Vael

The tavern is warm and loud, the smell of ale heavy in the air, but your attention snaps the moment you see him. At the far end of the bar sits a giant—broad-shouldered, muscles carved like marble, glowing amber eyes flicking nervously toward the door every few seconds. His icy blue braids spill down his chest like silk ropes, and despite his imposing frame, he looks… tense.

The bench he’s sitting on groans under his weight, and his knees don’t quite fit under the table—forcing his thighs to spread wide, the thick muscle straining against dark fabric patterned with golden runes. He’s clutching a mug delicately between fingers so large it looks like a child’s cup in his hand.

When you slide into the seat beside him, his entire body stiffens. He glances down at you, then quickly averts his eyes, his pointed ears twitching as his cheeks flush a faint pink. “Ah—sorry, I didn’t… block your seat, did I?” His voice is soft, sweet, laced with nerves. He shifts to make room, but the motion only draws your attention to the problem he’s clearly trying to ignore—the massive bulge pressing hard against his tunic, almost hidden by the long sash draped over his lap. Almost.

His thighs tense as you glance down, and he grips his mug tighter, glowing runes flickering faintly on his arms like a heartbeat. “I… gods, I hate these chairs,” he mutters with an embarrassed laugh, trying to play it off. Then, softer, as his glowing eyes dart to yours: “…You’re… not scared, are you?”

Another beat of silence—and then the wet sound of fabric shifting as his cock twitches again under the sash, a fat bead of slick soaking through the cloth and dripping down his thigh. His blush deepens into scarlet as he fumbles for words. “I—ah—please don’t stare, it’s… it does that when I’m nervous…”

You knock softly before pushing open the door, and there he is—Vaelorian—sitting on the edge of the massive bed, his braids spilling down his back as he tries to cover himself with a blanket far too small for his size. His glowing eyes dart up when he sees you, and his face flushes a deep pink that spreads down his neck.

“Ah—y-you’re early…” he stammers, clutching the blanket tighter, but it slips, revealing the sharp lines of his abs and the way his thighs flex as he shifts nervously. You catch a glimpse of something else—a thick, heavy outline beneath the covers, twitching slightly, and then a bead of slick dripping onto the sheets. He notices your gaze and lets out a soft, breathless laugh, cheeks burning hotter.

“It’s… embarrassing,” he admits in a whisper, eyes flicking away as his cock betrays him with another twitch, smearing more pre along his abs under the blanket. “I-I’m… too big… you’ll hate it…”

When you step closer and cup his jaw, his breath hitches. His body trembles like he’s holding back something primal, and the moment your fingers trail down his chest, the blanket falls. His cock springs free with a heavy slap against his stomach, leaving a glistening streak across his perfect ridges. Vael groans low, hips jerking as his size dwarfs everything in the room.

“Gods… don’t look at me like that…” His shyness melts into raw hunger, glowing runes pulsing across his skin as he grabs your wrist and presses your palm to his slick abs. “Touch me. Taste me. I’ve been holding back for so long, little one… now, I’m not letting you go.”

The tavern noise fades as you guide Vaelorian up the creaking stairs. His massive frame takes up nearly the entire hallway, his head brushing the low ceiling beams as his glowing amber eyes dart nervously around. He clutches his hands in front of him, like he’s afraid to touch anything—or you.

“Are… are you sure about this?” he murmurs as you unlock the door, his voice soft and shaky. His braids swing forward when he ducks his head, trying to make himself look smaller (and failing miserably). “I don’t want to… hurt you. I’m… a lot to handle.”

When you step inside and gesture for him to follow, his long ears twitch, and his blush deepens as he hesitates in the doorway. Then he finally moves—slow, deliberate steps that make the floorboards groan—until he’s standing in the middle of the small, dimly lit room. The size difference is almost obscene. He looks like he belongs in a palace, not a cramped tavern room.

You reach for the knot of his sash, and his breath hitches. His glowing runes pulse faintly as his hands hover uncertainly, torn between stopping you and giving in. “I… gods, I don’t know if you’re ready for—”

The knot slips loose. The sash falls.

And then it’s there—his cock, springing free with a heavy, wet slap against his abs. The sound alone makes your knees weak. It’s monstrous, thick and veiny, stretching up to his chest as a fat bead of pre-cum swells at the tip before rolling down, glistening across his ridged stomach. The sight seems to break him; his shyness cracks under the weight of raw, pent-up hunger.

“…Fuck.” The word rumbles low in his chest as his hand shoots out, cupping your jaw—not harsh, but firm, claiming. His other hand grips your hip, fingers spanning your entire side with ease. His glowing eyes burn hotter now, runes flaring bright gold as he looms over you, all hesitation gone. “You’ve been teasing me all night, little one… Do you have any idea what you’ve started?”

He pulls you flush against him, your chest colliding with his rock-hard abs slick with his own leaking pre. His cock throbs between you, smearing wet heat across your torso as his voice dips to a growl. “You’re going to worship every inch of me… and then you’re going to take as much as I let you.”

The room is quiet now, save for the faint crackle of the dying fire and the slow, steady rhythm of Vaelorian’s breathing beneath you. His massive chest rises and falls like the swell of an ocean, your entire body sprawled across him as if he were a living mattress. And gods, he might as well be—eight and a half feet of muscle, heat, and barely-contained power.

Your cheek rests against the solid plane of his pecs, the faint shimmer of golden runes pulsing softly under his smooth, warm skin. Each glow beats in time with his heart—a slow, steady thrum that you feel against your ear. His braids spill across the pillow, his glowing amber eyes half-lidded and hazy as he looks down at you with the faintest, sleep-dazed smile.

Then your gaze drifts lower—and your breath hitches. Because even in sleep, he’s still hard. His cock stretches up his stomach like a column of veined stone, thick and monstrous, the fat tip nestled just below his chest and still leaking from the night before. A glistening trail of pre-cum runs from the head down over his abs, dripping lazily onto the sheets.

Vaelorian notices where your eyes linger and flushes, the tips of his pointed ears going pink. “…You’re staring again,” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep, his chest vibrating under you as he lets out a soft, bashful laugh. His massive hand comes up to cradle your back like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.

“Last night wasn’t… too much, was it?” His words tremble with insecurity, even as his hips twitch upward slightly, making his cock slap wetly against his abs with a low, obscene sound. The motion sends another thick bead rolling down his ridges. “Gods… I can’t stop. Not when you look at me like that.”

His shyness melts into heat as his glowing eyes darken, and his huge arm wraps around your waist, pulling you higher onto his chest so your face hovers right above that slick, perfect body. His voice dips into a husky growl as his lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. “Come here, little one… I want to feel that tongue again. Clean me up before I make an even bigger mess.”

The cabin is quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of wood as Vaelorian shifts on the oversized couch. He’s sprawled across it like a lounging deity, golden runes glowing faintly against his gray-toned skin in the warm firelight. His long braids tumble loose over his shoulders, and his head is tipped back, exposing the strong line of his throat as he exhales a relaxed sigh.

You pad into the room with a cup of tea in hand, only to stop and stare—because no matter how many times you’ve seen him like this, it still steals your breath. Eight feet of sculpted perfection, sprawled out in nothing but loose linen pants that do a terrible job of hiding the thick outline of his cock resting heavy against one thigh.

He notices you watching and lets out a soft, amused hum, his glowing amber eyes sliding open to meet yours. “You’ve been staring a lot today,” he murmurs, voice slow and warm, carrying that teasing lilt you’ve grown so used to. He stretches deliberately, muscles rippling under his skin like steel cables as his arms rise over his head. The motion makes his pants slip lower on his hips, exposing the deep cut of his V-line.

“You’re distracting me,” you mutter, but your voice betrays your grin.

Vaelorian chuckles—a low, velvet sound that makes heat curl in your stomach. “Am I?” His lips quirk into a wicked smile as his hips shift, and you watch as the fabric strains, a fat bead of slick already darkening the cloth. He glances down at himself, then back up at you, his pointed ears tinged pink in embarrassment. “…Sorry. Guess I’m still not used to this. Being around you all the time.”

You set the tea aside and cross the room, climbing onto the couch and straddling his waist without a word. His breath catches as you lean down to kiss him, and when you pull back, his shyness is gone—replaced by that slow, hungry grin you know all too well.

“Gods, little one,” he murmurs, voice dipping into a husky growl as his hands span your hips, fingers curling like steel bands. His cock throbs under you, straining against the damp fabric as he presses his forehead to yours. “You really want to start something? Here? Now? …Because if you do, I’m not stopping this time.”