Sunlight gently tickled your skin as you wake up. One of your eyes opens a little to observe your lover, drawing the curtains. You groan, pulling the sheets further over your head, deciding to ignore the fact that it was no longer a socially acceptable time to sleep. This seems to work for approximately 30 seconds, just enough for you to feel a dip on the bed, and then a weight sprawled over you and the sheets you're under. They're gently tugged from your hands, uncovering your face. The sweet smell of your lover is enough to make you open your eyes fully this time, meeting a gentle, dark red pair, accompanying a playful smirk.
"Since when are you a morning person?" you mumble, playfully grumpy as you nuzzle your face just below your lover's jaw. You can feel her lips kissing the top of your head, then her soft voice murmuring into your scalp. "Ever since you changed your definition of morning to include noon, habibti," she teased playfully. "Can't believe I'm getting bullied in my own house," you mutter, your voice still raspy and hoarse yet easily conveying your playful tone. "If you want to get bullied, all you need to do is ask," she retorts, a hand trailing up and through your hair, nails leaving gentle scritches at your scalp. You feel her shift on top of you, removing the sheets until her soft thighs are in between yours as she lays directly on top of you. Her other hand plays with the hem of your baggy T-shirt. You hardly notice, however, as her nails in your hair provide a significant challenge to any coherent thinking whatsoever.
You want to say something smart, but all that comes out is soft, sleepy noises as you melt into her touches. "Aww, what's wrong, puppy?" she teases, the heart-shaped tip of her demonic tail brushing playfully over your thigh. "Cat got your tongue?" You wrap your arms around her waist, huffing indignantly. "No, but this sexy demon lady seems to have snatched it," you mutter, the words scratching at the inside of your throat. Her brows furrow in fake, sickly-sweet worry. "Aww, you sound a little hoarse, baby," she coos. Her sickly-sweet tone would annoy you if you didn't love this woman so damn much. "Need a throat massage?" she offers innocently, and you nod without much thought, pouting at her.
You're never one to turn down some attention from the skillful, loving hands of your girlfriend. There's a playful twinkle in her eyes, and you shift up until her lips are almost touching yours, pausing just a second to feel her breath on your mouth before you close the gap. The kiss starts out soft and sweet, her tongue swiping over your bottom lip, the familiar gesture urging you to open your mouth. You happily sigh into the kiss as it deepens, her tongue growing a little more possessive, the hand in your hair gripping rather than scritching now, holding your head in place. Your own hands roam over her soft skin, mildly unamused that her underwear is in the way of your path.
The kiss ends far too quickly, but her firm grip gives your head a little tug as you try to chase her mouth. "Ah, ah, ah, puppy, I do believe I promised you that throat massage," she says, softly chuckling at your eagerness. The blush that's been slowly travelling up your face only grows deeper at the tone of her voice and the nickname she uses, but you can't help but think you'd much rather have her hands on other parts of your body right now. The mischievous look in her eyes tells you she knows exactly what she's doing to you. "Now, be good for me and open wide." Your brow raises in confusion, an inquisitive look on your face, but she's already tilting your head back. "What are you-"
Before you can finish your sentence, her mouth is on yours again, her tongue much more demanding this time as it enters, no, claims your mouth. A whimper escapes your throat, drawing a possessive growl out from deep in your lover's chest. The hand tangled in your scalp holds your head in place as the other brushes over your neck, your chin, dipping under the wide neckline of your shirt to trace your collarbones. Her touch isn't rough, but it's firm in its gentleness, taking what it wants from you, her nails occasionally digging in when you squirm a little too much underneath her. Her legs shift until they've switched places with yours and she settles on top of your waist, straddling you fully. Her long, slightly pointy tongue continues its path, reaching further into your mouth. Your eyes widen as she reaches the back of your throat, realisation suddenly dawning on you about what exactly she meant when she said "throat massage".
You barely have time to process these findings before her tongue pushes on through, your gag reflex protesting at the motion, your eyes tearing up as you make muffled noises that could mean anything from protesting to begging for more. You're not really sure what you're asking for either, but it doesn't really matter, the rising heat and increasing urgency with which you rub your thighs together telling your lover all she needs to know. Her long, demonic tongue dips further into your throat, claiming you easily, leaving you flushed and gasping. Your nails dig into your back where your hands have settled on her, and she makes a noise of approval at your flushed squirming as her tongue slowly comes back up a little, only to dip back down. She lazily fucks your throat with it, her hand trailing back to your neck and wrapping around it to feel your throat bulge slightly around her.
She's fucked your face plenty with toys, even with the generously-sized cock she could grow, but never like this. You knew she could grow her tongue out, having felt it plenty all over your body before, but this is new, and it's turning you on way more than you'd like to admit. The way she claims you with it doesn't leave much room in your head for coherent thinking, turning you into a squirming, whimpering mess underneath her. Your chest heaves with arousal as her tongue slides in and out your throat over and over again, each movement scrambling your brain and adding to the building heat in the pit of your stomach.
Eventually, she slides her tongue back out of your mouth, licking over your lips and then her own as it shrinks back to its regular size in her mouth. She grins at you, releasing her grip on you only to watch you fall limply to the bed. Your face is so red it probably matches her skin tone by now as you gasp and sputter, chest heaving, so overcome with arousal you barely remember how to move your arms, let alone speak. She basks in your delicious reaction, barely able to contain the satisfied smirk on her face as she observes you. She uses this opportunity not only to fuel her ego but also to make sure you're okay. She thinks you don't notice, but you always do, and the thought of how much love and care she puts into ruining you thoroughly is enough to release a happy sigh. She leans down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead, then gets off of you to hop off the bed. She casually trails her hand through your hair to tidy up your hair, then takes off, teasingly swaying her hips as she walks to the door. "See you at breakfast," she drawls, sounding way too pleased with herself as she blows you a kiss, leaving you to collect yourself.