Monthly story - male naga x gn reader (nsfw) (Patreon)

Happy Valentine's Day, wonderful friends!! For this cheesiest of holidays, we return to Starfall Springs, and meet a gorgeous naga on the beach. Turns out though, there's a bit more to this naga than our dear reader realised... 

Very light angst, with a cutesy ending, and some meddling friends. 

Wordcount: 4234

Memories of last summer still drifted through your dreams, like spiralling butterflies through one of the wildflower meadows that surrounded the idyllic town of Starfall Springs.

Hooking up with some guy you met on holiday hadn’t exactly been your plan for your two-week, solo vacation there, but when that warm, rich baritone had quietly exclaimed behind you, “Oh wow, that’s incredible!” while you’d sat sketching on a rock by the seashore, and you’d startled, dropping your sketchbook to the sand, you’d looked up into the deep, honey-rich eyes of a naga, and you’d been smitten.

“I’m sorry,” he’d smiled, stooping in a sinuous bow to retrieve the small book from the ground before brushing the grit off it and offering it back to you. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallowed thickly and tried to get your heart to slow down again, but it had proven tricky to say the least. His tail was long and gleaming in a way you had never seen from the nagas in the city, and it was made up of a myriad of mosaic pieces of tortoiseshell and amber, with orderly flecks of dark chocolate and flashes of cream-coloured scales forming an even, diamond shaped pattern.

“Usually people hear me coming,” he added, jutting his chin down towards the tip of his tail, which he brought up and rattled conspicuously, all the while smiling broadly at you.

“I…” you’d croaked. “I was… kind of out of it. With… With drawing. It happens.” Dear gods, you weren’t usually so inarticulate, but he was mesmerising. He was also not wearing any clothes, so his human upper torso — all sun bronzed and beautifully lean and muscular — was very distracting. As were his arms. Gods, he could definitely pick you up with those arms and…

“You’re really good,” he said, eyeing the open page of the sketchbook and mercifully interrupting your reverie. “You do it for a living, or just a hobby?”

“Art doesn’t pay that well, so it’s kind of a side-hustle for me,” you replied, forcing yourself to look away just so that you could regain some brain function.

Apparently that had given him the wrong message, because he huffed an amused little laugh, and said, “That’s a shame, because you have real talent. I’ll leave you in peace though.”

Before you’d had the chance to think of anything that might make him stay, he’d wished you a good day and slithered off down the sand, apparently enjoying the secluded cove alone. A pair of gnolls were walking along not far behind him, and they eyed you with suspicion as they passed, making your face flush hot under their scrutiny. They were probably wondering what such a painfully ordinary-looking human had done to attract the attention of the unbelievably hot naga ahead of them.

Suddenly no longer so inspired by the view, you turned the page in your slightly damp, sea-stained sketchbook and let your pencil outline the contours of his divinely-proportioned face and shoulders for the next half hour or so.

Before you got heat-stroke from sitting on your summer rock in the blazing sunlight though, you’d headed back up the beach and returned to your hotel. There hadn’t been a whole lot of choice for places to stay at such short notice: a rather oldy-worldy pub by the name of the Inglenook, or a boutique hotel down on the waterfront called Selkie House.

That night at dinner, you’d been among the only guests in the hotel’s minuscule dining room, save for an elderly man with the tapered ears of an elf on the far side of the room who’d smiled politely at you as you’d passed, but had offered no other conversation.

Seated alone, you had just ordered your food when another guest entered the room and looked around, and your heart had skipped a beat. It was the naga from the beach, only now he had on a beautiful, red silk kaftan adorned with gold embroidery and brocade, and tied loosely at his human waist with a wide, golden sash. His dark, wavy hair was no longer windswept and tousled, but neatly styled back off his sharply-handsome face, and his reptilian, golden eyes scanned the room almost reflexively as he entered.

When they landed on you, those hypnotic eyes widened and he smiled in recognition, inclining his head in your direction.

Skin prickling all over with a heat that had nothing to do with the day’s sunshine, you returned the gesture with a bashful smile and watched as he wove between the few empty tables towards you. Behind him, the two gnolls from earlier also entered, looking serious and business-like, and you realised they were probably all on holiday together. If they were together and he was a third wheel, no wonder he seemed desperate for someone else to talk to.

He approached your table and cleared his throat. “Forgive the intrusion,” he began, scanning the place-settings and clearly realising you were dining alone. “Would you like some company while you eat, or would you prefer to dine alone? Please say if you would — I obviously shan’t be offended.”

How could you reasonably say no to that though? He was waiting at a polite distance from your table, not crowding you or pressuring you, so you smiled and shook your head. “Please, I’d love some company. I didn’t realise how awkward it could feel dining out alone til I came on holiday on my own…”

“I quite understand,” he said, and drew back a chair opposite you at your invitation. “My name is Beau, by the way.”

“How apt,” you murmured self-consciously, not thinking he’d heard you, but when you looked up at him again, there was a little twist to the corner of his lips. Yes, he knew he was attractive, but he didn’t seem to be wielding it as a weapon. Not overtly, anyway. “Don’t your friends want to join us too?” you asked, eyeing the gnolls who had slid into their seats at a table nearby and were now looking at you with sullen, wary eyes. You hoped he’d say no.

Beau glanced over his shoulder at them and then smiled at you. It was a strange little smile; almost as if he was curious about something as well as amused. “No,” he said slowly. “I rather think they’d much prefer to keep to their own company, but thank you for asking.”

“Ok…” you shrugged, secretly relieved, and pushed a menu across the white tablecloth at him. “I already ordered my starter and main.”

“What did you go for?” he asked, skimming down the menu with his hypnotic eyes, pupils widening a little in the dimmer light of your candlelit corner. “I hate ordering the same thing as someone else on the table. Makes it so much more interesting if you have something different, you know?”

That first night saw the two of you sharing morsels off each other’s forks, sipping different wines from each other’s glasses, and it ended with him insisting he pay for your meal too. “Please,” he said gently, “You only had that dessert and the wine to go with it because I begged you to try them.”

He had, and both had been exquisite, and way pricier than you’d budgeted for that night. It was ok though; you could just skip lunch the next day.

“It’s only fair that I pay for it,” he went on, “And besides, I’d very much like to thank you for such a wonderful evening in your company.”

You did allow it, and after you’d lingered in the dining room to talk of this and that over the dregs of your dessert wine — from your opinions on sports teams to his on last year’s offerings at the Oyster Cove Film Festival — you left the dining room together and both headed for the elevator. The gnolls left when you did, and you snickered quietly up at him, “You sure your friends aren’t secret agents or something?”

“Not any more,” he grinned playfully, and when you rolled your eyes and laughed with him, he breathed, “Gods, you’re beautiful.”

Taken off-guard by the compliment, you stood there stuttering for a moment before the lift pinged to announce its arrival, and the brass doors rolled back. “After you,” he rasped, his usual, smooth baritone turned earthy and rough all of a sudden. His pupils too were massive.

You stepped in and he slithered after you, pressing the button for the top floor. You hit the one for your floor, and just as the doors rolled shut on the approaching gnolls outside, you caught a flash of a snarl on their faces that was answered with a snort of amusement from Beau. “Ah, they’ll just have to get the stairs,” he said, leaning his shoulders back against the cool mirror behind him while maintaining eye contact with you. With his superior height over you, it had the effect of making him look drowsy and alluring, and you bit your lower lip just a little.

His breathing was short and shallow as he regarded you through his long, dark lashes. “You want —?” he asked, but cut himself off, shaking his head.

“What?” you exhaled, half hope and half apprehension.

“I was going to ask you back to my room,” he said in a soft drawl, “But you only just met me, and you don’t know me, and it was mighty presumptuous of me to assume.”

“Yes,” you said before you could regret it. You never did anything like this, but with him, it felt right.

His eyes darted to your lips and his jaw softened, revealing his longer canines. They were hollow, you knew, and full of deadly venom if he chose to inject it, but the idea only thrilled you.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered, but when you licked your lower lip, he let out a moan that seemed to represent all his self-control crumbling, and he leaned down towards you, catching himself at the last minute to ask, “May I?”

You nodded and his hands found your shoulders as his lips found your mouth, and he backed you up against the mirror behind you on your side of the elevator. He kissed like a man drowning and you tipped your head back and let him. How long had it been since you’d had this? Since you’d had someone crave you like this? Perhaps never.

The lift doors pinged for your floor, but he fumbled to shut them without breaking his desperate kiss, his tail rattling with annoyance at the now-needless interruption. “You’re perfect, you’re gorgeous…”

With an inarticulate groan, you let him mouth kisses down your neck while his hands roamed your torso and down to your waist.

“Gods, I’m already making a mess of myself,” he laughed, drawing back and breathing hard.

You glanced down at the lower hem of his kaftan and saw the tent in the silk where you guessed his cock — cocks? Some nagas had two after all — might just be starting to slip free of his sheath, and you groaned again, more quietly this time.

At the top floor, you spilled out of the elevator in a tangle of human limbs and snake tail and somehow made it to his room. Just as he shoved the door closed with the tip of his tail, you caught a movement out in the corridor, but didn’t have time to register anything beyond that before you were lifted up and set down on the bed with a feverish combination of reverence and desperation. “Want you,” he snarled. “May I?”

Nodding, you watched as he made short work of the buttons on his beautiful kaftan, and then took over for you when you spent too long fumbling to remove your own clothing. When you were bare before him on the bed, he pounced, kissing down your chest, taking each budded nipple carefully between his teeth and tugging just so — always mindful of his fangs — kissing down your ribs and then, with his hands bracing your hips to hold you down, he put his dangerous mouth on you, just there, and wrung the most exquisite pleasure out of you that you’d known in years.

All the while he feasted on your pleasure, his tail writhed and coiled aimlessly on the floor behind him, tail rattling constantly — even increasing in intensity the more wound up he got. When one hand disappeared from your hip and he gave a gasp against you, you realised he had taken himself in his hand and you shook your head.

“No, I want you,” you gasped. “Please.”

“You’re sure?” he panted, his slitted pupils blown wide and his bronze body heaving. You’d done that to him. Gods, it felt incredible to have sparked that kind of reaction in someone for once. “I was tested recently — all clear, but I’ve got protection too if you want.”

You shook your head. “I’m clear too, and you’re good without.”

“Fffffuck,” he hissed, head bowing. “I’m such a mess. Look at me…” and as he said that, he reared up and you saw the clear, glistening slick that covered his fingers, and the two, slender cocks that writhed against his grip. Between them hung an obscene strand of slick that glinted in the low light and your core tightened. “Both?” he asked, “Or just one?”

“Both,” you smirked, and his eyes rolled back for a moment. “Beau, please…”

You didn’t have to ask again. He was so slick that it didn’t take much to slide inside you, and the feel of him stretching and filling you was enough to bring you right back to the edge again in what felt like no time at all. Using his powerful tail to thrust deep inside you in a devastatingly slow rhythm, Beau wrung every drop of pleasure from you before finally giving in to his own. “I’m so close now,” he hissed, grinding his hips flush against you.

“Kiss me?”

“I can’t,” he grunted, swallowing. “I’m dripping venom everywhere.” Another swallow. “Can’t help it.” Swallow. “Perfect. Fuck. Fuuuu—” and with that, he gave in and came.

Shuddering spasms shivered all along his gorgeous, diamondback tail and the harsh grunt he let out was accompanied by a frantic rattling as his whole tail tensed and curled in on itself. He emptied himself inside you and then his spine went slack and he collapsed atop you.

Inside, you could feel his cocks pulsing as your body milked his completely dry, but before long, he realised he would need to roll off you to let you breathe properly, and as he withdrew, you watched his two cocks lie soft across the small, pale scales of his belly.

You didn’t return to your room that night, and you had the slowest, sweetest morning sex you could ever have dreamed when dawn filtered softly through the gauzy curtains of his rooms the next day. You spent the week with him, and with his silent gnoll friends trailing on the periphery. He just said ‘we’re all here together’ and left it at that. You didn’t even get an introduction by name, but that was fine by you. You were only interested in Beau.

When you parted at the end of your fortnight in paradise — after more sex than you’d probably had in your entire life — Beau gave you his number and kissed you and told you to call him.

You didn’t. You talked yourself out of it. You told yourself he would have forgotten you. That you were just some human he’d hooked up with on holiday. That a guy who looked like Beau would never be interested in just some ordinary human. So you’d pocketed the folded-over note, with its Selkie House branding at the top, and got on the train back to the city with your sketchbook and pencils and the lingering ache inside you, and thought that was that.

Months later, as winter dragged on and on and January finally relented into a wild and wet February, you invited a few friends over for drinks and a catch up one weekend, and Ophelia asked you how your art was going. The werewolf was always the life and soul of any party, and she had spent much of your evening bringing tears of laughter to everyone’s eyes.

“Show us your sketchbook, silly!” she giggled when you just shrugged and said you’d been doing some here and there, but not much since you’d come back from Starfall Springs that summer.

As she was leafing through it, turning pages slowly and carefully with her clawed fingertips, she drew up short and squinted at one page in particular.

“What?” you asked, embarrassed and assuming it was maybe some studies you’d done in Starfall Springs’ museum of some ancient — and nude — sculptures.

“I thought you said you hadn’t watched ‘A Thousand Rivers’?”

“I haven’t.” The artsy film had come out the previous year, but you weren’t interested in those kind of movies much. “Why?”

She flipped the book around and pointed at the sketch of the gorgeous face that still graced your steamier dreams — day and night. “That’s a bloody good likeness of Beau Lancet, darling,” she said with her fluffy ears pricked forward.

Confusion made your brain foggy and your thoughts thick and slow. “You know Beau?”

“The fuck? No, I don’t know Beau Lancet. He’s an actor and I’m a mechanic, sweetheart. We move in kind of different circles, you know? Wait… do you know Beau Lancet?”

“I…” What were you supposed to say? I spent the whole two weeks I was in Starfall Springs getting my brains fucked out by the most gorgeous naga I’ve ever laid eyes on. I didn’t know he was a famous actor though.

“Was he there when you were on holiday?” Ophelia asked slowly, speaking as if you were a very small child. “Did you meet him?”

“I… We… I didn’t know who he was…”

Ophelia was one of your oldest friends, and she read the subtext in your body language and your tone instantly. “You fucked him? Didn’t you? You fucked Beau Lancet and you didn’t fucking know it was Beau Fucking Lancet? Oh my gods!!”

“Shit.”

The rest of your friends erupted into a flurry of exclamations and questions, and Ophelia took at least a quarter of an hour to stop laughing. When her uncontrollable giggles finally melted into panting quiescence, you fixed her with a look and said very quietly. “He gave me his number.”

“And you didn’t call him?” she asked, her big brown eyes more serious, though they still carried the sparkle of laughter.

You shrugged.

“Fucking. Call. Him.” She glared at you. “Right now. People like that don’t give out their number to just anyone, you know? Gods, you're thick sometimes, sweetheart…” she said with fond irritation.

You did call him, and with your heart pounding deafeningly in your ears. You figured he wouldn’t answer an unknown number.

But he did.

“Yeah? Who is this?”

“Hey, Beau? It’s… uh… you probably don’t remember me, but we met on holiday in Starfall Springs… I didn’t know who you were… then…”

On the sofa, Ophelia mouthed ‘oh my gods’ and rolled her eyes before bringing her huge paw up to cover her face.

After a beat of silence, Beau whispered your name though, and then chuckled a warm, rich laugh. “I didn’t think you did. Gods, it’s good to hear your voice. Are you alright? I thought maybe you’d found out who I was and didn’t want to talk to me or something.”

“Actually, I figured you'd probably forgotten about me and moved on,” you admitted. “I just found out about twenty minutes ago who you are.” Your choice of words rattled through the silence that followed your statement and you added hastily, “I didn’t call you just because you’re some celeb. Shit. Anyway, uh… I’m sorry to bother you. Hanging up now…”

“Don’t go!” he hissed immediately. “Please. I… I’ve thought about you every day… Wondered what you were up to. I tried to look up your art, but I couldn’t find you and I only had your first name.”

“I don’t post my art under my real name,” you mumbled.

“Explains it,” he sighed. “Look, I have to go — I’m literally about to go to this red carpet thing, but… can I call you back tomorrow?”

You nodded, then realised you were on the bloody telephone, and croaked, “Sure. I’d… I’d like that. Have fun…”

“I’ll be thinking about you the whole night,” he said in a low, seductive purr and your whole body flashed hot. “I’m so glad you called. Until tomorrow then.”

When you hung up and looked around at Ophelia and your expectant friends, you rolled your eyes. “He’s calling me back tomorrow. He’s at some red carpet thing right now.”

“Some red carpet thing?” Ophelia parroted. “Holy shit, it’s only the Oyster Cove Film Festival! Quick, put the TV on — they always show live footage! Maybe we’ll get to see a close up… see just how distracted he is…”

“Shut up,” you groused, but you let your friends turn on your TV and find a station that was showing footage from the exclusive event. When the camera zoomed in on the gorgeous, tanned face of the naga you’d known simply as ‘Beau’, you saw the gold powder that had been artistically brushed across his high cheekbones, and the way his snake’s eyes glinted like yellow, faceted tourmalines, and your stomach flipped over. It was still him. And apparently, he hadn’t forgotten you.

The interviewer asked him a question and he fumbled the response, blinking and visibly pulling himself back together with a little shake of his head before offering a charming smile and apologising. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit distracted tonight. Could you repeat the question?”

The interviewer probed for a reason behind his distraction, but all he did was glance once at the camera — straight into the camera — and your heart fairly stopped beating. Those eyes were the bedroom eyes he’d cast you right before he’d wrung exquisite pleasure from you with that teasing, talented, dangerous mouth of his.

When you met your friends’ eyes, they crowed and whooped and shook their heads at you, and called you nine kinds of imbecile, and then demanded that you keep them in the loop when he called the next day.

He did, and you chatted with him as though he was just some guy, not a world-famous celebrity, and you laughed it off together before he asked if you’d like to go for dinner somewhere.

The idea of becoming the romantic interest of a film star and stepping into the public eye wasn’t hugely appealing, but when he asked you over to his place, you agreed, and you were met at the door by two rather familiar looking gnolls. “Of course… I should have known you were his bodyguards or something,” you said when they looked you up and down and clearly decided you were no threat.

They loomed like a pair of furry gargoyles on either side of the corridor into the exclusive townhouse’s entrance hall, and then silently ushered you inside before closing the door.

One of them rasped, “He’s in the kitchen.”

Deadpan, the other added, “Panicking.”

They then unexpectedly cracked up and snickered privately together, bringing a smile to your face as you thanked the two of them, and followed your nose towards the kitchen at the back of the house.

“I hear you’re panicking, Beau,” you called when you spotted the naga leaning over the stove and heard the constant rattle of his tail.

“God, those two. I swear…” he snarled, ironically enough without any venom to his tone. “Yes, just a little. How do you feel about takeout if this all turns out to be inedible goop?”

“Takeout’s fine,” you smiled and when he turned to face you, his shoulders dropped and his tense frown melted into a dazed, dazzling smile.

“Gods, I missed you,” he whispered, setting down the wooden spoon and lurching towards you on unsteady muscles. He cupped your face in his smooth, warm hands and blinked rapidly, pupils flaring wide. “May I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

The smell of burning brought one of the gnolls into the room a while later, and he broke up your distracted kiss by shoving a takeout menu against Beau’s chest and wordlessly taking the pan to the sink and dousing the blackened remnants with water.

“Shit,” Beau cursed. “I’m sorry. I… I tried… Of course, we could always skip dinner altogether,” he suggested, rocking his groin against you to show how hard he’d grown during the duration of your — admittedly lengthy — kiss.

“I’ve always been a fan of dessert before main…” you smirked up at him, and he kissed you again while the gnoll rolled his eyes and said something on his way out of the room about ordering a couple of extra pizzas for you to have later.

You were halfway out the other door with Beau by then though, so you didn’t really catch it, and it was a long time before the two of you returned downstairs to share your cold, and slightly gnoll-nibbled pizzas.

Honestly though, for a first proper date with a celebrity — with Beau — it couldn’t have been better.

_

Hope you enjoyed it!! Link to my masterlist of stories is pinned on Patreon and linked here.