You clapped a hand over your mouth as Dirk mouthed his way down your neck. It shouldn't feel as good as it did - you should not be the sensitive!
Your mind was hazy, which was probably due to the fact that he had just saved you from - well, to put it bluntly, dying in his land. You'd forgotten your mask again.
He'd been furious, flying out back to your land and slamming you against one of the stone structures. You expected him to yell at you; instead, he spoke in a threateningly quiet voice.
And then he'd smashed his lips against yours, leading to the situation you're currently in.
Your vest is torn off, the buttons almost snapping off, and he pulls your shirt over your head quickly and efficiently. Your mind has yet to catch up with his actions, and by the time it does, your pants are down to your knees and his shirt is off.
You grab his arms, forcing him to stop, panting. "Dirk?" you ask, confused.
He glares at you. "Shut up." He slams his mouth against yours again briefly, and his hand snakes down your boxers.
By this time, you're really turned on. It's times like this when you appreciate Dirk's possessiveness.
Dirk mouths his way down your neck, your chest, tweaking your nipples with his adept fingers. You let out a breathy moan, and you're not too far gone to feel embarrassed. He dips his tongue into your belly button, and you roll your hips.
He yanks down your boxers and takes your mostly hard cock in his hand. It jumps at his touch, making you cover your eyes in shame. They don't stay covered for long when he takes it into his mouth, sucking hard.
You groan, fisting your hands in his spikey hair, and he holds down your hips before you can buck. He hollows out his cheeks as he goes down on you - you're always shocked at how much he can take into his mouth, but you're not complaining when his throat opens up and his nose bumps your pelvis.
He works you with his mouth, sucking and licking and kissing up your length, until you're on the edge of orgasm. When he pulls off, you let out a keening whine.
"Are you gonna let me fuck you or am I gonna have to top from the bottom?" he asks shamelessly, refusing to touch your dick until you answer.
"F-fuck, I'll take it, just let me cum," you stammer out, your need making your language worsen and your accent thicken.
He moves his hand up to your mouth and demands you to suck.
You take them into your mouth ad do your best to get them wet, sliding your tongue over and around them. He pulls them out and you quickly feel them prodding you.
You try to relax, knowing it'll make you less uncomfortable. You haven't done this many times, and it still feels kind of strange, but in a good way.
He stretches you efficiently, before pulling a bottle of something out of his back pocket and and pulls off his pants, kicking them off. When you see he's gone commando, you find that unbearably hot, and just barely bite back a moan.
He coats his cock in line (the bastard, now you know he purposely just wanted to see you sucking on something) and stands up fully, lifting you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and pushes you against the wall for support. When he slides into you, filling you, you clutc at his hair and bite his shoulder, moaning.
He shudders when he's fully seated, hands grasping your thighs. "Fuck you're tight," he mumbles. He slowly sets up a rhythm, moving his hips with slow precision, and you're overloaded with sensation; but it's not enough. You need him to go faster, harder, and you realize you must have said that allowed because he's chuckling at you, nipping your neck, sucking on it, and whispering in your ear what you begged him for, but in vivid detail. You dig your nails into his shoulder when he starts thrusting harder and faster, making you bounce and your head loll back, exposing your tanned neck. He's quick to take advantage, biting and sucking and leaving bruises along it. His hand wraps around your cock and your done, screaming and grabbing Dirk hard, your cum splashing on both your chests. He's quick to follow, thrusting through your high and emptying inside of you. You both collapse on the soft grass, you lying on top of him.
"Maybe I should forget my mask more often," you mumble tiredly. He laughs.
"Not a chance, English."