Smut for Goblin
Apr. 29th, 2007 04:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrBecause she is too good to me ^___^
"Are all goblins as fussy as you?" Geoffrey asked, teasing.
Thorley looked up to glare at him, setting aside the shirt he was mending. Geoffrey rather hoped the mending took awhile; he was quite fond of Thorley bare-chested. Completely naked was better, but bare-chested definitely would suffice for the time being. The dark, smooth skin, the trim muscle, but so slender he could just see hints of Thorley's ribs. "I am not fussy," Thorley hissed.
Geoffrey grinned and shifted to tuck his arms behind his head, not missing a bit the way Thorley's eyes skittered briefly up and down the length of his body. "Yes, you are. I'm perfectly fine and yet here you are making me lie down and do absolutely nothing."
All that earned him was another glare. "You just gathered brightleaf yesterday morning. Three leaves. I can see you still feel sick, no matter how much of that tea you drink. You're not moving until I say you're moving."
"Fussy," Geoffrey said with a smile. And he only felt the slightest bit dizzy. So long as he didn't get up and run around the field like a madman, he was fine. He was much more interested in the fact that it was a nice spring day, nothing but sunshine, the air sweet with fresh flowers, nothing but the rippling stream and a few buzzing insects making noise.
No one to come running up in a panic over a twisted ankle or mild burn – honestly, they came to him for the most trivial things sometimes. In short, he had Thorley all to himself and was more or less feeling up to enjoying that fact.
If only Thorley would quit his fussing long enough to appreciate the situation.
Thorley growled at being labeled fussy, but did not rise to the bait, instead going to fixing the shirt that had fallen victim to a dwarf. He bit the end of the thread off as he finished, stowing the needle and remaining thread, then lifting the shirt.
"Must you put it back on?" Geoffrey asked with a sigh. "If you're not going to take advantage of our situation, you could at least give me something nice to look at."
Dropping the shirt, Thorley looked at him – a spark lighting in his eyes, a spark Geoffrey was very happy to see. He felt an answering heat spread through him, anticipation quickening his breath. But Thorley only frowned mutinously. "You're still recovering."
"Goblin, I've been doing this for years. I'm fine." He shifted again, moving so he was braced on his elbows, liking the way the new pose made Thorley swallow, made those blue eyes heat as they examined every last bit of him. "Now are you going to take advantage of our solitude or will I have to take care of myself?"
Snarling something in goblin-speech, Thorley dropped his shirt in the grass and all but lunged at him, braced on hands and knees over Geoffrey. "You should be resting."
Geoffrey let himself fall back down on his bedroll, reaching up to twine his arms around Thorley's neck and drag him down for a kiss. Thorley resisted for barely a second, then began kissing him back, slow and thorough.
Always so gentle. The one time he'd accidentally gotten carried away and sliced a small cut in Geoffrey's lip with those sharp teeth, Thorley had all but killed himself in shame. Humming in pleasure, Geoffrey loosed one arm to find the thong holding Thorley's hair back and tugged it free, then tangled his hands in the soft, blue-black strands. All the while the kiss continued, wet and hot, his tongue just grazing those wicked teeth.
Thorley did nothing halfway, from the most menial chore to the simplest kiss. Brightleaf was not half so potent as being the focus of that intensity, that driving discipline.
Claw-tipped fingers picked delicately at the laces of his shirt, then it was shoved up over his head – and left tangled on his arms. He struggled to get out of it, but Thorley's ever surprising strength held him still, then made certain that Geoffrey's arms would not be free until the goblin said. Thorley smirked. "Now, now. You're still weak." He leaned down until their noses were touching. "And I'm fussy. Do as you're told."
Breath catching, heat pooling with sudden, near-painful hardness between his legs, Geoffrey nodded and shifted so he could take another kiss, moaning Thorley's name into it as the goblin set about removing the rest of their clothes.
It took longer than it should have, as Thorley paused frequently to lick, nip, or gently score his skin with those delicate-looking but razor sharp claws. Dizzying, that. More than once Geoffrey had seen what those claws could do, the amount of blood they could draw with a quick, slight movement. Yet never did they hurt him, leaving nothing more than faint red lines. Marks Geoffrey never tired of seeing.
He whimpered as Thorley's warm hands settled on his legs. He spread his thighs in blatant invitation, bending his knees slightly, jerking sharply as those teeth bit gently down on the delicate skin of one inner-thigh. "Thorley!" He bucked sharply as his balls were mouthed, a hot tongue stroking, hands grasping his hips to hold him still as the torturous tongue moved from his sac to his cock, bathing it, lapping at the leaking tip.
Then abruptly his cock was abandoned, and Geoffrey groaned in protest, squirming in Thorley's grasp, desperate to get that mouth back where he wanted it.
But then it was at his entrance and Geoffrey rocked, his hoarse shout filling the clearing, startling several birds. He moaned low, head falling back, fabric biting in his arms as he tried to move them, hips moving as he rode the tongue penetrating him, preparing, claws just barely biting into his thighs as Thorley spread him wide, held him open to the dizzying onslaught.
And dizzy was most certainly what he felt. The breeze cooled the sweat on his skin, making his nipples tight, a delicious contrast to the heat that burned from deep inside, the hot mouth that elicited another long, needy groan.
More than a few people had called him crude names, unable to believe that a decent human – even a healer – would take up so with a goblin. At times like this, Geoffrey felt rather hard-pressed to deny the epithets. He was always more than willing to spread his legs for his goblin, or whatever else Thorley might ask – assuming Geoffrey didn't ask or do first. He would have laughed, but the sudden absence of heat at his entrance made him moan with loss.
But then that fine body was covering his, and Geoffrey swore softly. He wanted to feel the sharp bones of those hips and trace every knob of Thorley's spine before smoothing along that fine chest and petting the flat stomach.
Then Thorley kissed him again an Geoffrey decided that would do for now, though it would be better with touching and Thorley, the bastard, knew it was driving him mad.
Geoffrey hissed, thoughts skittering away as a hard, blunt heat settled at his entrance, gasping at the slight burn. But the pain was gone nearly as quickly as it had come, and Geoffrey shuddered to feel Thorley buried inside him. He didn't care what names people called him; they were a small price to pay for moments like this.
He rolled his hips, laughing breathlessly at the growl that elicited from Thorley. But the laughter cut off sharply as Thorley slowly withdrew – then slammed back in with a noise that was part growl, part rough goblin-speech.
When he'd once asked Thorley why he used the odd language at some times, Thorley had at first refused to explain, looking no small bit embarrassed. The most Geoffrey had ever gotten was that some things were not sufficiently expressed in common speech.
He met the next hard thrust, though with his arms tangled he could not get nearly the leverage he wanted, and from the smirk on the goblin's face, Thorley knew it.
"Fussy," Geoffrey taunted, but it lost some of its effectiveness as Thorley drove hard into him in such a way that it was all Geoffrey could do to breathe. His legs were lifted, spread almost to the point of pain, Thorley driving harder than ever and Geoffrey could do nothing but take it and beg for more. Always he was greedy for more. Never would he grow tired of his goblin, his keeper.
He came hard, screaming Thorley's name, thinking hazily that it was enough to scare off even whatever wyrms might be in the area. And if his scream wasn't enough to do it, Thorley's was, as the goblin came hard, pulsing deep inside him, filling Geoffrey with wet heat.
"Mm…much better….than resting…" Geoffrey managed, groaning as Thorley freed his arms, easing out the stiffness by stroking the lines of Thorley's sweat-slick back, feeling the goblin softening inside him before Thorley slowly pulled out.
Thorley shifted just enough to kiss him, slow and lazy but as thorough as ever. "You really should be resting," he admonished lightly.
Geoffrey smiled faintly, sliding one leg lazily over Thorley's, wrapping himself around his goblin. "I am resting," he said with a yawn. "Next time you want me to properly recover, oh fussy one, don't strip in front of me."
He heard Thorley mutter something about troublesome, spoiled healers, but only smiled in response, far more interested now in a nap with the sunshine beating down upon them and his keeper beside him.
"Are all goblins as fussy as you?" Geoffrey asked, teasing.
Thorley looked up to glare at him, setting aside the shirt he was mending. Geoffrey rather hoped the mending took awhile; he was quite fond of Thorley bare-chested. Completely naked was better, but bare-chested definitely would suffice for the time being. The dark, smooth skin, the trim muscle, but so slender he could just see hints of Thorley's ribs. "I am not fussy," Thorley hissed.
Geoffrey grinned and shifted to tuck his arms behind his head, not missing a bit the way Thorley's eyes skittered briefly up and down the length of his body. "Yes, you are. I'm perfectly fine and yet here you are making me lie down and do absolutely nothing."
All that earned him was another glare. "You just gathered brightleaf yesterday morning. Three leaves. I can see you still feel sick, no matter how much of that tea you drink. You're not moving until I say you're moving."
"Fussy," Geoffrey said with a smile. And he only felt the slightest bit dizzy. So long as he didn't get up and run around the field like a madman, he was fine. He was much more interested in the fact that it was a nice spring day, nothing but sunshine, the air sweet with fresh flowers, nothing but the rippling stream and a few buzzing insects making noise.
No one to come running up in a panic over a twisted ankle or mild burn – honestly, they came to him for the most trivial things sometimes. In short, he had Thorley all to himself and was more or less feeling up to enjoying that fact.
If only Thorley would quit his fussing long enough to appreciate the situation.
Thorley growled at being labeled fussy, but did not rise to the bait, instead going to fixing the shirt that had fallen victim to a dwarf. He bit the end of the thread off as he finished, stowing the needle and remaining thread, then lifting the shirt.
"Must you put it back on?" Geoffrey asked with a sigh. "If you're not going to take advantage of our situation, you could at least give me something nice to look at."
Dropping the shirt, Thorley looked at him – a spark lighting in his eyes, a spark Geoffrey was very happy to see. He felt an answering heat spread through him, anticipation quickening his breath. But Thorley only frowned mutinously. "You're still recovering."
"Goblin, I've been doing this for years. I'm fine." He shifted again, moving so he was braced on his elbows, liking the way the new pose made Thorley swallow, made those blue eyes heat as they examined every last bit of him. "Now are you going to take advantage of our solitude or will I have to take care of myself?"
Snarling something in goblin-speech, Thorley dropped his shirt in the grass and all but lunged at him, braced on hands and knees over Geoffrey. "You should be resting."
Geoffrey let himself fall back down on his bedroll, reaching up to twine his arms around Thorley's neck and drag him down for a kiss. Thorley resisted for barely a second, then began kissing him back, slow and thorough.
Always so gentle. The one time he'd accidentally gotten carried away and sliced a small cut in Geoffrey's lip with those sharp teeth, Thorley had all but killed himself in shame. Humming in pleasure, Geoffrey loosed one arm to find the thong holding Thorley's hair back and tugged it free, then tangled his hands in the soft, blue-black strands. All the while the kiss continued, wet and hot, his tongue just grazing those wicked teeth.
Thorley did nothing halfway, from the most menial chore to the simplest kiss. Brightleaf was not half so potent as being the focus of that intensity, that driving discipline.
Claw-tipped fingers picked delicately at the laces of his shirt, then it was shoved up over his head – and left tangled on his arms. He struggled to get out of it, but Thorley's ever surprising strength held him still, then made certain that Geoffrey's arms would not be free until the goblin said. Thorley smirked. "Now, now. You're still weak." He leaned down until their noses were touching. "And I'm fussy. Do as you're told."
Breath catching, heat pooling with sudden, near-painful hardness between his legs, Geoffrey nodded and shifted so he could take another kiss, moaning Thorley's name into it as the goblin set about removing the rest of their clothes.
It took longer than it should have, as Thorley paused frequently to lick, nip, or gently score his skin with those delicate-looking but razor sharp claws. Dizzying, that. More than once Geoffrey had seen what those claws could do, the amount of blood they could draw with a quick, slight movement. Yet never did they hurt him, leaving nothing more than faint red lines. Marks Geoffrey never tired of seeing.
He whimpered as Thorley's warm hands settled on his legs. He spread his thighs in blatant invitation, bending his knees slightly, jerking sharply as those teeth bit gently down on the delicate skin of one inner-thigh. "Thorley!" He bucked sharply as his balls were mouthed, a hot tongue stroking, hands grasping his hips to hold him still as the torturous tongue moved from his sac to his cock, bathing it, lapping at the leaking tip.
Then abruptly his cock was abandoned, and Geoffrey groaned in protest, squirming in Thorley's grasp, desperate to get that mouth back where he wanted it.
But then it was at his entrance and Geoffrey rocked, his hoarse shout filling the clearing, startling several birds. He moaned low, head falling back, fabric biting in his arms as he tried to move them, hips moving as he rode the tongue penetrating him, preparing, claws just barely biting into his thighs as Thorley spread him wide, held him open to the dizzying onslaught.
And dizzy was most certainly what he felt. The breeze cooled the sweat on his skin, making his nipples tight, a delicious contrast to the heat that burned from deep inside, the hot mouth that elicited another long, needy groan.
More than a few people had called him crude names, unable to believe that a decent human – even a healer – would take up so with a goblin. At times like this, Geoffrey felt rather hard-pressed to deny the epithets. He was always more than willing to spread his legs for his goblin, or whatever else Thorley might ask – assuming Geoffrey didn't ask or do first. He would have laughed, but the sudden absence of heat at his entrance made him moan with loss.
But then that fine body was covering his, and Geoffrey swore softly. He wanted to feel the sharp bones of those hips and trace every knob of Thorley's spine before smoothing along that fine chest and petting the flat stomach.
Then Thorley kissed him again an Geoffrey decided that would do for now, though it would be better with touching and Thorley, the bastard, knew it was driving him mad.
Geoffrey hissed, thoughts skittering away as a hard, blunt heat settled at his entrance, gasping at the slight burn. But the pain was gone nearly as quickly as it had come, and Geoffrey shuddered to feel Thorley buried inside him. He didn't care what names people called him; they were a small price to pay for moments like this.
He rolled his hips, laughing breathlessly at the growl that elicited from Thorley. But the laughter cut off sharply as Thorley slowly withdrew – then slammed back in with a noise that was part growl, part rough goblin-speech.
When he'd once asked Thorley why he used the odd language at some times, Thorley had at first refused to explain, looking no small bit embarrassed. The most Geoffrey had ever gotten was that some things were not sufficiently expressed in common speech.
He met the next hard thrust, though with his arms tangled he could not get nearly the leverage he wanted, and from the smirk on the goblin's face, Thorley knew it.
"Fussy," Geoffrey taunted, but it lost some of its effectiveness as Thorley drove hard into him in such a way that it was all Geoffrey could do to breathe. His legs were lifted, spread almost to the point of pain, Thorley driving harder than ever and Geoffrey could do nothing but take it and beg for more. Always he was greedy for more. Never would he grow tired of his goblin, his keeper.
He came hard, screaming Thorley's name, thinking hazily that it was enough to scare off even whatever wyrms might be in the area. And if his scream wasn't enough to do it, Thorley's was, as the goblin came hard, pulsing deep inside him, filling Geoffrey with wet heat.
"Mm…much better….than resting…" Geoffrey managed, groaning as Thorley freed his arms, easing out the stiffness by stroking the lines of Thorley's sweat-slick back, feeling the goblin softening inside him before Thorley slowly pulled out.
Thorley shifted just enough to kiss him, slow and lazy but as thorough as ever. "You really should be resting," he admonished lightly.
Geoffrey smiled faintly, sliding one leg lazily over Thorley's, wrapping himself around his goblin. "I am resting," he said with a yawn. "Next time you want me to properly recover, oh fussy one, don't strip in front of me."
He heard Thorley mutter something about troublesome, spoiled healers, but only smiled in response, far more interested now in a nap with the sunshine beating down upon them and his keeper beside him.
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Date: 2007-04-29 10:56 pm (UTC)Burnt coffee on the house, yo!