Free Bloodraven by P. L. Nunn

of one hand. He put his mouth to it, opened his lips and tentatively ran his tongue along the tip, tasting sweat and the salty flavor of pre-cum. It jerked under his hands, reacting to the touch of his tongue. He opened his mouth wider and took the head inside. Felt his teeth scrape against soft flesh and felt it fill his mouth from the slick, flat roof to the meaty flesh of his tongue. He couldn’t take it all, but he worked the lower part of the shaft with his hands. He moved his tongue as much as he could, sliding it down towards the base of Bloodraven’s shaft.
    He pulled back, wrapping his lips about the head, swirling his tongue softly about the slit, hands sliding down to touch the large balls. He felt them tighten in his hand when he swallowed as much of
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    the shaft as he could again, felt Bloodraven’s hand on his head then, a gentle but insistent pressure to make him force more of the length down his throat. After the forest and the experience with the ogres there, he was shy of huge objects driven past his tonsils and down into his throat. He gagged reflexively and tried to jerk back, but Bloodraven’s one hand was stronger than his reflexive urge of flight.
    Yhalen had to force himself to relax. Bloodraven wasn’t trying to jam the entire length down his throat, just more of it than Yhalen felt comfortable with. When he’d calmed, Bloodraven slid the hand down to the back of his neck, stroking the hair there, letting Yhalen pull back and set his own pace. He wanted this over and the only way to that end was to make Bloodraven come. He knew what facilitated his own and Yherji’s ejaculation in similar circumstances—and began bobbing his head with slow rhythmic motions up and down Bloodraven’s shaft, hands gently kneading the tight flesh of the balls and the root of the shaft. He obviously was being a bit too gentle, for Bloodraven’s hand tangled in his hair and the ogre assisted Yhalen in picking up the pace, moving his head up and down, over and over, until Yhalen feared that his jaws would crack before the ogre actually orgasmed. He had to look up finally and the moment he did, Bloodraven’s gaze caught his eyes. Gold and sharp, with pupils dilated with passion. Almost there, then.
    Yhalen knew it was over when the balls tightened in his hands and the ogre’s body jerked. There was no pulling back with Bloodraven’s hand in his hair, and the back of his throat was hit with warm, salty liquid. It was never a taste that had particularly appealed to him, and graciously enough, as soon as he was done, Bloodraven released Yhalen and made no contest as the young human leaned to spit the ejaculate from his mouth.
    There was wet warmth trailing down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized. He wondered when he’d started. He kept his head lowered in embarrassment, his face hot and wet, ejaculate glistening on his lips. Bloodraven rose then, finished with him, moving towards the pallet. He didn’t gesture for Yhalen to join him there and Yhalen wouldn’t make the move of his own accord. But if Bloodraven beckoned, he wouldn’t hesitate. Not after the threat delivered tonight.
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CHAPTER THREE
    Bloodraven used him in the morning, a casual balm to the stirring of the ogre’s morning erection, and Yhalen endured it, spreading his thighs obediently and lying on the furs, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth from the discomfort of it. He didn’t bleed this time, his body stretched enough from two days of similar activity to accept the ogre’s large member. Bloodraven had yet to use him without the gift of lubricating, oily salve, being more careful of his possessions than his peers.
    When Bloodraven left, armed and armored to perform whatever mischief his small army was about, Yhalen was left to while the time away alone, tethered in the tent. Vorjd came eventually, silent and grim as usual, to empty the chamber pot and bring fresh water for the basin. He also brought with him a small, human sized bowl of