Lance yanked Ashton back by his hips, sending Ashton rolling on the floor. Lance spread Ashton on his belly and pressed his cheeks apart.
"Lance," Ashton whined. Lance licked his way up Ashton's back, removing the rest of Ashton's clothes as he shivered. Lance slid his own pants down just enough to let his own cock out, and slid inside. "Lance!"
"Fuck," Lance growled in Ashton's ear as he pressed fully on top of Ashton and sheathed his cocks full length inside. "How the hell are you still so tight?"
Lance began to move, hard and fast, making Ashton see stars and moan loudly. Lance adored these sounds and sped up. He tugged Ashton's hair to turn a little to face him. Ashton moaned louder and began to drool. Lance licked up Ashton's drool from chin to mouth. Then, Lance dove into the kiss and slid his tongue into Ashton's mouth, swallowing Ashton's moans as Lance began to pound into Ashton like it was the only way for Lance to stay alive. Lance hands abused Ashton's chest, flicking his nipples, and tugging the. Ashton felt his head grow dizzy, but he didn't hate the feeling, especially with how quickly his prostate was getting hit so fast, nearly punishing with pace. Ashton's legs began to twitch, his tongue barely able to press against Lance's, then Ashton screamed, and covered the floor in his white release, both his cocks, trembling as they emptied.
"Ah, no more, so sore," Ashton begged, panting. Lance angled his hips and got back to work, his hips pistoning in and out of Ashton, growing faster, and going in harder. Ashton drooled on the floor, feeling new parts inside him being hit that he never knew were possible, even for dragons like him. "Ah! Lance! Gah! Too good, too deep!"
"Fuck, almost there, not done," Lance growled against Ashton's chest, and sped up, his hands gripping Ashton's hips, and he exploded inside Ashton's hole. Ashton roared, cumming again on the floor.
Lance wouldn't allow Ashton time alone and kept going for more rounds in the night. Ashton didn't tell him to stop, and if anything, Ashton was enjoying the new angles and how his insides were hit. Even if Ashton tried to, he couldn't make proper words or sentences by round three. And by morning, Ashton was covered in more marks than healing ones, and Lance made sure Ashton could barely feel his legs, and could barely speak without feeling absolutely exhausted with even just a small flinch or squeak. Lance wouldn't stop until Ashton passed out at round nine. Leaving Ashton in a twitching, lust-drunk state. Leaving him in Lance's hands. In some ways, it was a good thing; in other ways, it was a pain. Figurative and literal meanings.
"..." When Ashton opened his eyes, he could barely feel his body. But he felt his rear was in absolute agony after last night. Ashton could barely move. "Stupid gargoyle."
"Yes?" Lance said, wrapping an arm around Ashton's sore waist in bed.