Page 22 of A Drop of Venom

“Terolon,” I almost sobbed. I was quivering all over, almost to the point of shuddering. The wave of bliss was just out of reach. His fingers, as good as they felt, weren’t enough. I needed to be filled with something else.

He rose above me then, my beautiful shelshan, his chest heaving as he ran his hands over my shivering body. “Hazel,” he groaned.

My eyes traveled down his chest, past his abdomen, and discovered his slit had finally opened and revealed its secrets: not one, but two long, thick manhoods.

“Goddess,” I gasped, fear and awe stealing my ability to breathe.

They looked almost nothing like the descriptions I’d heard of a man’s cock. But that was hardly surprising, given Terolon was not human.

The upper shaft was larger than the lower one, but only slightly. They were thick, with tapered, curved heads with bumps around the tip like a crown. The upper one also had three wide, raised rings that circled it at intervals, while the lower one was simply textured with more of the raised nubs.

Terolon leaned down to gather me in his arms and kiss me. “All is well, my mate,” he murmured. “I scent your fear. We need not continue.”

“I want to continue,” I said quickly. “I know you’d never hurt me. I want…I want to touch them first, though. Please.”

He moved farther up so I could reach them. “Do…do they have a name other than manhood?” I asked, biting my lip.

“We call them sartras,” he said, his voice rough. “Both are for pleasure, but only the upper one can sire basilings.”

“Sartras,” I repeated. “I like that better than manhood. Or cock.”

“We also call them cocks,” Terolon grated. “Hazel…please, touch me.”

At his urging, I wrapped my hand around his upper sartra. His groan made my sex clench.

His sartra was slick and the scales were soft to touch, though the shaft itself was hard as iron. To my relief, the nubs that ringed the tip were pliable and not sharp at all. Up close, I noticed each sartra had a small slit at the tip that leaked a white liquid with a greenish tinge. I captured a drop of it and brought it to my lips. When I licked it off my finger, he groaned again and shuddered almost violently. His spend was sweet like cider, with a hint of clove and honey.

I ran my hand gently down his shaft to feel the first of the rings. This area was textured rather than silky, and felt swollen.

“Those are my…breeding rings,” he managed to say, his jaw clenched. “Once inside you, they will…expand and keep us…locked together for a time when we mate. It helps my seed…to take root.”

“I drink a tea,” I said, releasing his sartra. He sighed and sagged above me. “I don’t know if I want children—basilings.”

“That’s more than fine, my shelshi,” he said, grunting and moving his hips as I ran my fingers along the lower sartra and caressed its many small nubs. “The choice…is yours, of course.”

Goddess, I wanted to feel his sartras filling me, but they were so large, and there were two. I released his lower sartra and he exhaled roughly. “Do female serpentae have two…?”

“Yes.” He moved back so he could brace his hands on either side of me and kiss my forehead. “You have only one womb, I know, sweet mate. Serpentae and humans have lain together for many thousands of years. We will find much pleasure together regardless.”

I thought of whispered conversations I’d overheard in the village that had always made me blush, but also aroused my curiosity about if such a thing were truly possible. But perhaps Terolon and I could explore that another day.

I slipped my hand between my own thighs, emboldened by my need and the sight of Terolon’s dripping sartras. My sex clenched almost painfully the moment I brushed my fingertips over it.

“Shelshi,” Terolon groaned.

I gathered up some of my own wetness and reached for his upper sartra. With another groan, he leaned forward and let me wrap my slick fingers around him.

When I guided him toward my parted thighs, he shuddered hard. “My mate.”

“Take me,” I said, and rubbed the tip of his sartra along my slick sex. My eyes nearly rolled up in my head. “Please,” I gasped. “I need you to fill me. I need to feel you inside me.”

With a guttural sound, he took himself in hand, braced himself over me, and pressed against my opening. “Hazel, look at me,” he said. “Keep your eyes on me.”

I had to tilt my head back because he was so much larger than me, but I held his beautiful amber gaze.

“I love you,” he said.

He thrust just a little with his hips, and the head of his sartra entered me, spreading me open around him. I cried out in the sheer pleasure of the sensation, grateful now for all his patient preparation and the slickness that coated his sartra.