Monthly Story - January 2026 - male naga x gn reader (nsfw) (Patreon)

Well, even though it's nearer the end of the month now than I'd like, I still want to wish you all a Happy New Year. I know that's kind of optimistic, the world being in its current state, but a ghost can hope all the same, right? I'd also like to thank you for your support - whether you're a new patron or have been with me for a long time - I'm so so grateful, and none of these stories would be possible without you.

I hope those of you following Ben & Tanner's story enjoyed its conclusion. In case you missed it - if it wasn't your cup of tea and you didn't click on the story - I'm going to give the werewolves a break for now (unless I hear otherwise?), as I suspect many of you are suffering from a bit of werewolf fatigue. A number of you seemed pretty keen for the poly liches/draugar x f. mage idea I posited in a poll the other day though, so I'll work on that, as well as the final chapter for the not-yautja lads and Laces for a Lady... both long overdue.

Anyway, here's January's story for you, posted in the middle of an absolutely wild rainstorm that's currently lashing down outside and also streaming in through our windows and soaking the carpet. Joy😅😬! I see things are getting horrendous in a meteorological sense (as well as everything else you're dealing with) across the pond this weekend, so I hope you all stay safe and warm. Take good care of yourselves in these truly dreadful times.

_

Content: established relationship, secret relationship (due to work/positions), the danger of being discovered, mention of mating/bonding (main characters, and, separately, two side characters).

Nsfw content: big, male naga has two cocks and is described as 'squirting' from his sheath during fingering and heightened arousal, and is (mostly) submissive during sex, reader is body and gender neutral, no body parts named other than 'entrance', reader receives oral and penetrative sex. Sex in marginally unconventional places (library study room, storeroom, and things get steamy but non-penetrative for the reader in the bath). Non-sexual intimacy/bathing also turns into sex.

Wordcount: 8528

(Naga's name is pronounced 'sigh-LEETH') and the story opens immediately with nsfw content. It's quite an nsfw heavy story for me.

_

Syleith’s blue-green tail writhed beneath you in a shimmering column of peacock and silver scales, buttressing you up and lifting you right off the floor as one of his two thick, ridged cocks filled you, while the other leaked and dripped all down its length and back into his sheath. 

You’d never had anyone as crazy about you as Sy was, and you couldn’t help the wild grin that split across your face as you clung to his shoulders and then skimmed your hands up the curve of his neck and into his thick, dark hair while he nailed you just-so inside, hard enough to make your head spin and your eyes roll and your legs spasm. 

“Fuck, Sy…” you laughed and he made an indistinct noise of pleasure back at you. 

Behind you on the wide, wooden table, his guard’s armour gleamed in the soft, golden glow of the mage-light lanterns around the walls of the small, secret, square chamber, and as he backed you up against the edge of that table and fucked upwards into you with all his relentless strength, his gilded helmet rocked and then finally toppled to the flagstone floor with a clatter. Neither of you reacted to it in the least. You weren’t even sure he’d heard it go.  

Sy began to pant, clutching your hips hard enough to leave you tender as he fucked you, his head thrown back in wild ecstasy, his mouth open, and his fangs dripping venom. Long, dark brown hair spilled all the way down his back in thick waves, and the leather cord he usually wore around the end of his braid was lost somewhere to the floor and the frantic effort of your grabbing hands as you clung for balance and rode out the full force of his ardour. 

“I love you,” he hissed. The steadily mounting rhythm of his hips stuttered. “Oh fuck, I love you so much…”

“Don’t stop, Sy,” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair as all the sinews of your body began to pull tight as a bowstring. “I’m so close, don’t you dare stop.”

“Never,” he smiled, thrusting upwards while the muscles of his tail rippled and the length of it flailed in the narrow confines of the library’s back corner study room. “Fuck… I’m coming, love,” he added almost as an afterthought as he arched his back, lifting you completely into the air again, and both cocks began to spill. Most nagas only came with the cock that was being stimulated, but with you, Syleith always seemed to come doubly hard, and made twice the mess. 

The powerful muscles of his sheath contracted beneath you in rhythmic spasms and he emptied himself into you with a snarling hiss, desperately pulling you down further onto him even as he kept thrusting upwards. The cock that wasn’t inside you spilled all up your front and over your thigh while you clamped your legs tighter around his waist and he groaned at the sensation of you constricting him right back. 

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he said again as his head bowed and his forehead came to rest on your collarbone with a thunk. 

Breathing hard and stippled with a fine sheen of sweat, Syleith forced his torso to straighten just enough to regard you with dazed, green-gold eyes, and when he saw in your fond but slightly exasperated expression that he’d come before you — and realised that he had, in fact, dared to stop despite his assurances to the contrary — he gave a little, embarrassed grimace and brushed his knuckles affectionately across your cheek. 

Without a word, he reared forwards with his softening cock still inside you, and carried you along with him by the momentum of his great tail. He deposited you on your back on the library table beside his gilded steel chestplate and the steel tassets which usually dangled around his hips. You barely had time to gasp at the cold wood hitting your back before the enormous naga was looming over you, hair tumbling in a wild, dark curtain over one, bronzed shoulder dusted with contrastingly blue scales, and leaning down to put his mouth to you to finish you. 

You came with a muted cry only a minute or so later, and he stayed there between your legs, suckling and licking you gently while you were still slumped back on the table, dizzy and short of breath. Finally he lifted his head, his lips and chin glistening, and looked along the length of your body to meet your eye while his tongue licked his skin clean. His pupils were blown wide and he looked drunk on the taste of you smeared all across his dark, forked tongue and down his chin.

“Fucking love you,” he slurred, then he smiled soppily and offered you a square of clean linen from your own leather bag on the floor. This was not, after all, your first session together in the library. 

The royal library where you worked. 

For the Crown. 

Where you would lose your job if they found you fucking the prince’s personal bodyguard. 

As would the prince’s bodyguard. 

You’d both be fucked, and not in the fun way. 

Fuck. 

When you were both clean and dressed again, you looked up at him and sighed, shoulders dropping with the weight of lingering, mounting anxiety. 

Syleith paused, halfway through buckling up his chestplate again, and laid his hand on your shoulder, murmuring your name. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you smiled, shifting your body and feeling the delicious stretch and ache from where he’d been inside you. No matter how many times you took him, or how much natural slick had eased his entrance, it always felt like a huge stretch. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” he asked. The abandoned buckle of his chestplate clinked against the gilded, etched steel and you turned and beckoned him down to you. He went without question and stooped for you, allowing you to fix it for him while you answered him. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” you said, speaking so quietly he had to tilt his left ear towards you to hear you properly. You felt him tense at your words, and then he fell completely still. 

Glancing up, you saw how wide his eyes had gone and heard him whisper your name in a voice that shook like a spring leaf. 

“Hey,” you said as you cupped his face in both hands. “It’s not like that. I just mean… the risk is so great, Sy. If you’re caught with me…”

The Royal Guard weren’t supposed to be celibate, per se, but they definitely weren’t allowed to form serious attachments or take a spouse or a mate. Their entire focus had to be on protecting the royal family, and for the Crown Prince’s two bodyguards, who worked in shifts, it was doubly important. While on duty, they never left the prince’s side. Sy was due back in the royal apartments in half an hour, and your heart felt heavy and full of churning fear. 

“Are you saying… this is it?”

You shook your head. “No… I don’t want to lose you, Sy, but… I don’t want to see you on trial for treason either.”

“He wouldn't do that to me,” Syleith said quickly. “His Highness wouldn’t —”

“—he might have no choice,” you snapped back. “If we’re caught —”

“—then we’ll keep being careful,” he snarled, leaning down and nuzzling his head against you, as much to soothe himself as you.

“You keep doing that and Harper will smell me on you,” you said curtly. “He’s a damned werewolf.”

Syleith actually laughed at that. “You think he won’t smell the fact that I’ve just come my brains out inside you either?” he said, arching a dark, sculpted eyebrow at you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. “Are you saying he knows about us?”

“The way I can taste that he’s mated and hasn’t told anyone? Yeah. I don’t think we have to worry about him.”

You blinked. “He’s mated? Does the prince know?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I can smell it in the change in his natural scent. A mated werewolf just smells different. I’ve never discussed it with either of them though. Not my place,” he went on, bringing both his hands to your hips and lowering his head so that he could look you in the eye. “It’s none of my concern. You, however, are.”

“I shouldn’t be,” you said, stepping away and turning your back on him. It was too much. He felt too strongly for you; loved you too much. And you in turn felt too strongly for him. It was dangerous. It — his hands landed softly on your shoulders again and he drew you back against his chest, wrapping his tail around you until you were completely coiled up in his embrace. He pressed kisses to your neck and ran his hands down your sides, enveloping you in his all-consuming love. 

“I love you,” he said, “And I would do anything to keep you safe. If you’d feel safer if we didn’t meet, then…” His whole body tightened, constricting you on a python’s reflex never to let go, but he shuddered and all his muscles slackened along his tail. You slid slowly back down to the floor, though his arms never released you completely. 

Tears welled along your lashes and your vision blurred. You reached up and clung to his forearms where they were currently crossed over your chest from behind, and shook your head. “I don’t want that,” you whispered. “I want you… I hate that we can’t… I…”

“Shh, don’t cry, love,” he crooned, peppering the crown of your head and the apple of your cheek with more kisses. “We’ll make it work.”

You nodded, sniffing. “You need to get going,” you croaked. “Or you’ll be late for your shift.”

It took him a while to uncoil his tail from you, but when he had finally managed it, you looked up at him and passed him the sword. You felt oddly like a lover offering a token to their knight before a battle, praying they’d come back safe and sound. 

“I’ll come to you tomorrow,” he said and, weak as you were, you nodded. 

You finished the rest of your shift in the archives in a daze, barely managing to muster a civil or coherent word for any of your fellow librarians and archivists, and when asked for assistance one of the regular researchers — one of a small contingent of scholars at the royal university attached to the palace — you hardly even managed to parse what they’d actually asked you. 

“Are you quite well?” the harpy asked you, concern showing in her wizened features. 

You blinked. “I’m sorry. Yes.” 

You shook yourself mentally and focused on her enquiry, but it took everything you had for you not to burst into tears at the end of your working day when you tramped back to the small, lonely room in the archivists’ quarters behind the library building itself. 

A full year you’d been with Syleith. You remembered the very first time you’d met him, when the prince himself had come into the archives in search of a volume that covered some ancient jousting laws or something. The big, muscular, handsome prince was known to love tourneys, and all the wild partying and drinking that went along with them, and he was not known for a love of reading or research, which was probably why you’d never seen him in the archives in your entire tenure there. 

When his beautiful, naga bodyguard had glanced to his left, drawn by the movement of your appearance between the shelves, he’d gone still while his prince had kept striding towards the main desk. He’d stared at you for what had felt like an eternity before he’d blinked and realised his charge had wandered out of his protection, and had slithered away after him with a series of sinuous sweeps of his great, azure and emerald tail. He’d looked back at you though, not once, but three times. 

It was unusual to see a warrior in the library, but his profession was unmistakable, even without the sword glinting at his hip and the armour that flashed in the muted mage-lights. It was in the way he carried himself and the way he moved; in the way he looked perpetually coiled for action, even as he waited behind his prince as the man leaned on the reception desk and flirted openly with the poor, flustered archivist behind it. 

Syleith had returned alone a few hours later, pretending to have been sent by the prince for more books, and had asked for you. When you’d politely told him that your area of knowledge was trade relations between this kingdom and its neighbours during the Hundred Year Strife, he’d just shrugged and said, “Any chance that has anything to do with jousting techniques?”

“I highly doubt the prince needs instruction on how to hold a lance,” you’d shot back playfully, and he’d grinned, showing his sharp, elegant fangs. 

“Neither of us does, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t practise all the same…”

“Then you should find someone who matches your own skill and experience.”

“I think I might have done,” he’d smirked, resting one toned and muscular arm on the bookshelf just beside your head and boxing you into the small aisle with the bulk of his glittering tail. The other end of the row was empty, with a clear shot at the door, so you hadn’t felt trapped, but your heart had skipped all the same. 

“I don't even know your name,” you’d whispered up at him.

He’d given it to you then, along with a kiss on your knuckles and a look that burned like embers, and you’d been stealing precious moments with him in the archives ever since. 

You were still so lost in your thoughts and fears for him the following day that you came around the corner of the shelves with a pile of books in your arms and barely registered the person standing at the end of the aisle in the main library before you’d collided with them and ricocheted off their solid figure. You landed hard on your ass with a grunt of surprise as the books cascaded down around you, and looked up into the familiar, handsome features of the prince himself. 

“Your Highness,” you gasped, scrabbling and bowing at the same time. “Please, forgive me. I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”

The big, affable man laughed though, turning properly to face his assailant and reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, hauling you upright like you weighed nothing at all and even steadying you with his other hand at your elbow. “My fault for standing on a blind corner in a thoroughfare. Are you hurt?”

“No, Your Highness, I’m not. Thank you. Again, I’m so sorry…” you said as you kept your head bowed. 

A glint of achingly familiar blue in the corner of your eye told you that it was not Harper on duty as his guard, but Syleith, and your heart thudded painfully in your chest for a moment. You found yourself immediately distracted, however, when the prince reached out for you and slid his bare knuckles under your chin to tilt your face up again. 

His eyes were a warm hazel that had a glint of gold to them, and he had the kind of features that were the envy of half the kingdom. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” he asked, and you felt the blood drain from your face. 

“Possibly, Highness. I’ve worked in the archives for years.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, releasing your chin. Then he turned to Syleith and said, “I asked Harper to meet me here for his shift. You can leave me in the capable hands of the head archivist until then, Sy.”

“Your Highness?” the naga scowled. “You know I can’t do that… Your father’s orders are that one of us —”

“—must stay with me at all times, yes, I’m aware,” the usually jovial prince said heavily. His gaze drifted past his bodyguard’s broad shoulders to the main doors of the archives though, and he stepped closer to Syleith and clapped him on the upper arm, brightening visibly. “You’re in luck, soldier. My other babysitter has just arrived. You’re dismissed.” He glanced briefly back at you and then met Sy’s gaze again. “I don’t want to see so much as a single scale of yours until your shift starts in twelve hours, am I clear?”

Syleith frowned. “Sir?”

The prince gave a single smile that struck you as terribly, painfully sad for a moment, and then strode away towards Harper. You saw the big werewolf looking at you before he nodded politely to Syleith, who returned the gesture somewhat belatedly, and then bowed low to his prince from the waist. You watched his lips form the words ‘Your Highness’, before the prince continued out of the doors of the archives and into the wider palace beyond. 

“What was that about?” you asked, and when you didn’t get an answer, you looked up at Syleith. “Sy?”

“Hm?” 

“I said, what was that all about?”

He licked his lips, his dark, forked tongue flickering along his teeth and over his fangs in a way that told you he was nervous and tasting the air for extra signals that your mere human senses would never detect. “Not sure.” Then he seemed to come back to himself with a little shiver, and he looked down at you. “How are you, anyway?”

“Good,” you said, then added in an undertone, “Missed you.”

“Mn, I missed you too,” he said. 

“We going to our usual room, or is this just a passing visit?”

He was silent for a moment, and then said, “Neither. Come with me.”

“I can’t,” you said. “I’m still working.”

“How long do you have left?”

You glanced at the enormous, gnome-forged astrolabe that was mounted on the stone wall above the main desk in the archives and pouted. “Only half an hour, actually.”

“Leave it with me,” he said with a wink, and slithered over to the desk, where the head archivist was rifling through a stack of papers.

They spoke for a few minutes, while you collected the array of fallen books and inspected them for damage. Luckily, the precious tomes were all unharmed by the run-in with the kingdom’s solid, warrior prince, and you’d just gathered them back into your arms to re-shelve them when Syleith made his way back to you with a mischievous grin plastered to his handsome face. 

“What are you up to?” you asked warily. 

“Put those down,” he said, unusually dominant. 

“What?” you asked again, laughing a little. “Sy, I can’t just —”

“Put. Those. Down,” Syleith purred, voice dropping as he leaned down over you. 

Reflexively, you glanced around, but no one was paying you the slightest bit of attention. Except for the thirteen-foot long naga currently bearing down on you like a ton of very ornamental masonry and metalwork. 

“Sy, what —?”

With a low snarl, he took the stack of books from your hands and turned away from you, setting them down on the end of one of the large study tables in the main hall of the archives behind him. Then he paused, looked over his shoulder at you and said, “Come with me.”

Without another word, he made his way towards the main doors, tail rippling sinuously back and forth, and left you standing there like one of the marble statues dotted around the palace. 

You looked over at the head archivist, who shot you a frosty look and added a rather sarcastic gesture with her hand signifying that you really should follow the prince’s bodyguard out of her archives, so with a shrug, you abandoned all your wary caution and simply scuttled after him. 

When you joined him in the marble hallway outside, you hissed, “Sy, what the fuck is going on?”

He grinned at you but said nothing, towing you along with his sheer presence, and the tug of mystery, if not by any physical tether. 

It turned out, after he led you through long corridors and up a series of twisting, red-carpeted stairways that you’d certainly never taken before, that he was leading you to his private apartments in the Royal Wing. 

The moment he’d ushered you inside and locked the door behind you, he reached for you and drew you in close, kissing all down your neck and lifting you up so he could bear you towards the bed. 

“Sy, stop, I’m all dusty from the archives,” you grimaced. 

“Bath then?” he asked, smoothly changing tack and slithering towards a door in the wall to the left of his massive bed. It looked so comfy — befitting a naga, you supposed, who liked their creature comforts — but you didn't get much time to regret not tumbling straight into it because he had deposited you beside a truly enormous, stone bath that was more like a pool. Again, appropriate enough for a naga, but still it was more luxurious than anything you’d ever used as a humble and lowly archivist.

With a twist of a gold tap, steaming water gushed out and began to fill the stone bath at a surprising rate. He turned to you and began to undo your robes, and his intimate familiarity made for quick work. He had you naked in under a minute, and moaned when he revealed your body beneath the drab, shapeless uniform. He kissed all along your collarbones and down the centre of your chest, his hands trembling noticeably as he skimmed them over your hips and down towards your groin. He didn’t seem to care that you’d spent the day working and hadn’t bathed since that morning. He licked a long stripe and groaned again, eyes fluttering closed as a spasm rippled through his body, right the way to the tip of his tail. 

“Missed you,” he groaned as he rubbed his cheek against your inner thigh. 

Your hands flew to his braid just to keep your knees from buckling as he put his mouth on you again, and you shuddered too. 

He wasn’t wearing as much as you were, but your fingers fumbled the catches of his armour so many times, it took even longer to get him naked. Eventually though, he’d shed all the pieces of his armour onto the bathroom floor, each piece hitting the stone with a resonant clank, and finally he was blessedly naked before you. 

His slit was noticeably swollen and wet, the dark tips of his cocks both visible already and he was leaking from both tips. It had begun to drip down his scales too. 

You reached your fingers for him just as he looked up from where his sword had been discarded the floor like it was a mere toothpick and not a priceless gift from the royal armoury, and as you slid your fingertips deep inside the wet heat of his sheath, he sucked in a breath and bucked his pelvis into your hand. 

His left hand flew to the rim of the bath to keep himself upright as you delved right into his sheath, feeling the ridges of his cocks beneath your fingers, searching deeper for his most sensitive place. When you found the spot at the root of his two cocks, right between them like the fragile stretch of skin between two fingers, you pressed just-so and he jolted. He flung his head back and let out a broken moan, and his slit began to squirt. His sheath filled with clear arousal which allowed both cocks to slip free with ease, fully erect and leaking everywhere too. All that arousal squeezed out of him like the juice of a ripe peach and rolled down his scales and down his tail. 

“You’re such a mess, Sy,” you whispered, teasing that spot into making him squirt again. 

“Fuck me,” he exclaimed, sagging against the side of the bath while his tail spasmed and his entire back locked up. He was completely vulnerable while you were doing that to him, and you loved it. He had to be among the most powerful and dangerous warriors in the kingdom, and there he was, collapsing helplessly underneath your relentless attentions and letting you fuck his sheath with your fingers. “Oh fuck me… fuck me.”

“I am,” you smirked, pressing again for emphasis, and he tossed you an answering smile of his own. You wiped it off his handsome face a second later by working your thumb and middle finger in tight circles over the outside of both of his cocks, one on each side and still within his sheath, and he damn-near collapsed sideways into the bath. 

“Fuck, go easy on me, love,” he laughed weakly, unable to lift himself up from where he was draped almost into the water. Every muscle in his body had disobeyed him, rendering him lax and twitching and entirely helpless under your touch.

“No. You wanted me here,” you said with the growl in your tone that he loved so much. “You have to deal with the consequences. Turn the water off or it’ll flood when we both get in.”

“Yes, love,” he slurred, turning clumsily and reaching behind him for the gilded tap. He fumbled to turn it off, his fingers slipping off the first time before he got a better grip on it and then slowly and awkwardly folded himself into the water with a splash. He turned back and looked plaintively at you, so you smiled as if you’d decided to indulge him (though really, as if you could have refused such a look anyway), and climbed into the familiar arrangement of his coiled tail. 

Being in the bath with him was new, but lying in his tail was not. He’d often made you come with just his hand, staring glassy-eyed at you in his lap, but this time the heat of the water and the steam rising around your shoulders made it all the more intimate. You let him make you come first, and when you’d recovered just enough, you made to reach for his cocks again, but he shook his head. 

“No?” you asked and he smiled and shook his head again. 

“I’ll come too quickly,” he said bashfully. “I want to be inside you, and I want you in my bed. Is that alright?”

With a fond smile, you nodded, and he helped you out of the bath when you’d recovered enough feeling in your legs. 

He took his time drying you off, and you returned the favour, though it took significantly longer with him. Still, you enjoyed the rippling pattern of green and blue beneath the fluffy, white towel as you passed it up his body from tail tip to the point where his scales melted away into dark brown skin and taut, lean muscle. You avoided his groin, since his cocks were still fully out of his sheath and he was making a mess on the bath mat even while you weren’t touching them, and when you looked up into his face, you found his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, his jaws softly parted, and his breath coming in fast, shallow pants. 

“You alright?” you asked drawing his face down to regard him better. 

“Mn,” he hummed, his eyes were half rolled back in his head and he didn’t seem able to meet your eye properly. 

“You big, goofy snake, come on,” you said fondly and guided him through the doorway and onto his bed where he coiled reflexively into a tight ball and then promptly uncoiled completely and let his tail flop over the edge and dangle onto the floor.

His cocks twitched and his sheath contracted while you gazed in open appreciation at him, and he moaned. “Ssstop ssstaring,” he slurred. 

He rarely let the susurrating hiss of his native tongue creep into his perfect Common, but when he got really worked up, his enunciation slipped into something more primal and familiar. Sometimes he even spoke entire sentences in a language you only barely understood. At the sound of it that day, you decided to make it your mission to make him forget how to speak Common entirely. 

You skimmed your hands up his tail towards his pelvis and watched his cocks bob and leak again, dribbling clear precome down their lengths from dark blue tips to milk-pale root, and you ran your fingertip slowly up over the pronounced ridges on the underside of each, going over them one at time until he was arching his humanoid spine and choking on all his pent up desire. 

His sheath contracted again with a wet sound, and you dipped your other hand into it just as it flooded again with more slick arousal than you’d ever known him to produce. “Sy, are you alright?” you asked, even as you kept pressing teasing circles against the silk-smooth muscle of his inner walls. 

He nodded frantically. “Need you,” he moaned desperately. “Need you, please… I — oh fuck —!” He cursed as you pressed down again between his cocks and he began to squirt, muscles contracting. 

“You always get so wet for me, but I’ve never known you this wet, Sy…”

“Need…” he choked. “Pleasssssssse…”

“Ask me properly.”

He struggled to open his eyes and his tail thrashed once from side to side, failing mindlessly as he fought to focus on you. “Pleasssssse love… ffffuck me… ffffuck me t-till I come all over mysssssssself…”

His consonants had turned breathy, elongating and whispering, and you allowed yourself a self-satisfied smirk as you crawled a little closer to him. 

While one hand was occupied in idly stroking up and down his cocks, you pressed kisses to his dark, rippling abdomen and even delved your tongue briefly into his belly button. He yelled and arched upwards, cocks dripping into your fist and onto his lower belly. They were writhing softly against each other in your grip, as if seeking more stimulation of their own accord. You suspected that if you let go of them, they’d twist against each other completely. 

With a glance up at his face, you saw that his eyes had rolled fully upwards now and his mouth was open, fangs dripping slow drops of venom back down into his mouth and drool leaking from one corner as he tasted your combined arousal on his tongue with each inhale. You’d only known him get anywhere near this worked up once, when you’d edged him in the library study room for nearly an hour, and he’d been begging mindlessly by the end of it, cocks dripping onto the flagstones and slit leaking all down his tail, but there was something new about this. Perhaps it was because you were in his own bed with him, instead of stealing moments in the archives where anyone could technically have walked in on you, even though you had the key to the study room and no one ever used it anyway. 

This was your moment, just for the two of you, and the prince had even seemed to have encouraged it. Could he have guessed? The thought made your hand stall and Syleith gave a choked grunt beneath you. He said something in his mother tongue and you looked down at him to find him looking up at you with his pupils so big and so black they had eclipsed all the green in his eyes save for the tiniest sliver. You smiled and returned your attention to his poor, straining cocks by way of apology, and he let his head flop back down onto the pillow with a sigh. 

You took pity on him not too long after that, straddling his hips and placing one hand on his strong chest for balance while you leaned forwards and guided his drooling cock into your entrance. You pushed your body slowly back as the pointed tip of his more sensitive cock slipped so easily inside you and he let out a long, sobbing whine of ecstasy. You usually didn’t favour that cock because he tended just to come the moment you touched it, but this time he was so sensitive all over, it probably wouldn't have made much difference. 

You sat back slowly, still gripping his cock near the root while his other one moved along the crease of your thigh in a wet, easy slide, until he was fully seated inside you and you could feel the way his sheath clenched repeatedly against your body beneath you.

He chanted the same thing over and over in his language, and you thought you recognised it as an affirmation of undying love. 

“I love you too, Sy,” you whispered as you rocked your hips, feeling every ridge on his cock nudge against you as they passed in and out of you. “Oh fuck, you feel so good. You always feel so good,” you added, closing your eyes briefly as you focused on the sensation. “Gods, Sy, you’re so wet for me…”

He moaned inarticulately, then grunted something that sounded like a warning, and before you could tell him it was alright, he was coming. 

His torso curled upwards towards you, and he gave a heaving yell, fangs bared in a rictus as venom squirted from them at the same time as his cocks spilled up your thigh and deep inside you together. He almost sat up with the force of his orgasm as it tore through his whole, beautiful body, and you swayed as his tail thrashed behind you, nearly dislodging you. The movement was enough to make the tip of his still-spilling cock catch you in just the right spot inside, and a second later you joined him as a blinding orgasm shuddered through you as well. 

The more you clenched around him, muscles tightening as you came about as hard as you’d ever come in your entire life, he gave another choking groan and then he started to come again. The naga’s body writhed and twisted beneath you as he came and came, giving you everything he had until he eventually had nothing left and he fell back limply onto the bed behind him. 

When you opened your eyes in the wake of your own bone-shaking orgasm, you found that his eyes were closed and he was barely breathing. His chest rose and fell in tiny, snatched breaths, and his eyelashes were fluttering, as if he was trying to open his eyes but couldn’t spare the energy to make it happen. 

You clenched your muscles deliberately around him and he whimpered and twitched, the cock trapped beneath you dribbling and spurting weakly against you, though it had little left to spend. You stayed put, watching him fondly from your position astride his hips, until his cocks had softened completely. 

Carefully, you shifted your hips and let him slide free of you, and you knew his sheets would need changing as you lay down beside him and felt all his spend sliding out of you onto the clean bedlinen. Somehow you couldn’t find it within you to care at all. 

You lay next to him and rested your head on his right shoulder, until finally he managed to summon enough energy to open his eyes and turn his head just enough to regard you. “Love you,” he said in slurred Common. 

“You alright?” you asked. “That was… more intense than usual, even for you.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, letting his head loll against yours. “Fuck though, you make me come so hard. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for at least six hours.”

“That’s alright,” you said, kissing the tip of his nose. “I don’t think I’ll be able to move my legs for a while anyway.”

You lay there together in easy silence for perhaps only thirty seconds, your hand tracing idle patterns on the scales at his hips, before Sy broke the silence. 

“I’m gonna tell him,” Syleith said, blinking some clarity slowly back into his greenish-gold eyes. 

Your heart stopped for a moment and all that nebulous bliss evaporated from your chest in an instant. “What? Tell who? Tell who what?”

“The prince,” he said, consonants still slurring deliciously. He sounded drunk on the sex you’d just had. “M’gonna tell him I love you.”

“Sy, you can’t! We’ll both lose our positions.”

“Don’t care. I can work as a guard or a merc and even if he has to fire me, he’ll give me the best references. I know he will. He’ll make sure you find something good too.”

“Sy, please… Please don’t do anything rash, alright? We can figure something out, but please… My whole life is here in the archives. It’s all I’ve ever wanted — or at least, it was until I fell in love with you. Now I feel like I’m torn right down the middle, and —”

“—alright. I won’t tell him yet,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Fuck, I hate it when I can taste your fear,” he added, tongue flickering against his fangs. “Shh, I’m sorry. I won’t. I won’t lose you. I’ll do anything if I get to keep you.”

You let out a long sigh and hugged yourself close to him. 

After a long time, he sighed too and muttered, “Need another bath.”

“Mn.”

Your second bath was only a little more chaste, but no less intimate. He took his time washing you, and you did the same for him, even cleaning his sheath. He still got wet and hard, and he even came for you. It crested suddenly, seeming to catch him by surprise as he lay back in the water with his arms propping him up against the rim of the stone tub while you touched him. 

“Oh,” he gasped a second before he started to spill, head thrown back and body lax. 

You cleaned him up again and got out of the bath, repeating the gesture of towelling each other dry before heading back into his bedroom. You changed his sheets together, leaving them in a heap in a corner, and climbed into bed, since you had nothing else to do that day. You fell asleep in his arms. 

You both startled awake to a knocking on the door, and he floundered upright, then frowned. “Stay there,” he murmured, letting his heavy tail fall off the bed first and pull him with it until he had spilled out and onto the floor in a surprisingly neat coil. 

At the door, he opened it and peered cautiously out, but a second later he went stiff with surprise and bowed low. “Highness… What…?” he stammered. 

“Relax, Sy. I do, however, need to talk to you.”

“Of course. If you’ll allow me just a moment to dress, I’ll… I’ll be right with you…”

You could see the fear in his eyes as he turned towards you after pushing the door not quite closed and brought his finger to his lips. You nodded, heart thudding, clutching the sheets protectively around your chin. 

“I love you,” he mouthed as he strapped his armour on. When he was dressed, he came over and took the time to leave a kiss on the top of your head. “Stay here,” he whispered into your ear. “I’ll be right back, alright? As soon as I’m done with whatever he needs from me, I’ll come back for you.”

You nodded, and watched him go, the tip of his tail vanishing with a flash of peacock blue before the door closed and you were left alone. Feeling too anxious to linger, you dressed in your archivist’s uniform and crossed quietly to the door. 

Voices sounded quietly in the corridor outside, but when they faded, you decided to open it and peer out. In the corridor beyond, you could see Sy’s long tail vanishing around a corner to your right, so you closed the door and headed after him, since it was the same direction you’d taken from the archives only a few hours earlier anyway. 

At the corner, you paused and made sure they weren’t right there, peeking around it like a thief in the night. A door squeaked up ahead and again, you saw Sy’s tail just as it disappeared through the doorway. 

Approaching along the corridor, you caught the sound of voices within, and recognised Harper’s gravelly voice, followed by the prince’s smooth baritone, and a short word or two from Syleith. 

What you heard while you lingered outside in the corridor made your heart stop beating. 

“I know about your archivist, Sy,” the prince said calmly. 

After a long pause, you caught Sy’s distinctive, hissing enunciation. “Shhhit. It — It’sssss not… not what you —”

“Before you discredit yourself with a sentence we both know to be a lie,” the prince interrupted, “I wanted you to know that, although such a pairing is forbidden by my father’s laws, I will not stand in your way.”

“What?” There was another significant pause, and then a short gasp, then Sy stammered, “Th…The two of you?”

A gruff grunt that could only have come from the werewolf confirmed his question, and then Harper said, “We’re mated. Well, I am anyway.”

Another silence stretched between them, spilling out into the corridor where you had been holding your breath so long you thought you might faint. Slowly, you let it out.

“So you’ve known… How long?”

“About you two?” the prince asked, and you thought you detected a wry smile in his tone. “About six months? Really Sy, I know you’re my bodyguard, but I thought we were on friendlier terms than that. Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We could both have lost our jobs,” he said. “And I… I didn’t want you to think I was compromised.”

“Are you?”

He paused. 

“Are you saying you’d put the life of an archivist before that of your prince?”

A soft hiss slithered out on the silence that surrounded the prince and your heart may actually have stopped beating. That silence was tantamount to treason. 

“Syleith?”

Harper began to growl. 

“Don’t look at me like that!” Syleith snapped, presumably at the werewolf. “He’s your mate! It’s different for you.”

“Syleith, would you put the life of another before that of your prince?”

Then, just when you thought he wasn’t going to answer, Sy said, “I’m mated too. I may not have a choice, should it ever come to it.” 

He’d mated you? When? And why hadn’t he said anything? 

But you knew why he’d held his tongue: you’d worry for him. Just like you had begun to worry now in earnest. He was going to lose his job for admitting that. 

“Fuck,” you exhaled, bowing your head against the door frame and closing your eyes. 

A waft of air on your face made you jolt upright and you found Harper bearing down on you with a scowl. “Listening in doorways little archive mouse?” he growled, though there was no heat in his tone. 

“Please, Harper,” the prince laughed. “You knew all along we weren’t alone.”

The big wolf shrugged, smirked at you, then held the door open for you. You ducked under his thick arm and entered, bowing at the prince. “Your Highness,” you squeaked before crossing to where Sy was waiting, swaying like he might either pass out or throw up. Or both. 

His dark skin had taken on an oddly grey undertone. “Hey,” you said softly, sliding your hand into his. “It’s going to be alright.”

He nodded shakily and then let his gaze slide to the prince, who appeared to be having some kind of wordless conversation with his other bodyguard. 

The two then turned to face you and the prince regarded you up and down. “Are you aware of the position of Archivist to the Prince?” 

You shook your head. “Er, no, Highness.”

He grinned at you rather wolfishly himself and said, “I made it up just last night. My father is always saying I spend too much time in the lists and not enough time in the library. I want you to be my archivist. That means you’ll need to be in my company frequently, and if you happen to get along with my bodyguards, then that’s all the better. I’m working on getting my father to change the law on the Royal Guards taking a mate or a partner, by the way,” he added. Then he scrubbed his hand over his darkly stubbled jaw and took Harper’s hand in his other, squeezing. “It started off purely selfishly, but then I figured you weren’t some fling or a quick fuck on the side for Sy, and I knew it wasn’t fair to keep you two apart either.”

The prince squeezed Harper’s hand again and added, “It won’t happen immediately, so you’ll have to keep quiet a little while longer, but I’m nearly ready to broach the subject with him directly. I swear to you, the pair of you will be standing side by side, in public, at the next ceremony. I won’t make you wait until my coronation, I promise.”

Sy had remained completely silent beside you, and when you looked up, you saw his eyes had gone glassy and watery. “Hey,” you murmured. “I told you it would be alright.”

“But what about your question?” Syleith asked the prince in a dull whisper.  

“About putting the life of another before mine?”

“Yeah, that one.”

The prince smiled, his hazel eyes sparkling. “I’m glad. It’s not healthy to have nothing else in your life but duty. It turns people into fanatics who’ll stop at nothing, and anyway, no prince’s life should be worth more than that of a single one of his subjects.”

Harper’s resonant growl said otherwise, but you forgave him since the prince was also his mate, and slid your arm around Sy’s thick, muscle-bound middle. 

So it was that you found yourself standing beside the prince’s bodyguard at the next public ceremony, just as he’d promised. The roguish prince even tossed you a wink as he walked towards the podium to give a short speech in honour of the general that was retiring, and as he raised his hand and saluted the grizzled centaur before him, you snuck a look up at Syleith and found him already looking down at you. 

He slid his gauntleted hand around yours and squeezed you tightly. “I love you,” he said. “I’m so proud I get to stand here with you.”

You flushed hot and looked away, but he didn't let go of your hand, not even as he dragged you into a store cupboard fifteen minutes later while everyone else filed off towards the great hall for the feast. 

The naga pulled all his long, thick tail into the tiny room and slammed the door behind him, crowding you into a corner and tugging relentlessly at your buttons until you thought they might ping off before he’d got you undressed enough to get at you.

“Need you,” he groaned, and after you’d loosened his ceremonial armour enough around the waist to access his sheath, you felt him shudder as you pressed your palm against him. 

“You’re so wet,” you smiled. 

“Been wet all fucking afternoon,” he complained. “Harper kept looking at me funny.”

“He could probably smell the both of us,” you laughed, and Sy moaned. “You’re not the only one who’s been turned on all afternoon. Why don’t you find out for yourself? We haven’t got long though, so hurry up.”

The sigh he let out when he discovered exactly how turned on you were echoed off the bare stone walls of the little storage room, and was replaced a moment later by a louder groan of pleasure from both of you that combined into an indistinguishable duet as he lowered himself down, took hold your hips in his hands, and proceeded to get you off with his mouth. 

You came in record time, and he had to hold you upright when your knees went out from under you and you nearly clattered into a pile of cleaning equipment. 

“Fuck me,” he laughed as he caught you. 

“Gimme a second,” you mumbled, heart still pounding. “You’re far too good at that now, by the way.”

“Done it enough times,” he grinned, and because he was being a cocky little shit about it, you ‘punished’ him by reaching for his slit and crooking your fingers deep inside him in just the right way to bring him nearly crashing down himself. 

He grabbed the wall as his tail coiled reflexively, and he squeezed slick from his sheath all around your fingers as his muscles tightened and his cocks began to leak. “Don’t make me wait today,” he whimpered. “Please, I can’t — oh fuck!”

You’d gripped him around both cocks and began to work them together in your fist, delving the fingers of your other hand deep into his sheath for that spot that so often made him squirt these days. Sure enough, his sheath filled with arousal and a second or two later, as you pressed your thumb into the slit at the tip of the more sensitive cock he gasped your name, hunched forwards, and spilled into your hands and onto the coil of his tail just beneath. 

“Beautiful,” you murmured fondly, easing the naga through the last throes of his orgasm. “My beautiful mate.”

His cocks twitched and his sheath contracted again, making a fresh mess of himself as his fading orgasm rekindled for a few more heartbeats. When it had subsided a second time, he cracked one eye open to regard you.

“My menace of a mate,” he replied. “Fucking hell. What a mess.”

You laughed. “Think we’ll be missed if we skip the feast?”

“Prince’ll put me on latrine duty for a week, probably.”

“Fine. Let’s get cleaned up —”

“— I’ll risk it. Come on, let’s go back to my rooms. I want to taste you again.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“For you? Always.”

Laughing, you dressed awkwardly in the dark room, and, hoping you hadn’t missed any buttons to give you away, the pair of you snuck out and slipped through the back ways of the palace, heading for the upper floors. 

As you passed the room where you’d had your confrontation with the prince and Harper though, you heard a growl and a short cry of pleasure that was quickly muffled by a hand, and the pair of you halted, exchanging comically scandalised looks. 

“Is that —?” you mouthed at Syleith and he nodded slowly. 

“The prince.”

“And —”

“Harper.”

“They’re missing the ceremony too?”

He grinned so wide his fangs showed fully, and nodded. “Guess we won’t get into trouble either then. C’mon.”

And with that, he led you towards his room, locking the door securely behind him. 

_

I hope you enjoyed the first story of the year! Stay safe all of you.

Link to my masterlist of stories is pinned on Patreon and linked here.