A Taste Of The Wild
A gruff voice asks him from behind. From the tone of it, the man is still hesitating. Even after he’s plied him with a generous amount of Moonshine and assured him with his most husky voice that he’d so lay with him. And his legendary manhood. Nobody has ever been able to resist him when he uses his most husky voice. Even less when he flashes them his doe eyes innocently. And the man has sure followed him there, enthralled like a man lured by the most attractive mermaid.
“Of course it’s what I want! Just go with it, man! Unless you want to hear me beg for you to get done with it?” Satin answers in a tone of voice he hopes doesn’t show how annoyed he is. “Please! Breach me! Tear my tight little ass open on that great manhood of yours! Fuck me ‘till I’m all sore and cannot even remember my name! Please! Do it!”
Satin whines in his most exquisite, seducing voice. He even humps his hips and grinds them against the man’s still laced groin. It shames him how much like a bitch in heat he’s acting. Even throughout his years as a man whore, Satin has not pleaded with as much desperation as he does right now to be fucked by a man. Oh, he has played the cow boy, waiting to be laid. He has also pretended to beg for it for some desirous patrons. But never has he wanted to be buggered as much as he does right now, and so it’s with earnest that he begs for it. And gods, will the man move?
“I swear boy, it will hurt. Like a bitch!”
The man adds as he palms Satin’s lower back, then cup one of his naked mound of flesh. Satin moans, and feels his manhood strains even further, aching to grind itself against the closest surface. But in his position, on all fours on the man’s cot and back arched like he’s born for it, there’s nothing to be done for it. The air around them is chilling, but Satin can barely feel it so much he’s aroused, blood burning from it in his whole body.
“I’m no shy maiden! And I know full well how it’s done! Come on, man! I cannot beg more for it!”
Satin answers, nearly exasperate that it takes so much prompting for the man to fuck him.
“You might not be one. A shy maiden I mean. But I’m damn sure you don’t know what it’s like to be fucked the way I do it.”
The man insists as a hand pushes his tunic higher, near his shoulder, to caress his white, smooth skin. The other hand, the one still on Satin’s buttock squeezes and massages his tender flesh. Satin sighs, and moans, not expecting the tenderness underneath the gruff gestures.
“It’s exactly to be fucked the way you do that I came to you!” Satin taunts back in a teasing voice.
“I swear it, Southerner. You’ve never felt something like it!”
And of course, Satin knows it! Why else would he act like the cheapest whore to get the man’s member in his arse? He’s not used to insisting so much. No man has ever hesitated as much to have sex with him as the man is doing now. Apart from Jon Snow. But the man is just so obnoxious! Nothing to be done for it.
But Satin wants it! He desires it, craves for it like a thirsty man would water after a week of not having any. He wants it more than ever, so much that it nearly makes him feel uneasy. But the tales seem so promising!
If it was the man alone talking about it, Satin would not yearn it as much. He might even dismiss it as bragging from a man desperate for attention. But it’s not just him. Women too, talk about it. Satin has surprised some discussions in hushed voices from Wildling women while he was cleaning laundry for him and Jon. And more than once. He salivates for it ever since.
Please, just do it! If the man could just stop dallying. It’s been more than five minutes Satin has been waiting on the man’s bed, all exposed and ready for the man to take him and be done with it. That’s without the whole hour of him blinking at the man, and smiling innocently at first, then more wantonly as time went by. By the time Satin went to the man and asked him if there was anything Satin could do to make sure the man enjoyed a warm enough night, there could not be any more doubt that Satin wanted the man to fuck him. The man’s eyes shone with something yearning when he finally understood Satin’s desires. Oh yes , Satin would have a night to remember!
If only the damn man could finally move!
“Then make me feel it! I want it! Badly! So just get done with it and fuck me properly, damn it!” Satin snaps back, feeling totally desperate now.
Man, he’s totally losing himself to his desires.
“Your wishes, pretty boy!” The man says, before seizing Satin’s hip with one hand, his other one guiding his cock to Satins’ exposed entrance and pushing.
Satin feels his eyes widen and his mouth opens in a silent cry as he feels the flesh of his opening being spread so wide opened that he’s sure something will tear down there. He might have stretched his channel with three well-coated fingers and oiled his walls more than generously before seducing the man to bugger him. But it is apparent now that no preparations could have been enough for Satin to be ready to painlessly take the man’s imposing girth in him.
And he likes it that way. Oh , he does!
Instead of dulling Satin’s arousal, the searing pain in his backside arouses him to no end as he can feel the man’s impossibly huge cock stretch him impossibly wide as he gets deeper and deeper in Satin. Actually, Satin feels exhilarated as he can feels the cock force its way in Satin’s tight channel, pushing against his insides to make way for even more girth.
Satin is all shaky and panting when at last the impressive cock stops moving. Somewhere between his stomach and his throat. Or so it feels like. His erection has somewhat waned along the way, but he’s leaking like a small fountain, and a few strokes are enough to make him rock hard again.
Behind him, he can hear the man groan, way above him. His hands release the now bruised flesh of Satin’s hips, only to grip his buttocks and spread his flesh even more opened. The sighs the man lets out at the sight there only makes Satin’s heart pump harder in his chest.
“Damn it, boy! You’re so tight around me! Better even than a maiden’s head! If only you could see how opened I have you!”
The man groans behind Satin, causing him to moan as the big rough hands keeps alternating between squeezing his tender flesh apart to then massage it firmly.
He moans even louder when the imposing cock move backwards some bit, before thrusting in again.
“That’s it! Yes! Keep going!” Satin encourages as the man’s thrusts gain in assurance and fuck him deeper and harder.
The man needs no further encouragement. He pounds mercilessly in Satin, who grasps the sheet so tightly that his knuckles go white. He angles his hips ever so slightly, searching the right position…and hisses when the first thrust finally hits his pleasure spot.
From then on, they match moans for moans, groans for groans. The man keeps pounding relentlessly in Satin, who takes it all with the greatest pleasure. He thrusts back to meet the pounding cock, raises even more his rear to ease its access. Anything to get more of it! And at last, the man gives Satin exactly what he wants.
Later, Satin would remember this moment as something eerie as the man grasps Satin’s hips in a near crushing way when he nears his climax. The pounding becomes so violent that it nearly scares Satin, as the man stabs him harder and harder with his member, seemingly trying to gut him out as he stabs more and more viciously. The man’s hips crashes increasingly forcefully against Satin’s exposed rear, forcing his whole body forward and making the whole bed frame shake and cringe noisily. And the groans! The man fucks him as if he is at war, as if Satin is the enemy, and the man will victor over him, crush him into pieces, make sure he won’t rise again. The man fucks him like a beast, like the wildest beast to walk the earth and defy winter and death itself. There’s something so wild and triumphant as the beasty man finally release himself with a loud roar, that Satin comes more from it than from the bliss fusing from his rear to his whole body.
* * * * *
Satin always love this moment. When both him and his partner are lax and sated from their coupling, limbs tangled lazily as the breathing in their chest get more and more appeased. His body still shivers from the tingling remnants of his quite potent orgasm. He lets himself being cuddled and cherished for a few more precious moments.
But then obligations quick in, and with more use that he would like, Satin resists to the temptation of simply enjoying further this appeasing moment after the wildness and he untangles himself from the man’s heavy limbs. He hisses when he sits, and bites down a groan when he bends down to pick his clothes.
“So, Southerner. Had what you wanted?”
The man asks from behind Satin, voice slurred by the alcohol, his orgasm and tiredness. And of course, his voice is still so smug that it’s plain that he’s not really questioning his aptitudes.
“Of course I have! I knew what I’d get when I went to you!” Satin taunts back with nonchalance, voice all velvety.
“Let no one say that Tormund Giantsbane doesn’t know how to fuck. My skills in bed are as great as my sword!”
The man jokes with pride, a wide smile on his lips as he lays on his side, looking at Satin as he dresses himself. Satin smiles back before turning around to walk to the door. He totally expects it when he’s stopped moments before he opens the door by the man talking again.
“You can come back. If you wish.”
The man adds. Is it a note of desperation Satin hears in his voice?
“I mean, I’ve never had such a great taste of the South. I’d like more.”
Oh yes, it’s totally desperation!
Satin lets it simmer just long enough to tease the red hair man. Kissed by fire they say. He likes that notion.
“If you fuck me as well as you did tonight, minus all the hesitation, I’d be more than glad to come again. For more of the taste of Wildling.”
Satin bites back with a wink and a teasing smile from over his shoulder, before turning around and walking out of Tormund’s rooms. He doesn’t need to see it to know Tormund was smiling, and ogling his ass before his view got blocked by the closed door.
Now he only has to hope Jon won’t inquire about him walking gingerly, even more so if it becomes a habit. The misfortune of his Lord Commander being too innocent to pay notice to Satin’s seduction now becomes his fortune that he won’t understand the difference.
Jon Snow so knows nothing!