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This story was written for Day #30 of Kinktober 2017! Today's theme is Body/Cock-Worship, and the story was written for Bluetippedwolf. This story contains M/M sex between consenting adults. :3

Every Bit of Me

Tarin knows that I love him, and I know that he loves me so very dearly in return. There are times though, nights, days, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to when these occasions occur other than when the mood strikes him, that my shadowy angel's feelings for me surpass love and move into a realm somewhere between carnal obsession and an almost divine manner of worship. Of course, as a demon, I should hate that. I should revile and despise being treated as some figure or paragon of godhood. I should care only for the power that I am given through others' reverence, not for their adoration, not for their mere fawning supplication before me or the faith they bestow upon me.

And yet...

I blush. My cheeks redden as he knees beside me, taking a moment to simply admire my form bare and free from the dark robes that normally cover it. A wolf much like himself, only larger, stronger in physical stature, darker in the tones of my fur. Where his wings are rich and raven feathered with the slightest shine to each and every quill, mine are twisted, bat-like and the purest, deepest black in flesh tone. Yet while the light of so many days would sink into my body and re-emerge never to be seen again, he looks upon me as though looking upon a star, bashful, nervous in the radiance he seems to somehow spot deep inside of my being. And in return, I feel it. That warmth. That heat rising up inside of me, born of his gaze. Of his devotion. I smile at him, at my Tarin, and reach out a hand. He takes it between both of his own, raises it, and kisses its fingertips.

He tells me he loves me. I say the same. I mean every word. I will never stop meaning them, never stop saying them. Not if I live for another thousand years. Another two thousand. An eternity would not be long enough to keep me from saying each and every day that I love my Tarin with all my heart. And yet still, when he looks at me in the way he is now, I wonder... is all the love in the world that I have to give to that man even close to enough?

I shudder slightly as he lets go of my hand, and brings both his paws to bear upon my body. My torso. He strokes his fingers through my fur with such reverent care, his eyes closing to revel in the simple contact, to take the time necessary to memorise this feeling he has felt hundreds of times before and, fate willing, will have no reason to only recall through memory alone for many hundreds of occasions more. I feel his touch against my abs, tracing along each line and contour of the muscle, and up, over my chest. He touches my nipples, already having risen to dark peaks that emerge through my fur. He smiles as my chest rises a little faster at that touch. He leans forward, my heart beating faster. Faster. I arch my back, pressing my torso upward to meet his touch, and I growl as he kisses my nipples one by one. As he licks them with his rough, wet tongue. As he closes his lips around them one at a time and suckles, not seeking life-giving milk, only pleasure. My pleasure.

His kisses continue even as his lips pull away from the now ever more stiffened and tender peaks. Over my now racing heart. Up. Upward further still, a gossamer trail of dozens of little pecks paving the way to my neck. My tender, exposed throat. He could do anything to me in that moment. Tear out my jugular. Bite down and feast upon me like some half-dead vampire. He could try, and I wouldn't have the time to stop him before the act was complete, such is my absolute trust that he means me no harm. Still the kisses continue. The flurry rises up and up until he is face to face with me, eye to eye, his hands now resting against the bed either side of my shoulders. Our noses touch. I see his cheeks flushing with joy as he sees the eager smile upon my face, knowing that of coure I desire him and all that he has yet to give me.

He straddles me. I growl as I feel his buttocks graze the swollen shaft of my member, and then, like the cruel tease he is, he strikes. He kisses me when I am not ready, a quick peck on the lips to which I cannot respond, before engaging in a deeper, longer, far more intimate and joyous kiss. How does one worship someone in a kiss? Before I felt it, I did not know the answer either. Yet now as I feel it day after day, I know it can be done. I tremble, I blush as I find myself on the receiving end of such a stunning, phenomenal kiss. His lips touch mine, his tongue teases and flicks across the tip of my own, with such precise care and yet wild abandon all at once. His hot breath washes out across my face, ragged and frantic with his delight at committing this act. I even feel a few droplets of wet heat fall upon the lower portion of my stomach, and knowing where those droplets doubtlessly came from sets my mind, my heart, my body ablaze with equal fury.

I want to let him decide where to go. How to touch me, if he wishes to continue doing so as I believe he does. I want him to take it at his pace, as I couldn't possibly as for more than he is already so willingly and eagerly giving. Yet, god... as he kisses me, as he shakes and moans astride me, his long, lush tail sweeping back and forth, wagging across the tip of my ever hard, ever eager member while our tongues tangle, all I want to do is beg him to suck my cock. All I want to do is tell him it's okay if that's where he wants to worship next, because frankly, shamelessly by now, I crave his reverence in that particular spot.

A minute passes before he begins to slide away from my lips, before he scoots downward and with a ragged moan finds himself seated astride me, his cock now resting alongside the underside of mine. His shaft is smooth, mine bears ridges, yet another indication of my heritage. Yet as they touch, I feel both hard as rock and as tender, as delicate as a newborn pup. As I look up into his face and see the expression upon it, the hunger, the joy, the rapture at being able to touch me like this and stimulate, pleasure himself at the same time, I feel another surge of bashful disbelief. I ask myself how I found myself such a man, such an angel. How I ended up being so lucky. And in Tarin's eyes as he wraps a hand around both our members and squeezes them together, both our hips thrusting oh so gently as our balls brush one another, I see the same question being asked of himself.

He slides lower, pulling his cock away from my own with a mutual reluctance that makes me wonder why I let him. Why I don't just throw myself over him and grind our cocks together, rubbing, panting, humping until we howl, blush and make a sticky mess of one another's crisp dark fur together.

The answer, of course, is that sometimes I do. Sometimes we never make it past that point. Sometimes we never make it past kissing before his ass is full of my cock. Sometimes the moment he gives me that reverent look I grin back at him and barrel him to the ground a mere second later, not giving him a moment to act with reverence, with adoration, with worship, with anything less than frantic, howling, shrieking ecstasy.

Today though, I show restraint. I show respect for my dear Tarin, and let him do as he wills to me. With me. I let him crawl down my body until he straddles my knees, and watch finally as he leans forward, onto all fours once more, and spreads his wings out wide in a canopy over himself as though shielding heaven itself from seeing what he is about to do. I described the way he kissed me. The way he explored and adored my torso. The way he looked at me, just as he looks at me now, while rubbing our cocks together. I see that same expression as he licks his lips and stares at my cock. As he reaches out with trembling hands to fondle it, to squeeze it, to worship it both as a part of me and in many respects an entity in its own right. So worthy of adoration in his eyes that to merely consider it the same as a hand, a foot, a nipple, would be undeniably insulting.

He cups and caresses my balls, already full, swollen, aching with the urge for release by his hand... though I dare say any portion of his body would do. He squeezes them, giggling as I stiffen, as I growl, as I cry out while a hot strand of pre-cum oozes from my cock and down over the fingertips only just starting to caress its length. I watch as he explores my member like he's seeing it for the first time, treating it with all the care of a priceless artefact, treating me as some vestal virgin. And yet at the same time, I revel in those tender touches as he knows just how to deliver them to ensure that there is no loss of sensation. He may touch me like I'm a virgin, but if all virgins could be made to feel so incredible, to have their bodies made to writhe, their wings to flap and tense, their cocks to ooze and drool all over themselves from such first intimate touches, I dare say the world would be filled with many more people who didn't leave their first time feeling so... disappointed.

Virginal or decidedly otherwise though, Tarin could never let me down in that regard. And today, this occasion is no different. He leaves my cock throbbing, trembling, glistening with my own pre-cum. He removes his hands and leans in closer, make me twitch and growl beneath him as he breathes over my member, hot rushes of air and cool, purposeful exhalations with lips pursed. I ache. I drip. I claw at the bedding as his eyes watch every writhing motion. Worshipping me for my appearance, yes, but by now worked up in his own right enough to revel in a different aspect of my body. My reaction to him. Watching, admiring, delighting in what he himself is capable of doing to me. He teases me. He tempts me. God, it would be so easy to leap up right now, pin him to the bed and fuck his face until I pour cum down his throat or spill it all over those beaming, blushing cheeks. It would be so easy to do that to him. That, or any one of a hundred other things I know would leave him howling, blushing and trembling with blissful fatigue.

So, so easy.

There would be days where he might have gotten to do more to me. Teased my cock tip with his tongue. Suckled upon my head. Caressed and squeezed my knot until it throbbed and ached. Kissed it. Nuzzled it. Inhaled its rich, musky scent as he took my cock into the back of his throat and ended up with his nose against the fur of my balls.

But not today.

It would be so easy for me to lose control with all the teasing contact Tarin gives while worshipping me. And today, I let myself believe that. I let myself be consumed by that knowledge.

Today I rise up from the bed. I pin him to it in turn. Today I lie down astride him, body to body, our eyes, our cocks, even our wings in alignment. I grab his arms with mine, and I kiss him deeply.

"Enough worship..."

I growl to him, nipping at his neck, his head tilted back, throat so freely exposed.

"Enough devotion..."

I grind my hips against his, watching his face flush, feeling his cock twitch as I hump against it with mine.

"Enough showing me how much you want me."

I slide up him. I kiss him deeply once again while peering deep into his eyes. I slip into position, and I see his eyes bulge. My Tarin. My sweet, beloved Tarin. He never sees this coming. Never seems to even consider it until it's upon him, no matter how frequently we share it together.

He worships me so freely, yet... he finds it so embarrassing, so overwhelming when I do the same to him. Even when, after craving and exploring me for a great many minutes on end, it's he who has to experience feeling craved to such excess that the feelings giving rise to that craving can no longer be restrained.

A deep growl escapes my lips, and I meet his gaze, watching, delighting in the expression as I sink down onto my Tarin's own hot, throbbing erection.

He can desire me. He can crave me. He can worship and revere me.

But right now, I need the man I desire, crave, worship, revere and love so dearly to do one thing and one thing alone for me.

"Cum in me, Tarin."

By Jeeves

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