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Chapter Text

It is incredibly strange being shortened to 1/10 of your size. Still, at seven and a half inches tall, Hank’s a half head taller than the fairy that had just shrunk him.

“Hello, handsome,” the diminutive man purrs. Hank mostly just stares and blinks.

It takes the better part of a minute for Hank’s brain to catch up to his situation. He’d been certain he was losing his mind when he kept hearing voices in his greenhouse. One voice, if he was going to bother with accuracy.

Not that he hadn’t been flattered. The voice had a lot of nice things to say about him, but it wasn’t every day your squash complimented your ass. He’d about fainted when a tiny man buzzed out from behind the leaves and propositioned him.

Hank had turned on his heel, marched into his house, and downed two shots before shelving the whiskey. It probably wasn’t the smartest plan to get drunk when tiny people had invaded his garden.

“At least they’re not in the house,” he’d muttered to himself, dragging his hand over his face.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” the man’s voice whispered in his ear. Hank had jumped a foot and a half off the ground. He could barely feel the slight weight of the creature. With a quick snatch, Hank hoped the thing wasn’t feral.

The tiny man had kicked and beaten his little fists against Hank’s forefinger. Hank stared at him in mesmerized horror until the little person gave up and slumped over against Hank’s thumb.

“What—Who are you?” He certainly looked like a person with the exception that he was about the size of Hank’s hand and had wings.

He straightened his crown, somehow sneering down his nose while looking up at Hank, “I’m Connor, one of the princes of the Seelie Court.”

“One of?” Hank had asked incredulously. “There’s more of you?”

Connor looked at him as if Hank were very dumb, “It wouldn’t be much of a court if it was just me.”

“Right. Cool,” Hank had set him down and unlocked his phone. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to commit myself to a mental hospital.”

Connor’s wings had buzzed angrily and suddenly Hank’s phone was wrapped in his tiny arms, hovering near the ceiling.

“Absolutely not. How am I to have you if you’re locked away in one of those inane facilities?” Connor opened his mouth wide, baring tiny sharp teeth. He ripped the home button off the phone before chomping along its edges. Pieces of it clattered to the floor and Hank continued staring.

“Have me?” He asked weakly and Connor grinned those sharp teeth at him.

“Yes,” he said sweetly. “It’s my birthday next week and mother said I can have anything I want. I want you.”

“Pass,” was Hank’s immediate reply and Connor zoomed into his face. “Jesus. Fuck. Don’t do that.”

“Why don’t you want me?” Connor scowled into Hank’s eyes. At this proximity, Hank could see tiny, sparkling freckles on Connor’s cheeks like he’s an honest to god sprite. He had to admit, he’s attractive.

Connor struck a pose and Hank had to bite back a laugh as Connor declared, “Everyone wants me. I’m the most handsome of the Sterns.”

“Not that I, uh, don’t think you’re pretty and all, but I’m a lot bigger than you.” Hank tried to be reasonable, but Connor didn’t strike him as all that rational. He wished he paid more attention to folklore. He knew dick all about fairies other than they can’t lie. Assuming any of this was really happening.

“So you think I’m pretty?” Connor blinked coquettishly at him and Hank’s mouth went into a flat line.

“That’s what you got out of that? Look, man. You’re tiny and I’m huge. I’d break you.” He couldn’t believe he was having this argument.

“I’m counting on it,” Connor had hummed. The little fairy’s eyes had begun to glow and Hank felt a faint tug as if Connor’s aura was calling to him.

Then he felt immensely nauseous and the world began to spin, warp, and bend until he found himself standing nearly nose to nose with the little man. He’s still taller than him, but by a matter of inches now instead of several feet.

“What. In the fuck. Did you just do.” Hank looks around in stunned shock. He can’t reach his coffee table or sit on his couch. He can, however, see several dozen dust bunnies under all of his furniture. He would vacuum, except the damn things weighs more than he does now.

Connor’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and it’s unnaturally red like a strawberry, “You indicated your significant size was the problem. I removed the problem.”

“You removed the top six feet of me!” Panic was beginning to set in and Connor looked less than amused.

“Really, Hank. It’s much closer to five and a half feet. Besides, it’s unimportant. We can fuck now.” He says it all simply, matter of factly, and a hysterical little laugh trills up Hank’s throat. He turns in a circle, trying to absorb the situation, when cool fingertips find his cheeks.

Connor’s face is much too close, his eyes shimmering as if gold lurks behind his amber gaze. When their lips meet, Hank’s brain shuts down. Not entirely, but the terror is gone. He mostly feels warm. Much too warm.

Why is he wearing clothes? It’s at least one hundred degrees in the house.

He jerks away from the kiss as suspicion prods at his belly, “Stop that.”

Connor pouts, “Why? You were enjoying it.” He points to the tent in Hank’s pants.

“That’s not real. You were…doing something to me.” He wiggles his fingers at Connor for lack of a better explanation.

Connor smirks, “I was turning you on. The horror.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Hank snaps back, trying to will away his erection. It throbs angrily at him.

Connor rolls his eyes and Hank has to resist the urge to pop them out of his head, “I can’t make you feel something that isn’t real. I can tap into it and increase it, but I can’t create something from nothing.”

He begins to circle Hank like a predator, trailing his fingers across Hank’s shoulders. Hank’s shirt melts away at the touch, but he can’t seem to summon the energy to care all that much. He’s having a hard enough time keeping control of the situation and not pouncing on the winged man pacing around him.

“A part of you wants me,” Connor’s voice comes out smug, honeyed, and filled with promise. “Indulge me.” Hank closes his eyes against that smile. Connor is making this too easy, too tempting.

“You’re hurting here,” Connor’s fingers come to rest on Hank’s naked chest over his heart. “This place isn’t good to you or kind to you.” He tries not to think about his shitty job and his second-hand furniture. Connor isn’t wrong. The only good thing Hank had going here was his little garden project.

“Let me take care of you,” Connor makes the offer and Hank knows he’s doomed. “You’ll want for nothing. We’ll eat and sleep and fuck for the rest of our days—our many, many days.”

“What, you’ll make me immortal?” It was a bizarre concept, one his brain couldn’t fully comprehend.

Connor’s smile went soft like whipped cream, “Something like that. The change isn’t unpleasant if that’s worrying you.”

Hank hesitates for another long moment before shrugging, “Fuck it.”

“Lovely,” Connor exhales in Hank’s face and his breath smells like honeysuckle. Connor’s lips latch onto his again and this time, Hank doesn’t resist. Connor’s tongue lashes into his mouth and something hot seeps down his throat, spreading to his belly, his arms, and his legs, before culminating with excruciating need in the crotch of his sweatpants.

Connor’s fingers leave trails of desire across his skin anywhere he touches. Hank writhes, unable to make a decision with this much testosterone pounding through his veins. He needs to fuck, right now, or he’s going to explode.

He rips off his pants, literally rips them, and is momentarily shocked by how easy it was. He’s strong, he knows, but that was an inhuman feat.

“Good,” Connor’s approval tickles Hank’s ear and he wants nothing more than to hear this man sing his praises while fucking him in half. “You’re stronger now, healthier, but still you. I can’t change that.”

Connor reaches down to fondle Hank’s balls and indescribable pleasure lances up his cock at the touch.

Connor grins, “You won’t always feel like this. I’ve been told the first couple of hours following transformation are absolutely decadent.” A tingle of relief sounds at the back of Hank’s mind. He would go insane if he felt like this for the rest of all time.

“Where would you like to have me?” Connor steps back and his clothes seem to dissolve. Hank lunges for him, but Connor hops back several feet, aided by his wings. “Patience, Hank. Where?”

“Anywhere,” Hank growls making another grab. This time Connor lets him, running his fingers through Hank’s hair. He tugs Hank’s head back and to the side, and his strength takes Hank by surprise.

“I’m not delicate,” Connor murmurs with darkening eyes. “Remember that.” His teeth sink into Hank’s neck and it’s molten pleasure. Connor’s strawberry tongue drags across the molested flesh; it heals instantly, leaving behind tiny scars in the perfect imprint of Connor’s mouth.

“Your fucking bite feels good,” Hank groans and Connor’s laugh tinkles against his skin.

“It’s my saliva,” Connor licks his lips and Hank notices tiny flecks of glitter left in his tongue’s wake. “It’s a gift from my godmother. She meant for me to have a skill for growing plants. As it turns out, the process had certain side effects.”

Hank’s brain refuses to function normally, still screaming for sex.

“What?” He asks dumbly and Connor cups his cheek as if Hank is amusing.

“So needy. So delicious.” He kisses him again and the fire in Hank’s brain roars for more fuel.

Connor pulls back, tapping Hank’s lips, “My kiss. It triggers arousal in those so inclined.”

“Inclined to what,” Hank groans when Connor runs his tongue up Hank’s throat, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“Inclined to fuck me,” Connor’s words contain a dark undercurrent that shoots straight to Hank’s dick, as if it needed any more convincing.

“I would,” Hank snarls into Connor’s hair, nuzzling into it. “But you keep fucking talking.”

“There it is,” Connor croons, enveloping Hank in his limbs. “Tap into your frustration. I want you to destroy me.”

Hank tackles Connor in a primal lunge, taking him down to the floor. They land on soft pillows and Hank would wonder where they are and how they got here if it wasn’t for a very naked Connor pinned beneath him.

He’s poised to thrust into the hilt when an alarm tinkles in the back of his brain. Connor wraps his legs around Hank’s waist, urging him forward. The head of his cock meets resistance and Hank’s arms brace, halting his forward momentum.

“Wait,” his voice is ragged and stained with need. “Don’t you need—” Connor digs in his heels and the tip of his dick is abruptly enveloped in heat.

His brain stutters and Connor grips his chin, “I am not human. I am not fragile. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Hank doesn’t need any additional convincing. He plunges into Connor’s body with enough force to make their skin clap when his hips meet Connor’s thighs. Connor’s eyes bulge, taking on a wild glee. His fingers trace over his stomach as if trying to feel if Hank is in his guts.

“So big,” he sighs. “All mine.” He pulls Hank down into a kiss and something animalistic breaks free from its cage. He grips Connor’s waist, bodily swinging him upright before collapsing onto his back. His fingertips dig into the flesh of Connor’s trim waist as he lifts him before jerking him back down to meet his thrust. He watches mesmerized as Connor shrieks, bouncing on Hank’s dick impossibly hard and fast.

Hank’s orgasm takes him by surprise. There had been no warning and he slams Connor down with a roar, his back arched, as heat races up the length of his cock.

Connor collapses to Hank’s chest, tracing one long finger over Hank’s chest, “So good.” He murmurs his praise and Hank’s scalp prickles. His dick presses into Hank’s stomach, still hard and in need of attention.

“Again,” Connor commands, running the flat of his tongue over Hank’s nipple and up to his collarbone. His orgasm had done nothing to slake the burning need roaring inside him and his dick swells at Connor’s demand for more.

“You sure?” Hank tries to regain some semblance of control before tearing into Connor, taking what he wants, using him however he desires. He feels like he could flip cars. Pinning Connor to the ground and rutting into him until he passes out seems like an easy feat.

Connor gives him a fond smile, looking remarkably put together for someone who just received a brutal railing, “So sweet. I don’t tire easily. Again.”

Hank slams Connor’s wrists to the ground, sliding into him with ease. Dozens of thoughts drift through his mind, each filthier than the last.

“Tell me,” Connor moans as Hank sets a slow pace, savoring every thrust, intending to feel it fully. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“How long?” Hank grunts the question, slowing to a halt. Embedded to the hilt, he reaches down to take Connor’s dick in hand, stroking it so slowly it’s almost mean. “How long have you wanted this?”

Connor’s dick dribbles and a faint flush colors his cheeks. The beast in Hank’s chest scents Connor’s embarrassment, sniffing for more, “Did you touch yourself, thinking of me?”

He picks up the pace, stroking Connor faster, tightening his grip. Connor mewls at the increased contact, but he grits his teeth like he’s trying to resist answering.

Hank bears his teeth in a savage grin, “You’re hungry for it, I can tell.” Hank doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but they feel good. He feels powerful with Connor at his mercy. He wants to turn him inside out with need like he’s done to Hank.

“Then fuck me, already,” Connor scowls and tries to thrust down on Hank’s dick. Hank’s fingers grip tighter around Connor’s wrists while his other hand continues jacking Connor’s length.

“I will,” he breathes out the promise before delivering a punishing blow. “Just as soon as you come. I wanna hear you scream. Wanna fuck you as you fall apart.” Connor’s eyes flash and his neck strains as he reaches up in an attempted kiss.

Hank pulls back, “No cheating. No sexy spit or whatever you’ve got. You wanted me. You’re going to get all of me. On my terms.”

Hank flips his grip on Connor’s dick, stroking him in reverse and Connor’s eyes drift closed. A small oh of pleasure oozes from his lips, “Oh, Hank.”

Connor’s come paints his chest when Hank’s hips begin to move. He may have remarkable stamina, but no one—magical creature or otherwise—had zero refractory period. Hank pounds into him, soaking in his oversensitive shrieking. Connor’s dick bobs useless and half-hard as Hank fucks into him with long, ruthless strokes.

Hank’s name tumbles from his lips followed by half-formed pleas for him to stop as well as keep going. He’s delirious with sensation, overwhelmed by the continuing ripples of pleasure singing through his veins. He’s going to suffocate on his own overwrought screaming if Hank doesn’t come soon.

He topples over the edge of reason when Hank’s second orgasm spills inside him. A hysterical sound escapes him as lights dance and sparkle in the corners of his vision. Heavy hands drag him, settling him across the broad expanse of Hank’s chest.

“Holy fuck,” Connor groans and Hank laughs.

“Nothing holy to do with it.” Connor can feel the words rumble in Hank’s chest.

Connor goes very still when Hank’s dick nudges against him, “How are you hard again?”

Looking into Hank’s eyes, Connor can hardly see any blue with how wide his pupils have spread. He jumps to his feet, attempting to take flight when Hank snags him by the ankle, pulling him back down.

“Oh no you don’t,” Hank rolls, tucking Connor beneath him, “What happened to fucking for days, hmm?”

Connor pushes at Hank’s chest, slightly panicked, “I had never seen you fully hard before. You’re massive. I need time. I need—”

Hank cuts him off with a kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth, carefully avoiding his saliva. He needs control.

“I’m not a monster. Not gonna force you if you don’t want to.” Connor relaxes and Hank noses at his ear, “But I think you got another one in you.”

Connor whimpers when Hank tugs at his half-interested erection. There was something alluring about being wanted like this. Having Hank’s full, intense focus on decimating him—Well, it was what he’d asked for. Judging by the way Hank is looking at him, he’s been sussed out.

He rolls to his side, taking Connor with him. Gripping both of their cocks in one hand, he strokes them in unison. Reaching out to grab one of Connor’s hands, he places it next to his, urging him to participate. Connor buckles at the contact as their hands move in unison, leaving no portion of their dicks untouched.

Hank comes hard when Connor leans forward to kiss him. His spend leaks through his fingers, slicking Connor’s dick with a filthy squelch. His breathing quickens and Hank pulls him closer. Never ceasing his stroking, Hank’s free hand drifts down to brush over Connor’s used hole. He traces the rim with one thick finger and grins at the sound Connor makes.

“You might not be fragile,” Hank murmurs, increasing the pace of his hand, “but I could break you if we’re not careful.”

Connor makes a strangled aborted sound and comes for Hank one more time. It’s weak compared to the first, but it leaves him boneless and exhausted.

Bowls of food and jugs of water line tables he hadn’t noticed in his fervor to fuck and he snags a few things at random. Connor lifts his head enough to drink without fully sitting up and he collapses back onto the mountain of pillows, biting into a cherry the size of his head.

Right, Hank reminds himself, I shrunk.

“So plants, huh?” Hank asks, gesturing to the fruits and vegetables in the bowls.

Connor gives him a tired smile, “Yes. Why do you think your garden grew so nicely?”

Hank arches an eyebrow at him, “That was your doing?”

Connor nods, closing his eyes, “You were sad and growing things seemed to make you happy. You talked to them, too. Not many people take the time to care for their plants.”

Hank privately thinks not many people are so lonely as to talk to the squash, but he leaves it unsaid.

“I knew I had to have you. Have your hands on me.” Connor’s eyes drift and he rolls to his side, evidently unaware he’s about to pass out with a bowling-ball sized fruit still in his hand.

“What do you think, now that you’ve had me?” Hank asks now that the effects of the transformation appear to be waning. The arousal is still there, but it’s a manageable thrum at the back of his mind.

Connor smiles serenely as he says in a very quiet voice, “I want to have you again tomorrow. And again and again and again.”

Hank snorts, “Dunno if either of us will be up for it. I don’t think I’ll be convincing my dick to rise again anytime soon.”

Connor’s eyes blink open in annoyance and he yanks Hank down with more strength than he imagined possible in someone so tired. He presses a chaste kiss to Hank’s lips, but it’s enough to poke at the embers of his lust. His dick twitches alarmingly, but Connor pulls away before Hank can sink below the surface of control.

“I don’t think it will be a problem, Hank.” He tugs Hank’s arm to his chest like a security blanket, forcing him to cocoon around him. “Sleep now. I haven’t a thing to do tomorrow and there are so many things I want to try.”

“Oh?” Hank wonders if he should be afraid at how horny this winged man makes him.

Connor grins, “You’ve felt my kiss. Imagine what it will do when I suck your cock.” Hank startles at that and Connor titters, “I may have to restrain you for that. I don’t know that you have enough control over your hunger yet.”

“What else?” Hank croaks, not certain why he’s asking for such tantalizing mental images.

Connor’s fingers stroke his arm, “Have you ever been with a man before me, Hank?” Hank grunts an affirmative and Connor’s nails tense against his skin, “Have you ever been on the receiving end?”

“Uh, that’d be a no.” His answer comes out fast, but Connor hears the note of uncertainty.

He looks over his shoulder to meet Hank’s gaze, “Would you like to?” When Hank doesn’t answer, Connor’s grin grows to expose his teeth, “The prostate is a marvelous thing. I’ll show you how to massage one properly in the morning.”

He kisses the tip of Hank’s nose and a pleasant warmth spreads to the tips of his fingers and toes. He doesn’t know what Connor does for the fairy courts or if he’ll ever leave this room again. He doesn’t particularly care. He’s just had the best day of his life and the future holds the promise of more just like it. He falls asleep with Connor in his arms, his wings tucked between them.

Chapter Text

It’s entirely possible Hank has lost his mind. Thinking on it for more than a fleeting moment, he wonders if he finally cracked and his brain invented a tiny fairy whose sole purpose in life seems to be getting Hank naked at every conceivable opportunity.

He draws the line at a public performance.

“No. Absolutely not. Connor—” Hank is lucky he’s still bigger than Connor even reduced to a hand span’s height. He’s able to brace his arms against the door and resist Connor’s persistent shoving at the small of his back.

Giving up with an angry little huff, Connor stomps off to their bathroom, “You are no fun at all.” A lurid mark stands out in sharp relief against his throat as he turns. Hank snorts. The evidence from their latest exploits on Connor’s skin suggests plenty of fun.

Hank follows him resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the buzzing fairy, “My apologies your highness.” Sarcasm oozes like jelly across his tongue, “But I don’t particularly feel like sharing my dick with the rest of your court.”

Connor pouts at him in the mirror, but a shrewd look paints his delicate features, “I suppose you’re right. That rat bastard Reed might get ideas and try to abduct you. He’s always salivating after desirable cock.”

Hank chokes on his own saliva at that comment, but Connor barrels onward without a thought for Hank or his impending heart attack, “I would be immensely put out if someone else got to taste your talents.”

Even when acting like a right brat, the urge to reassure Connor thrums in Hank’s gut, “What on earth makes you think I would fuck—”

Connor’s eyes snap to meet Hank’s in the mirror, “When presented with the option to fuck or die, most choose the former.”

Hank sees the trap plain as day. He sidles up behind Connor and snakes his arms around his waist, “He’s kind of runty for a fairy. I could take him in a fight, easy.”

Connor relaxes in Hank’s arms and Hank has to hold in a laugh. Connor may think himself a mysterious ranking member of the Seelie Court, but Hank could read him as plainly as the instructions on a tube of deodorant. Connor drove him crazy enough some days to consider shoving his head under his armpit, at any rate.

Mollified that Hank wouldn’t fuck any other magical entity flitting around the castle on prissy wings, Connor pivots, as always, to something decadent and depraved. He writhes and blurs in Hank’s arms as shimmering wings tuck and turn with unnatural grace.

He hovers a few inches off the ground, forcing Hank to lift his chin to hold his gaze, “I’m in the mood—”

“Because that’s something new,” Hank snorts and mutters,

“—for something different. Something fun.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Hank groans. It was part of the charade, but it livened up the day for him. Ever since his changing, his sex drive had been on high alert. At the mere thought of sex, his dick sprung to life like a sunflower seeking the sun.

Still, he liked to keep Connor on his toes.

Connor, in turn, continued to up the ante, “Something like that, yes. If you want.”

It took a lot to embarrass Hank, but this topic of conversation never failed to flood his face like a crimson pomegranate. Connor had floated the idea once before, but he’d yet to follow through. Hank wasn’t entirely against it, but he had a front-row seat to Connor’s face when he jackhammered into him. He wasn’t entirely certain how he’d feel being on the receiving end.

Then again, he has an eternity of days unraveling ahead of him. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get bored of fucking Connor into (albeit temporary) submission, but trying new things couldn’t hurt.

Connor watches Hank process the comment with heated eyes as if reading his thoughts, “Believe me, after what I’m planning, you’re going to be desperate for it.”

Connor’s lips brush against his and that dizzying, intoxicating pleasure he’d grown to crave floods his mouth with the crisp taste of fresh fruit. Whatever magic infused Connor’s kiss, it tinged his desire with different flavors. Tonight, he tastes of cherries.

Coherent thoughts begin to drift to the backend of Hank’s brain as Connor’s tongue probes into his mouth, seeking more of him. Every time Connor approached him with some wild idea or another, Hank couldn’t understand how Connor convinced him to go along with it. Until he kissed him like this. A man would have to be a fool to turn away from Connor.

It’s how Connor gets him tied down to their bed with his arms spread wide with next to no resistance. After several months of exposure to Connor’s attention, Hank is in his thrall. He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d fight to the death before sleeping with anyone other than Connor.

Connor molds himself against Hank’s hip, kissing along his jaw and leaving molten, tingling zaps of lust wherever his lips touch. Hank’s dick bobs and strains for attention as Connor’s hand makes its way languidly south. He hisses at the first touch and Connor swallows the sound in a kiss.

“You make such aggressive noises,” Connor murmurs against Hank’s ear as he strokes his length lightly, teasingly.

Hank growls a wordless answer and Connor’s grin deepens, “Like that, yes. I’ve heard your snarl and your roar, but tonight?”

Connor lets the question hang in the air as he slips down the bed to settle between Hank’s thighs. Connor gropes at the inner flesh and his fingers look comically dainty as the meat of it bulges through his fingers. He licks his lips and they glimmer with his unnaturally gifted saliva.

Hank sucks in a breath when Connor’s head dips low, realizing what he intends to do. Connor’s eyes grin at him as his ruby red tongue darts out to trace along the glans of Hank’s flushed cockhead. Hank’s head snaps back and his spine arches high enough to lift him from the bed. Silken waves of desire sing in his veins, demanding more. His arms tug hard enough to rattle the bed in the frame. He wants to grab Connor by the ears and fuck into his delicious mouth for the rest of time.

When he comes back down from a plane of pleasure he never knew existed, Connor is watching him with predatory eyes, “As I was saying. Tonight, I intend to make you howl.”

“Fuck,” Hank exhales as he tries to slow his racing heart. He’d wondered what it would be like to finally have Connor’s lips wrapped around his cock. Now, he’s vaguely concerned he won’t survive the experience. Not concerned enough to stop, but the thought waves itself around in his mind in a slight panic.

He understands Connor’s insistence on restraining him now.

The heat of Connor’s mouth envelops the head of Hank’s cock without warning, but the sensation doesn’t knock him as senseless as it did the first time. Connor swirls his tongue like Hank’s cock is his favorite flavor lollipop. He’s merciless in his attention, making sure to lick at every part of the tip before taking it back into his mouth.

Hank’s breathing is harsh as he whispers out a warning. Connor’s barely gotten started and, already, Hank is on the verge of blowing his load. The image of come streaking across Connor’s face nearly undoes him until Connor’s fingers tighten almost painfully around the base of Hank’s dick. He keeps it there, opting instead of nip and suck at Hank’s hips, marking him here and there while he waits for Hank to regroup.

Before Hank can issue a reassurance that he’s back in control, Connor sucks one of Hank’s balls into his mouth with a lewd slurp. Heat engulfs Hank’s brain as his body screams for more. He shouts something unintelligible and Connor has the gall to smirk at him with his mouth full of scrotum. He lets it fall wetly from his lips before dragging the flat of his tongue along the underside of Hank’s shaft.

Again, he relents before the critical moment and Hank swears loudly at him, “Fucking dammit, Connor.”

Connor scissor walks his fingers up Hank’s erection lightly, “Problem, Hank?”

“Fuck you,” he snarls, trying to rip out of the ropes binding him. He needs to buck into that smart mouth if only to shut Connor up.

“I was rather intent on fucking you, actually.”

Hank goes still as the memory of their earlier conversation knocks on the front door to his forehead. Right. That.

Connor gives him a sanguine smile that always presages obliterating depravity, “I want to feel your thighs tremble around me as I tongue your hole.” Hank closes his eyes as if he can hide from Connor or the mental picture he’s painting.

Connor eases back from his teasing, and strokes a tender hand down Hank’s flaming cheek, “I want to see your face for your first time.”

Hank destroyed Connor on a near-daily basis. What does it say about him to deny Connor this? He isn’t against the idea, but it’s daunting. He’s also still highly distracted by the idea of Connor’s lips locked around his girthy shaft.

As if on cue, Connor poises his mouth over Hank’s groin while he aims Hank’s leaking erection toward his mouth, “It’s something to think about while I take you apart like this.”

If Connor has a gag reflex, it must be deep in his gullet because Hank’s yet to find it. Connor’s nose presses into the flesh of Hank’s lower belly and he hums in a self-satisfied way. Hank makes a hoarse sound at the sensation of Connor’s throat convulsing around the head of his dick. Hank decides part of Connor’s magic must be rooted in being a cock tease as he’s able to perfectly time when he stops to right before Hank tips over the edge of release.

He kneads at the curve of Hank’s ass and gives him a pleasant, business-like smile, “I can keep this up all night if you need more time to think.”

As if Hank has thought a single coherent thing since Connor’s tongue touched his dick. The idea of an endless blow job, wave after wave of ceaseless pleasure with no climax, assaults his senses and Connor knows he’s won before Hank mutters a sullen fine.

He expects Connor to drag it out of him. He isn’t cruel so much as he is a fairy and delights in teasing Hank. He does not expect Connor to lift his thighs and spread him as wide as is comfortable without retort. Connor stares and Hank clenches on instinct, unused to anyone gazing at his ass like he’s an untouched banquet.

The first brush of Connor’s tongue on the coiled edge of his hole pulls a strangled sound from deep in his chest. Connor traces his tongue in languid circuits around Hank’s rim, threatening to drown him in pulses of unfamiliar pleasure. Hank’s cock twitches when Connor pulls at his ass cheeks, exposing him thoroughly for better access.

Hank’s embarrassment loses the battle against lust in spectacular fashion when Connor’s tongue pushes against that ring of tight muscle, easing his way in as if uncertain of his welcome. A low, filthy moan sneaks out of Hank’s mouth and Connor thrusts his tongue again as if testing the reaction.

“Holy fuck,” Hank groans, gripping the ropes restraining him like a lifeline.

Connor hums a sound that could be a concealed laugh and Hank nearly vibrates out of his skin at the transferred sensation. Connor strokes and probes at Hank’s hole with his wicked tongue, watching the quiver in Hank’s thighs with undisguised glee.

When Connor finally relents, his mouth and chin shine with the magic that glitters in his saliva. Hank sees Connor’s lips move, but no words reach him. A dull roar fills his ears, demanding more. Connor indulges him with the slide of his finger. It’s a strange sensation, but not unpleasant. It lacks the power of Connor’s tongue, but Hank imagines there must be something to this or Connor wouldn’t demand Hank’s dick so often.

He yelps out a sound without thinking when Connor curls his finger just so. It brushes against something that sets Hank’s nerves on fire, screaming for Connor to do it again. Connor leans and warm drool hits Hank’s skin like micro bombs of liquid lust. Hank makes a sound that he would classify as a whimper if it came from Connor, but something gritty tangles with it.

Connor grins, “Oh, I like this. Very much.”

Hank grunts an eloquent fuck when Connor presses in a second finger, stretching Hank open for the first time. He clenches around Connor’s fingers, feeling stretched wide even if it’s only two of Connor’s slender fingers. Both fingers attacking him at once nearly undoes him. He shouts Connor’s name and his hips undulate as Connor strokes at the flame inside him until it consumes him, mind, body, and soul.

It’s obscene and salacious and Hank is almost certain he could come from this alone. The slick, squelching sound of Connor finger fucking Hank with his strange saliva is second only to the gut-deep sounds spilling from Hank’s mouth. Connor eyes him for a moment as if making up his mind. Hank misses the look; he’s unprepared for his destruction.

Hank had thought Connor had been working him over inside like a master. He hadn’t realized Connor was holding back. The pressure increases as does the intensity of his fingers stroking him to near insanity. He bellows when Connor’s tongue swirls around the leaking head of his cock. Pleasure only magic could shape trails in the wake of Connor’s tongue. Connor moves to close his lips around the thick head when Hank’s release takes him full in the face, but not by surprise.

His fingers remain buried inside Hank, working him through the orgasm, pulling more come from him than Hank thought possible. Wave after wave of blissful relief that he’s finally, finally coming keep him on high. His hips buck weakly, riding the last crest of his orgasm.

He doesn’t remember Connor pulling his fingers out of him or when exactly Connor untied him. He does remember Connor running a finger through the come on his face before popping it into his mouth like a chef checking his recipe. He wipes the rest of it off with Hank’s shirt, but Hank’s still too wrecked from his orgasm to care.

“Thought you wanted to…you know,” he mutters when the high from his release dulls enough to let thoughts back into his head.

Connor stretches out like a cat of prey taking a temporary reprieve from the hunt, “The sounds you were making. Lovely. But I don’t want to break you on your first go.” Hank scowls at him and Connor smiles, “Besides. We have until the end of forever. It’s not like I’m in a particular hurry.”

Hank concedes the point before gesturing to Connor’s untouched erection, “What about you?”

Connor’s answer is to roll and thrust his ass high into the air, “I showed you how it’s done. Return the favor.”

Hank smacks at a freckle on Connor’s left ass cheek and watches the pale flesh jiggle and redden from the impact. Connor yelps and attempts to turn until Hank’s hands spread his legs wide. Most of Hank’s experiences with men were quick fucks from online dating apps back in the human world. He intends to take his time.

Return the favor, indeed.

By the time Hank lets Connor come, he’s on the verge of tears. Connor had begged for a second finger and then a third. He’d tried to take himself in hand until Hank smacked it away. He pinned Connor flat to the bed, trapping his dick against the mattress as he pumped and curled his fingers as Connor had shown him. Hank worked Connor through whimpers and wails for what felt like an eternity before Connor’s orgasm finally broke through the onslaught.

Connor’s eyes roam the room, sated and exhausted. He tries to gather up some outrage when he squints at the sun marking the time on the wall, but he’s too wrung out for a big effort, “An hour, Hank?”

Hank strokes along the delicate-looking ridge of Connor’s wing to mollify him and the tiny fairy shivers at the touch. It’s cheating and Hank knows it. Connor doesn’t particularly care at the moment. He fans out the wing, curling it around Hank, pulling him closer.

He’s feigning sleep when Hank mumbles tiredly, “I can hear you plotting. A man needs his rest.”

Connor grins, “I did promise you sleep when I brought you here, didn’t I?”

Hank grunts an affirmative, “Eating, sleeping, and fucking.”

Connor traces the line of Hank’s beard fondly, “For the rest of our days.”