Chapter 32 - 032: Little Fox 2 [R18]
Kenai’s mouth was still locked on her breast, teeth grazing the sensitive peak as he sucked hard enough to pull a sharp gasp from Anaria’s throat. His free hand kept her pinned to the rough stone wall, body crowded in so tight she could feel the thick length of him straining against the simple loincloth. Heat rolled off him in waves. The rut had him burning.
A soft fox like chime cut through the haze inside her head.
[Husband candidate 3: Rut intensity remains critical.
[Suppression rate: 0%. Recommended action: immediate physical release or risk escalation to feral state]
Anaria’s eyes fluttered, a soft, frustrated moan slipped out of her. "The fuck..."
She shoved at his shoulders. Not hard enough to truly force him back, but firm. Kenai growled against her skin, reluctant, but the push registered. He lifted his head, mouth wet, eyes nearly black. Anaria didn’t give him time to question it. She slid down the wall, knees hitting the dirt floor, and reached straight for the knotted cloth at his hips.
The loincloth came free with one determined tug. His cock sprang out heavy and already rigid, the head flushed dark, a bead of fluid gleaming at the tip. Anaria wrapped her fingers around the base, adjusted her position between his spread feet, and took him into her mouth in one smooth motion.
Kenai’s breath punched out of him like he’d been struck. A raw, broken moan tore from his chest. His hands flew to the wall above her head for balance. Anaria hummed around him, the vibration making his hips jerk. She sucked deeper, cheeks hollowing, tongue pressing hard along the underside as she worked him. The thick length stretched her lips; the taste of him salt, heat, musk flooded her senses.
He moaned again, louder, the sound almost pained. Anaria’s eyes flicked up. Seeing the way his stomach clenched, the way his breath came in harsh pulls, she took him deeper still. Her throat fluttered around the head. Kenai’s voice cracked.
"Little fox"
The name came out low and rough, half warning, half plea. Anaria’s lips curved around him in a small, knowing smile. That was all it took.
Kenai’s hand dropped to her hair, fingers threading through the strands and tightening. He didn’t ask. He thrust. The first push drove him further into her mouth; the second set a rhythm. Anaria’s eyes watered. Her hands braced against his thighs as he fucked her mouth with short, controlled strokes that still felt anything but gentle. She trembled shoulders shaking, thighs pressing together but she stayed, throat working, taking every inch he gave her.
The wet sounds of it filled the small space. Kenai’s breathing turned ragged, almost animal. His grip in her hair tightened further. Another few thrusts and the control started to slip. He pulled free with a sharp, wet sound, chest heaving.
"Leave," he rasped, voice scraped raw. He stepped back half a pace, cock still glistening, veins standing out along the shaft. "Go. Now. Before I lose it completely."
Anaria wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then rose slowly to her feet. She didn’t step away. Instead she closed the distance again, pressing her bare body against his.
"Shut up," she said, quiet but clear, "and fuck me."
Kenai’s jaw flexed. His hands hovered at her waist like he was still trying to hold himself back. Anaria leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Just see it as helping you cure the rot," she whispered. "Nothing more." A small smile curved her mouth. "You can pretend that’s all it is if it makes you feel better."
She didn’t wait for an answer. She dipped her head and closed her mouth over one of his nipples, sucking hard enough to make his whole body jolt. Her hand slid down between them, wrapping around his cock again and giving it a slow, deliberate stroke. Kenai’s restraint snapped like dry twine.
A low, dangerous sound rolled out of his throat "You asked for it, lil fox."
He moved fast. One moment she was standing; the next her back hit the packed-earth floor. Kenai followed her down, large hands already shoving her thighs apart and spreading them wide. There was no careful preparation, no soft kisses trailing lower. He simply lowered his head and put his mouth on her.
The first drag of his tongue was broad and rough, from the bottom of her slit straight up over her clit. Anaria’s back arched. Kenai didn’t ease into it. He licked her like he was starving long, firm strokes that parted her folds, then the flat of his tongue pressing hard against the swollen bud. His hands kept her thighs open, thumbs digging into the soft flesh of her inner legs so she couldn’t close them even if she tried.
He growled against her when she moaned, the vibration shooting straight through her. His mouth sealed over her clit and sucked, not gentle, not teasing just relentless pressure that made her hips twitch. Anaria’s fingers found his hair again, gripping tight as he worked her. The wet heat of his tongue, the scrape of stubble against her sensitive skin, the sheer intensity of it had her thighs trembling within moments.
Kenai shifted lower for a second, tongue pushing inside her, fucking her with it in short, deep strokes before returning to her clit. He kept one thick finger circling her entrance, not quite pushing in, just pressing enough to make her clench and chase the sensation. Every time her hips lifted, he pinned them back down with a forearm across her lower belly, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
The sounds he made were half hungry, half furious like he was angry at how much he needed this, at how easily she had broken his control. Anaria’s soft moans turned sharper. Her free hand clenched in the dirt beside her. Kenai’s tongue flicked faster, then sucked harder, the dual sensation making her legs shake harder against his shoulders.
He didn’t stop when she started to tremble more violently. He only pressed closer, mouth sealed tight, tongue relentless, until Anaria’s breath caught and her body tightened under him. Even then he kept going, dragging every last pulse of sensation out of her before he finally lifted his head.
His mouth was wet. His eyes were darker than before. The rut was still burning through him, undimmed, and the look he gave her said the next part would not be slow at all.