Feast by Alex M. Quinlan
	"Honey?" he called me from upstairs. "Yeah?" I replied absently from the depths of my crossword. "C'mere." Sighing, I left what I was doing and wandered up the stairs. Into the bedroom, where he lay naked, book in hand. "Hmmmmm?" I mumbled, crossing my arms over where my robe threatened deshabille, my mind still lost in the mists of across and down, and how many letters. "I'm hungry." I blinked, astonished. Angry almost.. why did he have to call me up here for this? "So what do you want ME to do ab--" My anger chopped off as his motion -- too fast to see -- landed me on my back, on the bed, my hands over my head under a loop of rope. When my eyes cleared, he was looking down at me with that grin. "I want you to be my food." he purred, and started to feed. Teeth on my arm, my bicep, a light scraping so close to tickling that I am helpless to do anything but writhe. I babbled incoherently, stammering out nonsense noise, not even sure what I'm trying to say in the sudden swirling of sensations. His tongue slid over that ridge of tendon that leads right to my breast, a nip falling here and there over the swell, onto the traitorously hardening nipple that made me squirm, flowing into a sudden attack at my neck. My breath stopped dead, my body arched in tension. Nipples hard from the tease, I quiver, moaning. His mouth, his teeth hover over my throat, and my body reacts without my mind: adrenalin, fight/flight, both are thwarted by the rope, by the part of me that trusts, that knows he can't rip my throat out no matter how hard we play at it. He growled softly, and retreated over my body as it trembled in reaction. He knew he'd proven his point, knew he'd gotten me to the place where I'm all reaction to his desire. His mouth drifted down, back to the breast, soft and overlush as it lay flattened on my chest like an empty bota, the skin stretched out from feeding babies. He suckled, hard, as if to feed again, wanting that other bodily fluid that brought him so much delight once upon a time. His tongue drew along the nipple, the stroke that quivers the nerves in memory of the sweet sharp sting of let-down. I realized my hips were arching, rocking up, my legs splayed wide... no fluid flows from my breasts, but elsewhere... oh yes. He turned his body, leaving my unproducing teats, and nibbled, nipped, gnawed his way down ... along the edge of the nerves, along the edge of my squirm. Teeth and tongue in the crease of my hip, my body flinched, my voice mewled as I quivered in response. "Oh gods," the words fell from my mouth as he moved to straddle me, knees bestride my head and mouth over my fur. "Yum!" I heard in a Gremlin growl. I heard it, but lost the sense of it as my eyes opened to the cock dangling over me. He knows what this does to me, knows exactly how to hold himself to keep it from me. His head dipped down and licked across my swollen lips; the groan he evoked escaped with my half-grunted exhalation as I helplessly, futilely lunged upward to try to wrap my lips around his sweet shaft. 'He's doing this deliberately', some part of me thought, but the scent of his cock and balls filled my head like a drug. The entire world narrowed, and while my cunt flooded in response to what he was doing, all my need, all my heart was for tasting cock, all my focus was the hunger that opens my mouth and has me begging wordlessly to be filled. I heard the wet smacking, felt the nibbling, the licking over my clit as he took what he wanted, his arms curled under my thighs to hold me open, open to his hunger. Open to quench his thirst, he knows I cannot cum this way, he knows I only grow in need when held like this, only grow in hunger for release, producing the fluid he calls nectar. His cock swayed over me, and all I could do was lick the tip. I heard him laugh at my predicament. He lowered his hips, a gift, a boon, a sweetsalt fulfillment, and I sucked and licked and gobbled it all down, slobbering obscenely over the lollipop I'd been given. Arching again, I tried to get my head back, to get the right position, the correct angle for him to stroke right through to my throat. My body trembled with the effort, with the need that was building... I felt the trembling quivering inside my cunt, the opening and closing of the tunnel as the muscles spasmed and clenched at nothing, and at the same time I knew nothing at all but the cock in my mouth, the bliss of sucking, the taste the scent filling my being. He groaned and I echoed it, unconsciously deliberate, and he groaned again as the vibrations flowed over the head rubbing so deeply against my palate. He licked up the flood drooling from me, sliding his tongue almost all the way to my anus, a stretch of neck and lips and tongue for him in this position. Pulling his head back, he wrapped his lips around my clit. Teeth lightly holding at the base, he flickered his tongue over the bud as he pulled his cock from my mouth. Still stroking, the same movement of his hips moved his cock over the flesh of my face now, keeping it from my mouth, rubbing over me as he wanted to rub, regardless of my orally-fixated addiction. It's just as well, as I broke out in screams. Squealing, I bucked and thrashed, heedless of the teeth enclosing my clit. But he knows me well, knows my reactions, knows how to ride me and keep the focus despite my thrashing. He knows, as well, how the feeling of spit and slick precum rubbed into my face sent me deep into the space where all I am consists of the desperate need to be facefucked. He knows that now I'm nothing but need, not even able to notice the building orgasm he was pushing me to... and this was his food, this control of me. "PLEASE!" I screamed, not knowing what I was driven to beg for... for cock, for cum, for something. "PLEASE!" over and over, every ragged breath a cry, a plea for release, even though I didn't know whose. Mine, to end the body-fear of the teeth? His, for his seed/spunk/mess splashing over my face, marking my need for those with eyes to see? I heard him laugh, and he let go my clit and dove his mouth down over my mound, his tongue again lapping up the juices that drooled from me. "Oh gods!" I sobbed, trembling on the ragged edge. I was no longer screaming now that he was off that focussed ride, but still I was unable to approach any closer. I thrashed my head side to side, trying desperately to get his cock in my mouth again, get something, get anything, get everything in my world. A laugh again, and then his body shifted, and I was pinned by his weight, unable to move as he suddenly worked for his own release. Gasping, writhing, shaking as he took me again without bothering to aim into my mouth, my whole body tensed with his, riding his sudden peaking. He howled into my cunt as his body bucked, semen pulsing between us, sliding through the interface of skin and sweat, melding us, marking me for those with eyes to see. His howling filled me, body and soul and again I screamed, wordless need pouring from me for as long as his mouth remained on any part of me. Somewhere, somewhen, there was an ending to the need. I wasn't even sure if it was mine, or only his. Slowly I realized he was no longer over me, and I felt something near my mouth. Opening my eyes, I found his hand there, dripping with his cum. He feds it to me, scooping it from my body, finger-dip by finger-dip, and I sucked his fingers clean each time as avidly and hungrily as I sucked his cock before... suckbliss, fixation, feeding my desperate need to have my mouth filled. I squirmed and shivered, my body heating again as I sucked, and I suddenly realized that my legs were bound now also, bound apart in the way that keeps me from orgasm. My scratchy throat felt the cum sliding down, the air passing through in and out, as he feds me my reward. This only made me squirm and shake more, ropes and surrender and suckling and cumtaste swirling in my body, my unconscious whimpering clear indication of exactly what he was feeding, and what he wasn't. This, too, was his food. And mine, to give it to him.