Kinktober, Monster Edition (Oct 19-20) – HARPY

The prompt for October 19-20 is HARPY and I chose facesitting as the kink. (prompt credit: Tia Liet)

Orien, king of harpies, watches the sun rise over a system of nested trees in the valley below. Raven black feathers frame his face, elongating into a cape down his back. Shorter feathers fluff his waist like regal vestments, spanning down his thighs to his calves before thinning out above his taloned feet. His chest is a smooth, open plane, skin inlaid with a bruisy hue. Shards of amethyst border his eyes like bejeweled face paint, an inherited feature of his lineage.

On quiet mornings he takes his time to brush sleep from his feathers. If the day ahead has a full schedule, which it often does, he spends the early hours pacing the balcony outside his bedchamber, mentally preparing for endless council meetings, public addresses of his subjects’ concerns, and his least favorite—sentencing duty.

Orien flexes his claws as the sunrise peaks, then heads inside through a whisper of gauzy drapes. Today is a special anniversary, so his schedule has been cleared—as he’d decreed to both the council and his closest advisors.

The king’s bedchamber isn’t grandiose in size and contains exactly what he needs; though not without a dash of superficial finery. A raised stone fountain babbles endlessly, occupying a square corner. Gold and jewels glimmer from dangling mobiles to statuettes to engraved urns that hold tropical flowers.

A domed cage takes up the center of the room, protecting the king’s most valuable treasure. Layered across the cage floor are scraps of silk, wisps of cotton, and tufts of yarn, cradling a human man wrapped in woven blankets against the chilly air.

Orien crosses the cage’s threshold, crouching on his talons over the human. The king had learned firsthand how delicate humans are, without flight and nothing but easily torn skin to shield their bones. He despises them as a whole, but this one is his worthy exception.

Most humans looked upon him with equal parts fear and disgust; this one rarely viewed him with anything but wonder and reverence. There had been fear at first, when the human had stumbled into the harpies’ valley by accident. Orien’s guardsmen had captured the human and brought him in for questioning, under the assumption he was a spy. Orien had been a prince and the king’s inquisitor at the time, and he’d extracted the truth: the human had been on a forest hike, intending to camp and study the local wildlife.

Since then a year had passed with the urgency of a war cry—Orien had been crowned king and had declared the human his mate, much to the council’s initial chagrin. So long as he ruled with benevolence like his father, the rest of the kingdom would eventually come around.

Orien brushes a bit of the human’s dark, curly head fur aside, revealing a relaxed face that he regrets he’ll have to disturb. The human has a name—Cole, the same sound as the thick black seams that ribbon the harpy’s valley—but the king calls him something else when they’re alone together.

“Wake up, beloved.”

The human blinks sleepily before he smiles. “Good morning, my king.” He rolls onto his back and stretches, the blanket sliding to his waist. His belly is soft and round, scattered with the same color of fur that matches his head. “How may I service you?”

“Obedient pet,” Orien says, lightly running a claw down Cole’s chest. “It’s a special occasion, so I’ll let you decide.”

Cole giggles at Orien’s teasing; due to his vulnerable body, the human chooses their activities more often than the king. Cole folds his arms over his head. “Perhaps you should use my mouth as you see fit, your Majesty.”

It’s one of the human’s favorite positions, and Orien isn’t inclined to tire of it—he could get rough with parts of his avian body that wouldn’t harm Cole, assert some dominance despite the human’s proven loyalty.

Orien shifts forward on his knees, taking his time to arrange himself around Cole’s shoulders. His legs split wide so his talons are clear of flesh ripping distance. He lightly rests his ass on Cole’s chest, enough to situate his front half. Between his legs, he sweeps aside a tuft of gray powder down, exposing his small, half-hard cock, its flared base furling around his cloaca.

The king of harpies lowers himself onto the human’s face, his skin meeting eager lips. Cole drags his tongue through Orien’s folds, tastes him as he rubs his nose against Orien’s cock.

Cole’s hands encase Orien’s thighs as he initiates rhythm, stroking the soft barbs of the king’s dark feathers. He curls his fingers to tell Orien he’s ready for more, that he’s ready to be used as requested.

Orien widens his legs, pressing his crotch tighter against the human’s face. “That’s it, pet,” he coos, rocking his hips to get a full pass of Cole’s tongue, cock tapping his nose before he swivels back. “Show me how good you can be.”

Cole’s response is a muffled, choked sound that rumbles from his chest. His lips seek Orien’s cock, sucking him hard with each pass. Orien changes his movements, opting for shallow thrusts into his human’s mouth. He needles his claws through Cole’s head fur, squeezing in a brief show of possession rather than control.

Then Orien straightens his posture, peering down his long, feathered torso, past the bare, purpled skin of his belly. Cole’s face is flushed, his eyes closed in focus.

“Eyes on me, pet,” Orien commands.

Cole’s eyes flip up with a soft grunt and his grip on Orien’s thighs loosens. Orien takes Cole’s head fur in hand again, this time with intentional purchase as he rides Cole’s face. Every part of Cole’s body except his mouth goes lax, opening himself up for his king to take what he wants. He flicks his tongue stiffly against the slick skin grinding against him.

“That’s it,” Orien pants as Cole hums against him. “Make your king come.”

Cole presses his tongue flat as Orien thrusts into his face. When he comes, the king of harpies lets out a bloodcurdling shriek, digging his claws into the feathers lining his thighs. He feels the human flinch beneath him, but only from the sound—his face remains buried in Orien’s sex, catching the gush of cum on his lips.

Knocked into dizziness by his climax, Orien shakily eases himself off Cole. He rests his cheek on Cole’s soft belly and smiles at the sounds rattling Cole’s insides. “You are hungry.”

“Oh, I already ate,” Cole says, chuckling at his joke. He strokes matted tufts of down across Orien’s scalp. “Yes, my king. I’m hungry.”

Orien dangles his face close to Cole’s, knowing that without Cole’s lenses, he’s a blur of black and purple from the human’s perspective. “I don’t want to always be your king in here,” he says.

Cole licks his lips as he preens. “But I like calling you my king after you’ve come on my face.” Orien scrapes his teeth over Cole’s chin, catching a hint of his own cum. He kisses Cole on the mouth, tasting more of himself as his tongue parts Cole’s lips. “Get dressed, beloved,” he says, patting Cole’s cheek. “And after breakfast, I think I’ll have you for dessert.”

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