Chapter 220: Bound by Hunger (M)

First came the heat.

Then came the faint musky taste that, for some unimaginable reason, made Riley’s mouth water before he realized he was moving again.

His tongue brushed against the slick tip, slow and uncertain, like he was testing the limits of how much a human was allowed to want a dragon.

But in truth, what stood out the most to the fragile mortal was power.

Yes. It was that undeniable and raw power that he just ended up wielding.

Because when the growl that came from above told him exactly how far he could go, Riley finally understood just how powerful this was.

So he took a deep breath and opened his mouth wider, slowly sliding the thick shaft past his lips.

“Mhmm…”

This was probably going to be his sinful obsession.

But while one mortal was experiencing a positive epiphany, one dragon lord was in the middle of a crisis.

Because this—no, he—was probably going to be the death of him.

A dent.

On the backrest.

On his cock.

On his life.

His human was leaving dents everywhere.

The moment those sensual lips parted for him, Kael had experienced several internal calamities.

And if Riley could just glean every filthy thing that ran in his mind before that tongue first touched his shaft, then he likely wouldn’t be on his knees for him.

He would’ve been out the door, concerned for his safety.

Because for the dragon whose eyes were being opened to the world of pleasure, Riley just happened to be his end-all and be-all.

Just the heat of that soft and wet mouth enveloping the swollen head of his shaft got Kael’s hand threading through Riley’s hair as he fought the urge to go as deep as possible.

But then he was really taken deeper, and the dragon lord’s breath hitched.

“Hh—”

It was a sound halfway between a groan and a curse as his thigh flexed under Riley’s steadying palm.

But the preoccupied human didn’t console him.

Couldn’t.

Because his mouth was already full, lips stretched around the dragon’s length, cheeks hollowing as he drew back with a wet, quiet slck that made Kael’s claws dig into furniture.

Saliva mixed with heat. The sound of it filled the room.

Every time he moved, he could hear himself—soft, obscene noises that echoed between his breaths. His tongue traced the underside, learning the pulse that throbbed there, steady and powerful, until it beat in sync with his own.

He felt so alive. So fixated.

Meanwhile, Kael’s control faltered.

The human’s mouth set him—of all people—aflame. It was impossible to ignore the way Riley’s tongue kept swirling around the head before sliding down the length of his throbbing shaft.

How he would take him deeper, inch by inch, until the dragon lord could feel the back of his mortal’s throat constrict around him.

“Fuck…” The word came out low, rough, almost a warning, but his hips still rose to meet the next slide of Riley’s mouth. Every motion drew a helpless shudder, every exhale turned into a growl that vibrated against Riley’s lips.

But Riley only hummed in response, sending vibrations through Kael’s shaft that could’ve made anyone’s toes curl.

Not that Kael’s cursing didn’t sound like music to his ears, but because he was too deep into his endeavor. Both literally and figuratively.

The hyper-focused human was actually drowning in the dragon lord’s scent that thickened in the air.

Sweet, sharp, alive.

It wrapped around him like a spell, and something primal deep inside him stirred in answer, aching to respond to his dragon’s hunger.

And before long, it became evident that Kael wasn’t the only beast in the room.

And even Riley couldn’t understand it.

He was all theory and no practice. Sure, if he counted the number of times his hand worked on himself, then certainly he’d have a degree, complete with an internship.

But his mouth?

Not once had it taken something like this. And consider him crazy for believing in internet talk, but from what he knew, semen shouldn’t taste like this!

The simple mortal was sure no one would believe him if he said that Kael’s semen was addictive.

Then again, they were humans. On the other hand, his Kael was most definitely a dragon. Maybe it was the diet? Or mana? Or maybe it was just Riley’s personal opinion?

Then again, was dragon cum as important as dragon blood?

Who knows?

Oh—

Well, he would.

He apparently would.

Dazed and determined, Riley’s hand wrapped around the base, guiding his rhythm. The other steadied against Kael’s thigh, feeling every taut muscle flex beneath his fingers. Each swallow made him ache harder. Each breath he stole came out shaky, threaded with heat.

When he dared to look up, the dragon lord was already watching him—eyes molten gold and slit with fire. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling faster than usual.

It was an arousing sight.

And even more so when Riley watched that taut string of reason snap.

Kael’s hand gripped the backrest of the chair with such force that the wood creaked beneath his fingers—his golden eyes locked on the sight of his mate’s lips stretched around his cock.

The dragon lord watched as Riley bobbed his head up and down, taking more and more of him with each pass. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked harder, saliva dripping down Kael’s shaft and pooling at the base.

It was a sight that would have driven any man mad with desire.

“Riley, you’re going to—” The sentence cut off with a sharp hiss as his hand seriously threatened to snap the unsuspecting chair. And if not for the fragile human being there, nothing could’ve stopped him.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

But maybe he did. Maybe that was why he didn’t stop.

Riley took him deeper this time.

Kael groaned loudly, the sound raw, unrestrained. His hips jerked once, instinctively, then stilled as if the effort to hold back was agony.

Riley’s pace quickened, the wet rhythm growing louder, his throat tightening and relaxing in time with the pulse that beat against his tongue. Kael’s scent and heat were even thicker now, and Riley could barely think past the need to please him, to hear that sound again.

Kael’s hand trembled, fingers grazing the back of his neck. “Stop,” he rasped. But there was no conviction in it. Just strain. Desire. And something dangerously close to reverence.

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