Page 18 of Beware of Hodags

RACHEL

“Come again?” I yelp, shooting to my feet. My leggings are now a warm puddle on top of my feet but I don’t kick them off. I’m considering pulling them back up my legs. What did he say?

Shepard’s eyebrows hike and his shoulders are stiff, his posture all about regret. “You don’t know how bad I want to come with you once, let alone twice.”

My eyes shoot to his boxers, to the bulge that’s teasing me nicely but gives no hint of spikes. “Spikes?!”

“Can I show you?” he asks, sounding maybe resigned. I don’t know for sure; I can’t peel my eyes from his boxer-covered crotch to read his face. “I need to tell you about my cum too.”

“Oh my land—is it green?”

“Yes.”

My eyes fly up to his. “Are you joking?”

He shakes his head, looking pained.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I press my palm to my forehead, silently asking why my fated mate couldn’t be something normal, like a werewolf, or a weretiger, or a llama shifter.

And, my inner voice (who lives for situational irony) mutter-whispers, I bet tritons don’t have extras on their penises.

Although… they might. Those water-based shifters are weird. My luck, they’re packed with just as many surprises as the Northern small town ‘mythical’ male in front of me .

Not that I want a triton, or any man but Shepard. This is simply a glaring case of the dick is always greener on the other side. Except, you know—this side probably has the green dick.

Eeek. Hopefully not literally, I think, closing my eyes briefly for courage.

“From what I’ve heard,” Shepard goes on haltingly. “Hodag shifter females don’t uh, mind the spikes. I guess there are some… benefits. But males who don’t have hodag shifter mates say their partner needs some… convincing.”

Dropping my hand, I meet his gaze. “Y’think?”

Gaze steady on mine, he asks, “Want to see it?”

Inhaling through my nose I answer, “Yeah. Show me.”

Pushing his thumbs alongside his iliac crests—a move that arrests me, making my mouth go dry as I watch his thumbs gliding in those ruts—he slowly guides his boxers down.

Slow inch by slow inch, his groin is revealed.

Inanely, I note that his hair is greener here than on his chest and he keeps it nicely trimmed.

But erupting out of his closely shorn lap forest is an erection out of a horror movie.

Thick and lime green, it has fat veins snaking up from his base and along his shaft—and speaking of his shaft, bursting along the top of it are spike-shaped growths.

“OH MY—” I start to yelp at the same time Shepard tries to assure me, “They’re not sharp!”

My eyes snap up to his in disbelief. Because while that was one of my concerns, the other considerable issue is how all of his spikes are freaking oozing some kind of opaque greenish… fluid. A very off-putting, infected-looking viscous fluid.

“Is that—” pus, I want to ask. But I can’t voice it. I’m too afraid that’s exactly what it looks like.

Voice strained, Shepard shares, “The spikes are weeping what are known as ‘hodag tears.’”

Eyes narrowed, I have to repeat what I heard him say to make sure I heard him correctly. “Hodag tears?”

“Yep,” Shepard confirms, looking slightly abashed. “They should taste like lemonade,” he adds as if this will sweeten the deal.

I stare at him. But thanks to our shifter sides and natural attraction to each other, the instinct to mate is an urge so strong it’s quickly becoming a need. So I perform the fastest risk-reward assessment while in a sexually starved state and find myself kicking my leggings away. “Alright.”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

I nod. “You’re hot and just being near you is making me really, really horny. Horny enough I guess I’m game.”

He huffs a laugh. And when I climb into the bed (careful not to turn enough for him to get a peek of what I’m hiding under my shirt) and gesture for him to get in, he loses his boxer briefs in a flash and literally leaps onto the bed to join me.

Amused, I shoot him a nervous smile.

Sliding over to me on his hip, one hand braced on the bed to keep him upright, his eyes scan my face. Whatever he sees has his brows pulling in slightly. “Hey, c’mere once,” he says, and gently takes my face in his hand. He brings my mouth up to his and kisses me softly.

Involuntarily, I make a noise. It’s a soft sound. A hungry, eager sound.

Shepard answers me with a growl and tilts his head, deepening the kiss. His other hand comes around and splays across my back, the heat of him melting my muscles even through the fabric of my shirt. He yanks me against himself.

With a few adjustments, we’re down on our sides, his arms wrapped around me and mine around his neck. He brings his thigh between my legs, encouraging me to ride it .

“Can I touch your tits?” he asks between nips of my lips. I freeze up a little, and he raises his head, looking down at me. “Under your shirt. I won’t take it off you if you want it on.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He searches my gaze. When I nod, he brings me closer, hugging me for a few heartbeats.

Whether he’s intentionally doing it to soothe and reassure me or not, this is exactly what his tight hug accomplishes.

And like he can sense that I’m ready, he eases his hold and slides a hand under my shirt, caressing up my belly, moving higher and higher each pass.

When he closes his heated palm over my breast, I cling to him, cupping my hand around the back of his head, my fingers luxuriating as they slowly thread through his thick hair.

He pulls back enough to stare into my eyes. I don’t get a chance to grow anxious about what my face might look like because he begins to knead my breast and steals all of my attention. My thighs clench. Since his leg is between mine, he notices.

His smile is feral. He buries his face in my neck, kissing and nipping lightly, his beard sliding pleasantly over every inch of my skin that isn’t covered by my T-shirt. He nuzzles my jaw, nips it, and takes my mouth hungrily. Tasting me. Then devouring me.

As he’s groping and petting me, I’m doing much the same to him. Squeezing his arms, lightly scoring his shoulders with my nails (he likes this—he growls into my neck), I get brave enough to caress his furred chest and down his belly.

That fast, he catches me carefully by the wrist. He pulls back and gives me a wild-eyed look. “Can’t,” he pants against my mouth. “If you touch me, this is gonna be all over.”

“Are we talking about sex or your green cum?”

His pupils dilate. “Both.”

I meet his gaze challengingly. “Guess you’ll have to try to last longer next time.” And I reach down and grip him by the dick .

The spikes along the top of his shaft mush against the palm of my hand. They’re rubbery and squishy and wet, and I sort of want to wipe my hand off on a towel or something. But I try to give him a stroke instead.

His shaft pulses eagerly. His lubrication smears like a watery paste along my palm as his shaft works in my grip. Each of his spikes scud along the inside of my hand, nudge, nudge, nudge—

And my eyes widen. Because I’m imagining how these will feel inside me. Where they’ll nudge inside me. My pussy aches, simmering with empty heat.

Audaciously, I tug him forward.

“Oh fuck!” he exclaims, bucking hard into my grip. His arms lock around me, stilling my attempt to bring him nearer.

“I want you inside me,” I tell him, trying to roll to my back.

He doesn’t let me roll. He’s staring into my eyes, his face tense and strained. “I didn’t get to eat you out,” he protests.

I shake my head. “I want this in me now.”

He exhales something that’s almost a laugh. “You sure?”

I tug him again in answer.

He knocks me to my back and rises over me, pressing my thigh to the bed before evidently thinking better of it. He catches me by the knee and brings it to his hip. “I want your legs around me.”

Happy to comply, I lock my legs around his hips, expecting him to storm the fortress.

But as he brings himself to my lips, he gets distracted with sliding the head of his cock along my cleft, gathering my wetness on his monstrous-looking prick.

The thing is drooling hodag pus, which is a little off-putting.

Before I can get too freaked out though, Shepard tests my readiness with one finger.

We both hear the squelch. He brings his slick-covered finger to his mouth and his tongue brazenly takes a long slow lick, cleaning my juice off his skin.

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. “You,” he announces, eyes opening to slits, “are fucking addictive.” With that, he lines himself up at my entrance and pushes inside.

I’m so drenched that his glans spears past my walls, parting me like butter. He utters a harsh exclamation. I moan.

But then his first squishy spike notches itself at my entrance, a mucilaginous protrusion trying to wedge itself in.

My mind freezes. I don’t even have time to tense before Shepard’s hips press forward, cramming the first spike inside, making me stretch to take him.

Then the next, and the next. The sensation is…

It’s different.

It’s also unnaturally good. By the time he’s fully seated himself, my neck has bowed and my eyes are screwed shut and I think I’m seeing stars.

Then he starts to pull back. And it’s like his cock rears up inside me, curling, fighting to stay where it’s lodged itself to my front wall.

Shepard continues to steadily draw himself out.

All his squishy spikes? They bump and clutch and drag against my g-spot, making my legs twitch and shake. I’m not coming yet; it’s like his dick is pressing on some kind of nerve center and it’s causing involuntary spasms in my legs, which are still locked around his hips.

When his cock is dragged back until it’s only the mushroom head being gripped by my clenching pussy, my leg muscles return to my control.

I take one panting breath, trying to recover, and Shepard plunges back inside. His cock stays in its hard curve as his spikes are scrubbed over my g-spot. Maybe from the friction, they squirt hot fluid against me that I feel like mini shockwaves.

My legs are vibrating they're shaking so hard and I’m hugging the hell out of Shepard’s neck, probably making him deaf with the noises I’m making in his ear. We’ll call it mewling but I’m afraid I’m actually howling like a wild animal .

Shepard’s head is just above mine, his breaths heating my face, his eyes watching me like he wants to devour me.

The veins at his temples are bulged, and for some reason this is only making me hotter.

His eyes are shifting to red, his pupils already shifted to black slits.

When he sees I’m focused on him too instead of exclusively what he’s doing inside me, he dives in to kiss me, his mustache crushing over my mouth.

His thrusts turn tighter, faster. My hands clutch his sides, grip his back.

His chest hair is scrubbing against my shirt and I want nothing more than to rip it off and fling it away so I can feel him skin to skin.

Next time, I promise myself, half-crazed.

I dig my nails into his shoulders and he swears, shoving into me even harder.

A hot tingly feeling is building up inside my center and I’m chasing it like my life depends on it. Our kiss turns choppy, messy.

Until Shepard pulls away and closes his mouth over my neck.

Maybe it’s the primal act of having him hold me like an animal. Maybe it’s the graze of his teeth.

Suddenly it feels like sparkles burst inside me, burning into my belly and down my legs. My pussy clamps down like a vise on Shepard’s pistoning dick and begins to flutter, milking him hard.

The look on Shepard’s face… I hope I never forget it.

He looks down at me like I’m magical, his expression so open and unguarded.

Pure ecstasy. Then his face twists and suddenly he’s drilling into me, snarling like a beast. When he plunges his cock into me deep— and holds— I squeal and bite his shoulder.

He squeezes his arms around me like an octopus, making my back arch. “Rachel,” he groans, and buries his face in my neck.

His dick gets even harder. Then the pulses start. Hot jets paint me from the inside, making me ripple around him, an extra treat for me.

Torture for him, if you were to judge by the grunts and heated exhales he makes into my ear. Sexiest thing I’ve ever heard as his heavy body pins me to the bed .

I massage his back, basking in his tight hold and the feeling of fullness that lasts until his cock is forced by biology to stand down, unplugging the dam and sending his cum down my thighs and crack.

After we doze a bit, he levers himself off me. I regret the loss of him, although being able to breathe again without feeling like a house of concrete is on top of me is a bonus, I guess.

“Hang on,” he says, and he leaves the room. When he returns, he has a washcloth.

I sit up and start to move—

“Sit tight,” he tells me, swooping under my shirt and making my face burn as he gently begins to brush at my sticky labia with the warm, wet cloth. “If you move, this will spread everywhere. Believe me, I’ve been dealing with this cleanup since I was old enough to explore manual override.”

I love that he’s doing this for me, but I’m also too uncomfortable to meet his gaze or watch him tend to me so my eyes fall on the bed—and I nearly recoil.

“What?”

“Your sheets!”

He chuckles, and with his clean hand, he catches my chin and pulls my face up to his. “Rachel, I know how to do laundry.”

Face hot, I kiss his nose. “You’re a keeper.”

“Pleased you think so because you’re not getting rid of me.” With a last stroke that I’m not so sure is necessary for cleaning purposes, he pulls away.

But as he pulls the washcloth away, a shiny strand of his cum comes with it, elongating until I feel a tugging sensation from deep inside my snatch.

“AH!” I stare in horror at the ghoulish monster spunk stretching out of me .

Shepard swipes the cloth down again to scoop the little remnant away, and smiles at me. Although when he sees my expression, his smile is more a grimace. “Sorry.”

Sensitive to feeling ashamed for shifter traits I have no control over, I touch his thigh and murmur, “It’s no problem.”

He bends down to kiss me, keeping the washcloth clutched in his hand away from me, thankfully. When we surface from the kiss, Shepard stares into my eyes for a moment, silent, and being the object of such focus— his focus—is making my whole body tingle.

Before I can decide what I should do, he straightens from the bed and moves to, I presume, the sinks down the hall.

I should get up and pee, but I don’t feel like moving.

When he comes back, he scoops me into his arms, strips off the top sheet, and drops down with me so that we’re tangled together on his bed, sated, and that’s how we drift off. Best sleep ever.