ask weekend 21/11.
@whlpsandchains sent: ♣️ - Have your muse deepthroat mine
He’d hit her too hard, this much Sanzo knew. He didn’t like pulling punches, and Savannah wasn’t the type to enjoy people “looking down” on her, but he’d hit her too hard and that was why she was bloody. It was why his cock had been lined with red the first time he’d pulled it out from between her lips, blood against the shine of her spit, and he wondered if she hated that her teeth had cut into her inner cheek that hard when his fist had met her face.
If it did, well, he imagined she would’ve bitten his dick when he pushed it back in.
Here he stood, hand against the trunk of a tree as the other kept a tight grip on Savannah’s hair, hackles raised and his cock pumping steadily into her open mouth. There was a crack in it after he’d slammed her into the bark, the mark having been made with such an ugly sound it might cause flinching; the sparring had been no joke, and gods, he wasn’t supposed to be straining her like this.
But in Sanzo’s defence, he’d intended to pull her up after the customary stroke of fingers through her hair in praise, to say that her training was done for today and he’d be taking her back to the Chateau. Except there was something in the way Savannah panted for air and the way her eyes were still alight with fire, and the way her breath had hitched when his hand was at the back edge of her skull and blunt nails had skated her scalp.
Not a lot of power-bound slaves could look so passionate after being punched that hard, and even fewer were strong enough that Sanzo thought to train them. He liked Savannah-- respected her, even if a part of him was furious a wolf of her calibre wasn’t allowed to be free. And even if he was getting better at this, at civilisation’s idea of control, he could smell spikes of want from miles away, and so instead of releasing her, his fingers had looped Savannah’s hair around them, once and twice before he curled them into a fist and tugged those locks taut, and with a bite to her lip that turned into a kiss it’d all gone downhill from there.
Or was it uphill? Sanzo didn’t know. All he knew was that he was holding Savannah’s head steady, feeling her fingers over his hips as she gripped them and his cock drew back and forth into her open mouth. All he knew was that her mouth was wet and warm and he could smell how turned on she was, and the honesty of it made him snarl. His motions were stiff, careful because he was holding himself back-- Savannah had let him kiss her, sure, had let him put his hand in her hair and his other hand on her jaw, had let him slip rough fingers into her mouth to fuck it, had let him rise and pull her hair so she’d look up at him, but the reality was that they’d just been sparring.
She must be drained, and he ought to let her rest.
Instead, Sanzo watched the bulge of her cheek as he forced inches of thick cock into her, teeth grit and irises ringed gold. He watched her lips press around him as he pulled back, watched saliva drip out when he stretched her mouth open again, and he kept telling himself to stop, but gods.
“Hah” -- a shiver crawled over his shoulders; this pace was too slow, but she had to recover, and -- “fuck, Savannah, I’m gonna move, yeah?”
Harder. More. Sanzo wasn’t fast yet, but his hips snapped up and his cock sank down her throat, teeth grit and a growl rising from the base of his chest.