleasure escape his lips, unashamed to vocalize just how amazing Gautier was making him feel. Dear gods did he love that tongue of his. His cheeks flushed furiously as it cleaned his come from his stomach, an act Mol thought to be incredibly erotic. Then that tongue was going everywhere, and Mol squirmed all the more. Amusement passed over his face when Gautier showed a keen interest in his metal adornments. He seemed to like to lick and fondle them with his tongue as much as he liked doing so with Mol’s body, and Mol grinned as a sudden thought popped into his head. A dragon that likes gold bits. How fitting!

That tongue snaked lower, and when it found its mark, Mol let out a wanton little cry. Beginning to take up a rhythm, pushing in and out and hitting his prostate every time, Mol spread his legs wider and reached down to tangle his fingers in Gautier’s hair. Face a wash of lust and desperation, Mol’s mouth fell open, and his breath came in little pants. All at once it was too much and not enough, and Mol’s hips set in slight motion to Gautier’s tongue. “Deeper, Gautier,” he breathed, the flush on his cheeks renewed.

Gautier shivered all over at that softly spoken request. Mol wanted it deeper? That could definitely be arranged. Slowly, so Mol wouldn't miss a thing, Gautier pushed just over a foot of tongue into that twitching passage. He drew it out just as slowly, then pressed back in, licking and curling his tongue the entire way. An interesting, unique sensation, to be sure. Gautier was moaning quietly, hands kneading Mol's thighs like a kitten during nursing. One hand crept upward, finding the hard cock laying up against Mol's stomach. He began to stroke it, using just enough pressure to tease, but not satisfy.

Mol felt every single inch slide up into him, and he leaned his head back and moaned, reaching up to bury his fingers in his own hair. Incredible. Just fucking incredible. Mol didn’t think he’d ever felt anything like it, and he’d felt quite a lot of things. Thighs trembling as Gautier drew back and pushed back in, Mol was quickly losing all coherent thought, his only attention on the slick slide of tongue in and out of him, so deep and so fucking amazing he could have cried. When Gautier’s hand snuck around his cock, it was all he could do not to pop off right there. Crying out, he bit his lip just to keep from doing so. “Oh gods!” he groaned, tossing his head a bit, his body in full motion with Gautier’s incredible tongue. “Gautier, I can’t—I can’t take this!” He was so close to coming, and Gautier’s hand on his cock was only teasing him.

It was clear how close Molocai was to orgasm. As much as Gautier wanted to keep on teasing him, bringing an end to things so soon wasn't in his game plan. After all, Gautier had said he was going to fuck Mol tonight, and he was still going to do that. He lifted his hand away first, then slid his tongue out. From the thorough tonguing he'd received, Mol was quite relaxed inside, which would be to both of their advantage, because Gautier couldn't wait any longer.



Standing, he quickly shucked off his clothing, desperate to feel his naked skin against Mol's. The man had him half-crazy with lust already, and he hadn't even fucked him yet. He didn't want to even think about how much he'd want him after he knew what it was like to be inside that hot, tight body. Gautier pressed his fingers beneath his jaw, rubbing those little glands in small circles. Sparks shot down his body at the stimulation, and those glands propelled liquid into his mouth, thick and vaguely sweet. Bending his head, he let that liquid drip from his mouth onto his waiting erection, shiny drops spilling down his shaft and coating it with slickness.



Appropriately lubricated, Gautier moved between Mol's thighs again, grabbing his hips to tilt them up just a hair. He rubbed his cock against the tiny hole he'd relaxed with his tongue, spreading a little bit of that added wetness around before he started to push in. His naturally cooler body temperature made Mol's heat feel even more amazing as it slowly swallowed every inch of his cock. Planning on dragging things out as long as he possibly could, Gautier began thrusting so slowly and gently, he was just barely moving inside Mol.

With no small amount of need in his eyes, Mol watched as Gautier carried out his rather intriguing method of lubricating himself. He shivered when Gautier’s hand wrapped around himself to coat that thick cock of his thoroughly. As he watched, his entire body shivering and trembling with anticipation, his hand snuck down his stomach to reach between his own thighs. Fingertips finding his already spit-slicked little hole, he tested just how much Gautier had worked him over with his tongue. His flesh was soft and wet, and just touching himself there made him gasp, a fresh little stream of pre-come dribbling from his cock. Already he was missing Gautier’s body, and just those few moments apart had Mol ready to start begging.

In short order, Gautier was back on the bed, and Mol slid his fingers away in favor of Gautier’s cock. He shuddered when he felt the slick head nudge his entrance, and his mouth opened in a little to let out a whimper. He wanted Gautier in him now, and he parted his thighs further- further than any man should have been able to spread. Mol was quite flexible. Quite. He didn’t have to wait long. Gautier pushed into him, and Mol let out a moan that was so sweet it could have made fucking flowers bloom. Capturing Gautier’s eyes, Mol’s own seemed to shift, the one not covered by the patch brightening, the pupil dilating, then splitting into two, like a bead of black oil separating in water. At the same time, subtle shifts in his face made him look a bit more feral, a bit more inhuman. It was eerie, and it was beautiful at the same time. “Kyllä, Gautier—just like that,” he breathed, reaching up just to touch him.

Gautier gasped, gaze riveted on what was going on in Mol's eye. “Beautiful, you're so perfect,” Gautier whispered, having never seen anything like that before. And he meant every word that he said. He couldn't puzzle out exactly what had changed in Mol's face, but the difference appealed to him on a deep, subconscious level. He nuzzled into Molocai's touch, relishing the way that those gentle fingers could rouse the strongest sensations in his body. Gautier kept his hips rolling smooth and easy, some of the urgency leeching slowly from his body with Mol's soft touch. Mol felt so good inside, Gautier just wanted to stay there forever, pumping deep inside him until the pure pleasure of it drove them both insane.



His vision blurred for a second, and he blinked rapidly to clear it. When he opened his eyes, his silver irises had expanded, nearly tripling in size. Since he couldn't tell what had happened, he wasn't alarmed. “Molocai, what are you?” Perhaps it wasn't the best time for conversation, but curiosity was eating him alive. Besides, it wasn't as if he was going anywhere.

Mol thought he was far from perfect- quite far, in fact, and he really didn’t see himself as beautiful, not that he thought he was ugly- but the comment made a smile spread over his face, pleased that his lover found him so attractive. “Not as perfect as you,” he said, touching Gautier’s cheek and running a thumb gently over it. Perfect was how Gautier was fucking him, how his hips kept that slow, even pace that was driving him mad. Every part of Mol was crying out for the man, every nerve on fire. How he had gotten so lucky was a question he knew he’d never be able to answer, but that didn’t matter now.

He observed Gautier’s eyes change as well, something that must also change with Gautier in the heat of any kind of passion, just as Mol’s did. Again they reminded him of two moons trapped in his head, silvery pools that Mol thought he could look into for, if not forever, a very long time. Then Gautier asked him a question Mol had hoped would not come up at an inconvenient time- such as this one. The topic of what Mol was, was a sensitive one. Not for Mol- he took pride, as did all others of his kind, in what they were. Others did not. Others had them killed, or tortured. Others hated them, and frankly, they had every right. For a moment, just a brief moment, Mol hesitated, and something that might have been fear shone in his eyes. It was gone so quickly it was barely noticeable, and Mol gave Gautier a lazy smile. “I’ll tell you later,” he said smoothly, and brought Gautier down to lay atop him. Cradling Gautier’s hips between his thighs, legs wrapping about his waist, Mol brought Gautier into a sweet kiss, his own hips moving to meet Gautier’s easy thrusts.

Since Gautier's attention was trained on Mol's beautiful face, he didn't miss that brief flash of fear in his eyes. That kiss distracted him perfectly, and the warm press of their bodies together was simply divine. For a moment, Gautier completely forgot the last minute or so. It came back to him slowly, and Gautier pulled away, stilling the motions of his hips. “Molocai, you can trust me,” Gautier assured, those big silver eyes full of sincerity. “I'm not going to run from you, or hurt you. Unless you deserve a good strapping, that is. I'm more than prepared to deliver you that.” He grinned, his cock flexing inside of Mol at the memory of earlier that night. “Tell me. It can't be all that bad, handsome.” And he wasn't going to resume the nice, slow fuck, until he found out what he wanted to know.

As soon as Gautier’s hips stopped that delicious motion and he pulled back, Mol started fussing. He made to pull him back, leaning forward to try and snake his arms around his neck, but Gautier wasn’t having any of it, and Gautier’s expression clearly stated that he wasn’t going to get any more of his cock until he spilled. Mol’s shoulders drooped, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he really did want to save the conversation for later, he might have even pouted. But Gautier’s eyes, even with their sternness, held trust and sincerity. It was only fair that he told him, since he’d shared what he was. Mol knew what it meant for a dragon to reveal themselves, and it was probably just as hard as it was for him. Sighing, Mol closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Well… you see... I’m Namenlos,” he said quietly. “One of the Nameless.” And blinking up at Gautier, he let that hang for a moment.

Gautier waited for Mol to go on. It quickly became clear that he wasn't going to. Sighing with exasperation, Gautier thrust into Mol hard a few times, then stopped again, like nothing had happened. “Molocai, you understand that you're not being very forthcoming with the information that I asked you for, yes? And I can't continue fucking you until you behave, handsome.” Gautier adopted an expression of regret, like he honestly couldn't fuck him until he got the proper information. As if it would be against some invisible rules. “Tell me the truth. The whole truth. In terms I can understand, please.”

Oh, yes, Mol thought when Gautier began thrusting again. He was relieved that Gautier seemed to be satisfied with the answer, and was ready to get back to fucking, but then all the sudden he stopped. “Oh, no,” he whined. Apparently Gautier was pulling out the dirty tricks, and Mol looked almost ready to cry with desperation. It was clear that there was no getting around it, and Gautier stated as much. How miserable. As a last resort, Mol gave him puppy eyes, but they had no effect on his lover whatsoever. Sighing, Mol paused to think about just what exactly he was going to tell him.

“Uh….” He started nervously, which wasn’t really a good start at all. “How do I put it? We’re… we’re big nasty creatures that eat people. And I don’t just mean we eat a good flank, we eat everything- bones, teeth, hair, and all.” Now that he’d had that out of the way, Mol seemed intent on blurting out everything he could in one long run-on sentence. “There aren’t very many of us left because one, just one of us can wipe out an entire town if we wanted to, and we’ve been hunted and tortured and have had terrible things done to us by just about every other species there is out there, and really they have every right because once we get going there’s really nothing that can stop us, and quite honestly we don’t really care to stop anyway because that’s just what we do, is just eat and kill and eat and kill, and in that order, too—but it really isn’t our fault, because you see we’re just wired that way, and no one ever gives us a chance or else they’d find that, when we’re not eating and killing, we’re actually very nice people.”

At that point, Mol sucked in a deep breath and bit his lip to hold it in, eye blinking largely up at Gautier with no small amount of anxiety over what he’d just blurted out.

Gautier listened attentively to Mol's rushed explanation, the words running around in his head in search of prior knowledge to connect to. Things clicked into place all of a sudden. There were stories, dozens of stories about Mol's kind. Most of them were legends used to frighten naughty dragon hatchlings into better behavior, but the legends that were passed between adults were very real, very gruesome accounts of these creatures and the threat they posed to others. Even to dragons. Since few other creatures were a true danger to a healthy adult dragon, Mol's kind were even more intimidating.



“Les Vides. I know of your kind. I never thought to meet one, and especially never thought I would live beyond that meeting.” He grinned, his hips beginning to move again, as slowly as before. What Mol had said was a bit of a shock, yes, but as far as Gautier was concerned, changed nothing. Fear was born out of a lack of understanding, and he was far from ignorant. Deep down, Gautier knew that he could trust Mol with anything. Including his tasty flesh.

Mol let out the breath he’d been holding in, relief flooding through him. He’d half expected Gautier to be completely turned off, and was pleasantly surprised that he was not. A smile crossed his face. “Well… we’re not hungry all the time,” he said teasingly. Sighing when Gautier began moving again, Mol sought to forget he’d even told Gautier about what he really was. There was a part of him that still felt awkward, still felt uncomfortable, but as he pulled Gautier’s body close to his own, he felt reassured.

Gautier's smile was full of affection, unchanged from before he knew what Mol was. He felt a pang of something in his chest, something foreign and vaguely painful. It almost felt like fondness. Somehow, instead of feeling fear or worry over the truth of Mol's origins, Gautier felt closer to him, more comfortable and safe. No one would be able to understand having their species hunted nearly to extinction, better than someone who had experienced exactly that.



All kinds of snuggly, Gautier peppered Mol's face with sweet little kisses and flicks of his tongue, their bodies as close as possible. Gautier was content to let the rocking of his hips be his only motion, though he couldn't resist adding a bit more force to his thrusts. Soaking up all of Mol's body heat felt very much like being spoiled, and Gautier was a sucker for things like that.

Arms curling around Gautier’s shoulders, Mol nudged Gautier and captured his mouth in a lazy kiss. That slow, even motion, punctuated with the most tantalizing snap of hips, lured Mol out of his self consciousness. It wasn’t the hard fuck he’d been itching for earlier, but he wasn’t craving that now. Every thrust drew a shallow gasp from Mol, and he began to rock his hips to meet Gautier’s. Hands roaming the span of his back, legs locked around his hips, Mol clung to Gautier and nuzzled his hair, kissed his temple, and every other part of the man he could reach. Gautier was doing him in the most exquisite way, and Mol didn’t think he’d ever experienced something so intimate.

This was definitely one of the most intense sexual encounters Gautier had ever had, for none of the reasons he would have expected. It was slow and easy, more relaxing and comforting than an urgent sprint to the finish. Gautier loved a good hard fuck, but this had its place, too. And it felt good, better than Gautier thought a slow fuck could feel. Little shivers made the muscles of his back ripple and tremble with every one of his gentle thrusts. Confusion crept into his expression. Lovemaking was a completely foreign concept to him, uncertainty making his rhythm falter. Instead of stopping, Gautier sought another of Mol's sweet and lazy kisses. He slipped his tongue deeply into Mol's mouth, fucking his throat in the same way he was fucking his ass.

Mol moaned around the slick organ, making his throat vibrate around it as it slid in and out. With Gautier thrusting into him and his tongue lodged in this throat, Mol didn’t think he’d ever felt so full in his life, and the feeling was amazing. His entire body was thrumming, seeming to tune itself to Gautier perfectly. Everything the man did sent shivers through him, made his cock jump and twitch, made his body heat like a furnace. Reaching for Gautier’s hand, he took it and guided it to his straining erection, instantly arching into the touch. He couldn’t speak to tell him what he wanted, but what with how hard he was, he didn’t think he needed to.

Gautier was distracted by the way that Mol's throat felt hugging his tongue, but he wasn't distracted enough to misunderstand what Mol wanted him to do. Mol's dick was as hard as Gautier had ever felt it, twitching eagerly against his palm as he squeezed gently. The tip released a syrupy dribble that ran down around his fingers, and he used that to slick his hand when he began stroking. His touch was firm now, businesslike, not teasing as it had been before. Gautier wanted to feel Mol come, feel clenching muscles around his erection and feel that lithe body arching and writhing under his.

Oh gods, that’s it, that’s it! Yesssss! Mol cried out, only with Gautier’s tongue in his throat the words came out as a throaty moan, all passion and lust. His hips began to rock forward into that motion as he impaled himself on Gautier’s cock and fucked his fist, all at the same time. With the added stimulation it was just too hard to hold back, even though Mol was trying his damndest. He was making little sounds now, helpless and completely lost to everything but Gautier. Arms wrapping around his neck, one hand buried in the back of his hair, Mol sought to bring them even closer together. It was too much, and, his body tightening around both of the parts of Gautier, he let out a long, sweet moan and spilled himself over Gautier’s hand.

The sounds Mol was making were just too sweet for Gautier to resist moaning right along with him. That climax was too fast for Gautier to follow. He just wasn't there yet, much as he wished he could have reached that peak right along with his lover. As it was, Gautier shuddered at the sensual pleasure of feeling Mol come, listening to those beautiful noises. He drew his mouth away from Mol's slowly, smiling down at him while he picked up the pace down below, moving faster and harder in an effort to bring himself the same feelings of pleasure he'd just given Mol. He was close, and it wasn't going to take much more for him to come.

Gautier’s hips began snapping at just the right time, spiking Mol’s orgasm and making him come that much harder. “Voi hyvä jumala!” he gasped when Gautier released his mouth, the last of his climax coating the both of their stomachs. Curiously enough, Mol’s cock stayed hard. It was not lost on him that Gautier had not come yet, and as his thrusts became faster, harder, Mol found his own desperation renewed. Curls bouncing against the pillow, mouth open, more of those noises came out of him, groans and moans and little nothings of encouragement.

Though he was quickly losing his mind to pleasure, Gautier noticed the way Mol's cock remained hard, the evidence of his climax warm all over the both of them. Intrigued by Mol's stamina, Gautier tempered his thrusts to be less selfish, making sure to graze Mol's sweet spot regularly. He had no problem with a man who was able to come more than once. It usually took Gautier a bit longer to reach his own orgasm than it took most other men, so Mol's stamina was actually a blessing. Gautier's hand returned to jacking Mol off, grip slippery now thanks to the previous orgasm. The next second, Gautier was coming, thrusting his cock as deep and hard into Mol as he could.

Mol didn’t anticipate Gautier’s sudden burst of energy. In fact, he was taken by complete surprise, and when his lover began wildly thrusting into him, Mol cried out loudly, and had to reach back to grip the pillows just to have something to cling to. If he reached for Gautier, he was afraid he’d be pounded right through the mattress. Mol’s cock was already leaking copiously, Gautier’s hand and his cock quickly bringing him toward another orgasm. Suddenly, he felt Gautier tense, felt him shoot liquid fire deep inside of him, and Mol couldn’t take it. He arched against Gautier, back curving gorgeously, and dear gods if it wasn’t more intense than the first. For the second time, Mol came, and throwing his head back, curls flying everywhere, he howled.

The second round of tightening muscles dragged Gautier's orgasm to the next level, pushing it to last just long enough to make Gautier lose a bit more control. The hand not loving Mol's cock was clutching his hip, and Gautier dug his fingers in more than hard enough to bruise. He couldn't bring himself to care. He was coming too hard, feeling too good to focus on anything else. As he came down, the slightly inhuman sound of his lover's voice caught his attention, sending a thrill up his spine. Gautier knew then he would never tire of hearing that noise, and resolved to cause Mol to make it as much as possible in the future. “Mmm,” he sighed, nuzzling Mol's shoulder and neck, tasting his skin and sweat and loving both. “Are you finished, or would you like to go again?” Gautier teased softly.

Mol could have gone again. He really could have- if Gautier had not just fucked the hell out of him already. His flesh never tired of such activity, but for the moment, Mol was completely satisfied. Having fallen back against the pillows again, he panted to try and catch his breath, arms coming around Gautier once more to hold him, to run fingers through his blonde hair. He hadn’t been fucked like that in a long time, and he quickly came to the understanding that it was not only because Gautier was incredibly talented in the art of sex, but also because he felt something for him. Smiling widely, he let out a sigh. “I do believe I’m finished for now, good Sir,” he teased back.

“Good. Because if you wanted more, I would have to be creative. I'm quite spent for the moment, handsome.” And he was quite thoroughly satisfied, his entire body still thrumming with little aftershocks of pleasure. Although he honestly wouldn't have minded fucking Mol with fingers and tongue for another hour or so, Gautier was content to cuddle for now. “So, I didn't know you were multiorgasmic. That's incredibly sexy, you know.” It made him want to do all kinds of naughty things. One day soon, he was going to see exactly how many times he could bring Mol off.

If Mol’s face wasn’t already slightly flushed from their toss in the sheets, he would have blushed. He always did when Gautier called him handsome, or gorgeous. Perhaps the flush was also because of the mentioning of more creative means of play. For now, though, Mol was content to sink down in bed with his lover in his arms. “We all are,” Mol said. “Glad you find it attractive.” Leaning over a bit, he nuzzled Gautier’s cheek, placing little kisses there. That soft purring noise started again, low in Mol’s throat, changing in pitch slightly as he breathed in and out.

Enchanted by that sweet little purr, Gautier smiled, laying his hand over Mol's throat to feel the vibrations. Mol was bowling him over at every turn, fascinating him to no end. “You're amazing, Mol. Truly so.” He snuggled closer to Mol, barely wincing at the sticky traces of cooling fluid on his stomach. Cleaning up was low on his list of priorities at the moment, simply because he was so comfortable, he couldn't imagine moving for anything. That purring sound was soothing, lulling his mind into a gentle stupor and making him want to just melt into the bed and never leave. What could be more perfect than this?

 

TBC~!

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