Page 5 of Rago

Sergeant Rago Eerik—deep in his slumber and starkers as you like—served as my mattress, pillow and comforter all-in-one. Nice and heavy across my back, his arms enfolded me in a tight, protective hold.

Lying on my side, partly sprawled on him, I’d draped my leg over his thighs. My cheek rested on his chest. And my right hand, as I realised to my utter horror, clutched at the man’s… important bit.

Which was hot and swollen. And not small by any standard.

Ooooooohhh.

I went rigid everywhere, anticipating sudden death from mortification. However, I continued to fare fine and dandy, breathlessness and a dizzy spell aside. Those, I attributed to my cock draining my brain of a considerable share of blood supply by going for full salute at the speed of magic. I blanked out, reacting on reflex. All that registered revolved around the veiny silkiness palpable in my grasp and how good it felt to, well, palpate it. The more I stroked and squeezed, the more the firm and sleek texture goaded me into keeping at it.

Rago rolled his black-haired head towards me. In a flutter of lashes, his eyes flew open, their irises reduced to edgings of green.

Flicking his tongue along his parted lips, he gave a low groan. “Lieutenant Ĉortez,” he rasped. “What the… Mmm. Ohh, gods.”

Immediately, his mellow, chesty voice enthralled me. I could listen to the man talk—or moan—all day.

“Good morning,” I managed stupidly.

“Damn right it is. But you, aaah, probably shouldn’t be doing this, sir.”

I didn’t argue. Rest assured, I shouldn't be. Yet somehow I didn’t—couldn't—stop. My hand worked away, gliding up and down his generous length as if tomorrow didn’t exist. Stunned and aroused by my brazen actions, I breathed in synchronised gasps with Rago. I arched into his muscled frame with more vigour, unable to break eye contact.

“It will get, aaaaah, messy if you carry on,” Rago grunted through clenched teeth, a muscle jerking in his cheek, “and pretty damn quick. Like right about now.”

The man proved true to his word. His release coated my fingers on the last syllable.

My mouth dry and my balls achy, I shivered and panted, as if I were the one to reach completion.

Rago’s body relaxed against mine.

I started when he reached to thumb my lower lip, ever so gently. Placing his hard, warm hand at the back of my head, he guided me towards his mouth.

Our teeth clicked. The kiss—deep, dirty and voracious—dazed me. But even more, it had me tearing up. Twenty-nine winters to my name, yet I didn’t know such kisses existed. How could I? No one had kissed me like that before—with a riveting combination of tenderness, impatience and controlled dominance. No one had ever needed me that way, as if doom would claim the world if we separated a moment too soon.

Luckily for the world—we didn’t. Not for a long time, at any rate.

Chest full, I sensed the change in me. It flooded my veins with something light and floaty. Magic, perhaps? I couldn’t name the phenomenon any more than I could understand it, but I knew the odd sensation to be true. And it made me so happy I wanted to burst into song.

I resisted the impulse, thus saving Rago’s—no doubt—extra sensitive hearing from sustaining extensive damage. Instead, I studied him in adoring silence, utterly dazzled.

Rago misread my reaction. Alarmed, he drew back, slipping away from my embrace. His face tightened in a stricken expression.

At the sight of his eyes dimmed with dejection, I panicked. “No!” I protested and held on to him without thinking, shamelessly chasing his touch, upset at the mere thought of him at a distance. And distressed to have caused him distress.

At once, Rago stilled in my arms. “No, sir?” he said, peering down at me.

During the pause that followed, I tried to find a way to confess my confused yearnings, wishing he’d quit calling me sir when my hand was still sticky with his seed. “No. Don’t move. I… I need you close,” I blurted out with all the subtlety I could muster.

His lips stretched in a rapid smile—a smile that would be the death of me, I could foresee that much. “You do? All right.” He sobered just as fast, though. “You’re certain?”

It sounded a simple question. But somehow I became aware that by giving Rago an affirmative answer, I would bind our paths forever.

My decision must’ve been reflected in my eyes because his face lit up. “You know what that means, Laahn, don’t you?”

Hangover or not (did dragon shifters get hangovers at all?), he remembered my name. The reverie in his tone had me shivering. My pulse quickened and my face heated under his watchful gaze. I nodded once and then twice, for good measure.

Did I understand the gravity of what I’d agreed to? What I’d accepted? Not entirely, in all sincerity. But it mattered not, because I wanted that regardless. It felt honest and essential to a degree that made everything else appear superficial and negligible. I couldn’t wait to figure it all out with him in the future. Gradually. Slowly. And later. Much later. After more kissing. More touching. More… paying attention to my dick, which had been straining for the Empire, for the gods’ sake, hard as steel, throbbing and ready to burst.

“I do,” I confirmed, shifting around and poking Rago in the hip with the bulge in my trousers. By accident, for the most part.