Male Lizardfolk/Argonian x f. human - Part 3 (nsfw) (Patreon)

This one is basically all smut. Enjoy!

Content: Sofie receives oral, there's some cursing, a very light bit of bloodplay??? kinda??? (she gets a teeny tiny little injury on her thigh and he licks her blood), fingering, mention of sheath, slick, some passing imagery around devouring but no actual vore or anything, tender aftercare, falling asleep after coming

Wordcount: 4456 (isn't that a satisfying number?)

Part One | Part Two

Sofie drew in a long, tremulous breath as Crimson-Throat smiled, standing in front of her and towering over her. 

He jutted his chin at her and she shifted back on the bed, but as she let her legs trail, he leaned down and grabbed her ankles, pinning her in place. She felt the muscles in her thighs tremble under the strength of his grip, and his claws pricked at her skin where he held her like manacles around her ankle joints. 

“That’s far enough,” he growled. 

He crawled his taloned hands up her leggings and deftly finished off the laces at her waistband with a practised flick of his talons through the knot. 

“Lift your hips for me, lovely,” he rumbled and she obliged as he drew them down, leaving her modest underwear in place for the moment. He abandoned the leggings on the floor and parted her soft thighs with his hands, claw-tips leaving sparking pinpricks on her skin, but not hard enough to puncture. 

Sofie made to remove her top too, but he pulled his lips back and snarled. “Leave that on. For now.”

“But…”

“On,” he barked, claws tightening to just-shy of painful, and she gasped and rocked her hips, head lolling backwards as she propped herself up on her hands. 

He lowered his head, his quills rising like the hackles on a werewolf as he did, and he let out another of those damned-sexy rumbles that filled the room and seemed to make her ears ring.

“Fuck, you smell so good already,” he growled as he set one knee on the bed between her legs and brought his muzzle to the top of her thighs and inhaled. He nudged against her clit through the thin fabric and groaned, claws stinging once again. His bone-white tail lashed behind him as he bent over the bed and nosed at her crotch. 

“Please,” she gasped, trying to writhe but he held her fast.

Still rumbling, Crimson-Throat pressed his tongue against her folds through her underwear, and he let out a shuddering groan. 

The pressure of his tongue as he simply pushed firmly against her through the fabric sent shocks through her whole body and up her spine, and she let her head hang back as she fought the urge to move and shift to get him to do more than just… press. 

“Please,” Sofie all but sobbed when he did nothing at all. His hot breath fanned out against the tender flesh at the very top of her thighs, and she felt him swallow as his tongue nudged briefly upwards against her clit through the fabric.

She was suddenly wetter than she’d ever been in her whole life, and she struggled to catch her breath as a fire of want ignited and began to sweep through her whole body. Yes, she’d been with other people before, but no one had really stopped simply to… enjoy her like this. Ok, that orc mercenary had definitely enjoyed the taste of her, but he hadn’t lingered quite like this. She’d never felt so seen, so vulnerable, so exposed, so… aroused. 

“Crimson… please…” she whispered, arms shaking until she dropped down onto her elbows, unable to keep herself fully upright.

At the little whimpering sound that escaped her, or perhaps at the sound of his name, half-articulated on her lips, Crimson-Throat finally moved. 

With his teeth, he tore at the fabric of her underwear and ripped it clean off her body, tossing it aside with a flick of his head like a predator at a kill, and returning with his mouth wide open, as though he really was going to devour her. When his upper teeth pricked over her mound and his hot tongue delved between her folds, she bucked, and when he lapped at her, tasting, testing to see what she liked, she fairly screamed. 

His tongue moved slowly and with care, but with the kind of determination that told her he really had meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t back off without good reason. He wanted this. He wanted to taste her growing arousal; to savour everything she had for him. 

In long, slow strokes he laved his blood red tongue over her like the sun on a rare, late summer afternoon: decadent and dedicated to nothing but pleasure. His hands kept her thighs apart, spread far wider than she would ever have settled herself if she’d been the one in charge of what was coming, and at every shuddering spasm that passed through her, he rubbed his cool, hard cheek against her skin and rumbled something that steadied her on a soul-deep level. 

Without speaking a word, he was telling her that he had her; that she was safe despite the bloody markings and the brutish bulk of his body and the sharpness of those teeth and claws pressing into the sheer silk of her skin. 

Crimson-Throat slowly, attentively, let the tip of his tongue delve inside her before curling it against the underside of her clit as he withdrew, creating the most incredible, sparking sensation that ran from deep inside her to the skittering surface of her skin. 

“Oh holy —” she choked out as he did it again, silencing her with another one. 

The pressure of his taloned hands slowly parting her even further, as if he could drive his arrowhead muzzle inside her to explore her from the inside out, made the pleasure sharp and visceral, only to be soothed again by that gentle rumbling and the insistent pressure of his tongue in all the right places. 

She felt her orgasm kindle and flare, building like a mage’s spell inside her until she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it back. He must have felt it too — tasted it — because he gave an encouraging groan and doubled down, refusing to back off as she squirmed and gasped in his grip. 

“I’m going to —”

His teeth pinched her mound where his upper jaw rested against it, allowing his long, thick, reptilian tongue to slide right inside her, and as he pressed flush against her, she realised he was swallowing everything her body was giving him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Mustering the last of her strength, she glanced down her body, and damn-near came at the sight of him buried at the apex of her legs, with his eyes rolled back and that protective veil draped across them. She might have been the one dancing on the verge of ecstasy, but it wasn’t Sofie who was being devoured. Crimson-Throat was utterly consumed by the act his mouth was making on her. His tail lashed back and forth and his back arched, and she realised he was rutting his hips against his right leg that was bent awkwardly beneath him on the bed. 

“Wait,” she whispered, “Wait…”

He slowed but didn’t stop, didn't pull back — as though he was having trouble processing what he’d heard. 

“Crimson-Throat, wait,” she said again, breathless and gasping. 

Finally, with a growl and a snarl, he drew his mouth off her and she felt her core clench at both the absence and at the sight of him. His already shiny scales now gleamed with her arousal, and he seemed to be having trouble getting his eyes to open, to get that membrane to slide back. When he managed it, and the blood red eyes focused on her with their slit pupils blown wide and black, he looked like a killer interrupted in the middle of his crime. 

He didn’t speak, but he just stared at her, waiting. 

“Come inside me,” she whispered, and watched his lips twitch with a growl. 

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

For a moment, he just growled at her. It took her a moment to realise he was struggling to speak. Finally he found the words, but they came out stilted and rough as a block of granite hewn from a quarry. “I need… to taste you… first…” 

“You promise you’ll let me have my way with you afterwards?” she smirked, and he bared his sharp teeth at her, but he nodded all the same. “Go on then,” she sighed in mock defeat, flopping back onto the bed and spreading her thighs in invitation. 

When he stalled again, just staring at her, she skimmed her palm down over her breast, making her tight nipple more obvious through the fabric, and he lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek against the warmth of her inner thigh. His eyes rolled shut but snapped open again when she drew her fingertips through the slickness of her sex and teased her swollen, sensitive clit with a fingertip. He watched her, mesmerised, cataloguing the movement, but when she held out her hand to him, he moaned and crawled the last few inches up the bed to her and opened his mouth. 

First though, she smeared herself across his nostrils with her index and middle fingers, and at the scent of her there, his eyes rolled back like a shark about to attack. 

He groaned before the sound dissolved into a deep, low-frequency rumbling like a thunderstorm right overhead, before his tongue slipped out and he drew her fingers into his dangerous mouth full of wicked teeth. It coiled around her as he cleaned her thoroughly, then he withdrew, and replaced the tantalising traces with the rest of it, right at the source. 

Sofie lost herself to the waves of glorious heat that washed through her as he took her back to that trembling edge again, then, as he focused his attentions down to the place where she’d so recently run her own fingers in a particular, familiar pattern, he copied it with deft ease with his tongue, and she tumbled over the edge into an orgasm that had her back locking up and her stomach spasming, her thighs clenching around his head until the spines on the sides pressed so hard into her that she was sure they’d broken the skin. 

She barely managed to choke on the yell that threatened to escape her and alert the entire inn to their activities, and it came out as an ugly, garbled sob that she might have regretted if she’d had the wits to register it, but Crimson-Throat seemed to love it, keeping his tongue pressed flat to her clit as she lurched and shuddered through the last of her orgasm in his arms. 

“Fucking hell,” she hissed as she collapsed onto the sheets again, muscles slack and heart hammering. “Fucking… fuck…”

For a moment, the Argonian didn’t move, but when he nudged himself into action again, he straightened and regarded her with a tilted head. 

She cracked her eyes open and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the way he was focused on her inner thighs. His quills were drawn back tight in a way that broadcast feelings of intense distress. “What is it?” she asked, struggling to push herself up. Tiny beads of blood adorned her pale skin like rubies on a silk counterpane, and she relaxed. 

“Crimson… it’s alright…”

“I hurt you,” he grunted, his voice still rough. 

“I’m the one who squeezed you so tight it drew blood,” she laughed. “It feels good,” she added when she’d catalogued it. “Really good. Come here.”

He didn’t though. He reached his right hand down and traced his thumb across her skin just below the tiny, crimson constellation. 

She took a gamble and whispered, “You can clean it up if you like…”

His gaze flicked up to meet hers at that, and she smiled. The look on his face was the one of someone torn right down the middle. The predator in him ached to taste her blood, but the caring protector was obviously devastated that she’d bled because of him. 

So, again, Sofie ran her fingers across her skin, this time through the tiny beads of blood, and raised her hand. There was barely enough there to stain her fingertips, but Crimson-Throat’s nostrils flared and he leaned in, drawn irrevocably by his instincts. He closed his mouth around her fingers and let out the most delicious groan. 

His eyes rolled back again and he brought his left hand to hold her wrist steady so she couldn’t pull away. As if she wanted to. 

When she lowered her hand, he went with it, and she placed him at her thighs again. This time, his rasping tongue drew long lines across the pinpricks she’d pressed into her skin and there was something new, something indescribably erotic about the act that had her clenching again. He smelled the second blooming of arousal in her body and, once he’d thoroughly cleaned her skin, he licked lightly across her folds before glancing up at her. 

“My turn,” she reminded him, and he nodded. 

Meek and almost docile now, he allowed her to guide him up the bed to lie beside her, and for a moment, she lay there looking at him. He was on his left side, facing her, with his heavy head on the pillow and his taloned feet off the end of her bed, and the bulwark of his shoulders filling her vision. The blood red markings that poured down his white scales from that strangely straight line across his throat was so stark in the light of the single candle burning on her bedside table that she almost couldn’t believe it wasn’t blood. Reaching for him, she ran her fingertips down the pattern of his scales, and felt the rumble that began anew in his chest. 

“You’re really sensitive, aren’t you?” she murmured and he nodded, eyes closed, jaw soft. 

Carefully, she pressed her palm against his hip and, thinking of the quills along his spine asked, “Can you roll on to your back for me and still be comfortable?” 

“Mn,” he grunted, and he let her push him over onto his back. 

His white, muscular thighs fell slightly apart and she saw that his mound and sheath were wet with slick, the entrance puffy and swollen where he’d been grinding himself while he pleasured her. Inside, she knew his cock would be stiffening, and if his scales were that sensitive already, she knew exactly how to return the favour. 

Sofie took her time over his torso, pushing and nudging the edges of the plates of his natural armour until he thrust his head back into the pillow and let out a gasping groan, his chest bucking and heaving like his small boat on the swollen sea. 

“If I do something you don’t like —” she began but he interrupted her with a shake of his head. 

“You couldn’t.”

She chuckled and propped herself up on one elbow to lean down over him and press a kiss to his cool cheek. “Alright,” she said, still speaking soft and low. Few creatures had better hearing than Argonians after all. “But if I do, you tell me. Promise?”

“Mnf.”

“Crimson-Throat?” 

“Yes,” he finally ground out, lifting his lips into that dangerous grimace again. It only made her laugh, and she wiped the expression clean off his face when she dipped her middle finger slowly, respectfully, into his sheath. 

His whole body lurched, his spine lifting into an arch like a bridge made of white marble. 

His cock was hard inside, and the walls of his sheath were puffy and slick beneath her fingertip. The soft give in those muscles compared to the solid press of his cock made for a gorgeous contrast, and she took her time running her fingertip around the inside of his sheath from front to back, then around to the other side of his cock. 

“Fuck,” he rumbled, his body undulating and shuddering. “Fuck… Fuck that’s… Fuck… Fuck!”

“Too much?”

“Never,” he grunted, adjusting his hips.

His serrated tail was trapped beneath him at the root, but the rest of it lolled out like a white serpent across the bedsheets. Taking its weight in her other hand, she cradled it, running her thumb across the pattern of scales on it, and he thrashed once before letting its weight drop back into her palm. 

At the front of his sheath, where a human’s clit might be, he seemed particularly sensitive, so she circled her fingertip there until his spine began to lock up like the cogs in a great dwarven mechanism and his cock eventually pushed free of the sheath entirely. 

Huge, dark pink at the root and white at the spear-like tip, his cock was dripping with his arousal, with threads of it connecting it still to his sheath even as his tip beaded and wept pre-come all over himself and down his length. Its sinuous length curved as though seeking the warmth and strength of her grip, so she obliged him by wrapping her fingers around its slick length and squeezing. She couldn’t close her fingers entirely around his girth, but by twisting her wrist as she stroked upwards, she seemed to light him up all the same. 

Glancing up at his face, she saw that his head was thrust back into the pillows and his deadly maw was thrown wide. His eyes had rolled back behind their protective veils, and his great, blood-scaled chest and throat were heaving. To her surprise, she saw that the gills — which usually remained sealed shut on dry land — had opened as well, as though he couldn’t claw in enough air through his mouth alone. He had three on each side, and the flesh under the white scales was a stark, shocking red. To her, they looked like open wounds and for a moment, her mind stalled before it caught up and she realised what she was seeing. 

“Gods, you’re really close already, aren’t you, Crimson-Throat?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “Yes, Sofie, I am. Please… Please… let me finish…”

“I wanted you to finish inside me,” she murmured, mostly to herself. 

“Fuck… You’d… You’d better hurry, if… I’m…” he babbled, a little incoherent as more slick seemed to gush from his sheath. It rolled down the pale crease between his legs and Sofie found herself fascinated by the way it caught the candlelight. She crooked her finger and dragged her knuckle up the tender, delicate skin that was shining wet from his slick just below his sheath, and he yelled, cock twitching, sheath contracting in a spasmodic flutter. “I can’t… Sofie, I can’t hold back…”

His clawed feet flexed, the talons powerful enough to rip her to ribbons, though she was well out of their reach. And his tail lashed again, back and forth as he fought for control of himself. He was fighting a losing battle. 

As much as she had wanted him to fill her up, she now wanted to watch him give into it more, so she chuckled softly and worked her fist up his cock to the tip and back down again in a steady, building rhythm that brought a constant, quivering tremble back to his whole body. “Alright, Crimson-Throat. Come for me. Let me see you come. Let me watch you make a mess of yourself instead of me.”

He lifted his head but he was still blinded by the veils across his eyes, and as he did, his impressive stomach muscles clenched, his hips bucked, his sheath began to contract in a regular, staccato rhythm, and she felt his cock begin to pulse in her hand. 

Crimson-Throat’s jaw snapped shut, his teeth bared in that dangerous snarl, his reptilian lips pulled back, and he began to come. 

His cock spurted in thick ropes all over his red and white belly, and slick was squeezed from his sheath by his muscles like the juice of a peach. On a whim, she slid her finger and thumb into his sheath, one on each side of his spilling cock right at the root, and he damn-near sat bolt upright at the added stimulation. 

His jaw unlocked and opened wide in a silent scream of ecstasy, a long line of drool slipping out between his sharp teeth to join the mess on his belly, while his whole body convulsed, and she caressed the fluttering muscles at the base of his cock and ran her fingertips along the silken gully of in the depths of his sheath. 

His silent, snarling orgasm went on forever. 

She hadn’t known a creature could make so much mess, but his lower belly was covered in it by the time he finally stopped and collapsed back down, shaking and trembling and twitching, onto the mattress again. 

Slowly, mindful of how oversensitive he would be, she slid her fingers free of his sheath, caressing him just once as she withdrew, but she continued to hold his cock as it gave a last few twitches in her hand, dribbling release out onto his scales. 

His thickly muscled thighs stopped twitching a moment or two later, and he lay inert and barely breathing, with his huge cock softening in her hand and his blood-crimson throat on full display. The huge, powerful Argonian lay utterly exposed and vulnerable in her bed, and she smiled down at him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, but either he didn’t hear or didn’t have the capacity to respond, because she got no answer. 

Carefully, she let go of his cock and let it lie, soft and wet and fully unsheathed, across his left hip while she crossed the room to the bronze washstand and picked up a couple of clean squares of linen. She wiped his glossy scales clean with the first, then used the second to wash him, and all the while he just lay there, comatose with those membranes across his red eyes and his breath rattling in and out of his chest. His cock slowly retracted into his sheath in a series of weak, clenching spasms while she worked, though it was still half-out by the time she was done and his sheath was visibly puffy and swollen still.

When she had cleaned him as best she could, she slid her hands under his muscular right arm and lifted it just enough to allow her to slide in beside him, drawing the rumpled sheets up from the end of the bed to cover them both. Blowing the candle out, she plunged the room into complete darkness. 

After a while, her eyes adjusted, and she thought he looked oddly like a ghost, gleaming softly in the dark. She laid her head on his massive shoulder and lay there, listening to the natural wheeze of his breath as it moved through his strangely cool body, and the steady thudding of his heart. He felt like a slumbering dragon beside her, and she’d never felt safer. 

Crimson-Throat didn’t stir for the whole night, but when she woke in the morning, she found herself locked in place on her left side, with the solid cage of his arms and body wrapped around her back. He’d obviously moved in the night to lie on his side as well, and the two of them were slotted against each other without an inch of space between them. 

His head was resting on the pillow just above hers, her hair spilling down the line of his red throat, and two nubs of horn that adorned his lower jaw were just lightly resting against her scalp. 

Finally, nature called, and she tried to extricate herself from his arms. It seemed utterly fruitless until he eventually came-to with a twitch and released his vice-like grip on her with an inarticulate grunt. 

“Morning,” she chuckled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Mmph,” he mumbled, burrowing into the warm imprint her body left behind in the sheets.

When she returned, he was a little more sentient, and he opened his ruby red eyes when she slipped back into the room and shrugged off the jacket she’d donned to protect her from the biting wind on the way to the inn’s outhouse. 

“Morning,” she smiled at him. 

He nodded slowly and started to sit up. 

“You alright?” she asked, coming to sit beside him on the bed. “Last night was kind of… intense.”

He stared at the outline of her breasts in the thin, linen shirt she’d also put on for modesty and warmth, and then let his eyes return to her face. “Yes,” he said. “You should know though, that… I didn’t intend to linger last night. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you by staying here past my welcome.”

“Crimson, you were more than welcome in my bed last night, and you’re still welcome in it now.”

He blinked, and as she watched the membranes flit across his red eyes like silk over gemstones, she remembered the way they’d locked protectively over his eyes the previous night as he’d come so hard he’d nearly folded himself in half. 

He must have smelled her flare of arousal because he let out a long, deep, low-frequency rumble. “Sofie,” he growled. 

She shrugged and laughed, pulling off her top and shimmying out of her trousers to show she had no underwear on. “Move over,” she said as she lifted the sheets up. “I’m cold.”

“Not compared to me you’re not,” he rumbled, reaching for her waist with careful, clawed hands and drawing her down against his solid body all the same. 

“Well, you’ve stolen my heat all night, perhaps it’s only fair to return a bit now,” she laughed, nudging the curve of her ass up against his smooth pelvis. 

His jaws closed on her neck before she’d registered what he’d done, but he didn’t bite down hard enough to pierce her skin. He held her there for a long few moments and then unclenched his shaking jaws and growled, “Stop. Moving.”

“Or what?” she purred. 

All she got was another shuddering rumble, like a cave-in underground. 

“Or what, Crimson?” she insisted, and looked over her shoulder at him. 

“Gods, you make me want to devour you, Sofie,” he ground out, his hips rutting against her from behind, his claws pricking her skin as he held her in place. She could feel that he was getting wet already.

Still craning her neck to keep eye contact, she smiled, went limp against him, and said, “I’ve got absolutely nothing to do for the next few days, Crimson. You can devour me all you like.”

His eyes veiled themselves, he swallowed thickly, and after nuzzling against her neck for a few pounding heartbeats, he shifted and let her roll lazily onto her back. 

Crimson-Throat parted her thighs again and lowered his face, eyes still blind with desire. “For the next few days then,” he purred against her sensitive, swollen sex, “You’re mine.”

_

Hope you enjoyed it! Sorry I made you wait so long for the conclusion!

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