Early Access 1 of September: Comp. Vol. 15 (Zenyatta centric)

 Zenyatta/Dragonspirit – Cryptid; Mating; Bonding; Belly Bulge; Extreme Size Difference – We Love You 

“Are you afraid, koibito?” Genji watches the ethereal green glow of the spirit materializing in front of them. Big and sleek and crackling with energy as it coils in on itself after stretching out long and luxurious on the top of the mountain they have elected for their ceremony.

“No,” Zenyatta whispers and then, following immediately after: “I don’t know.” Zenyatta shudders in his arms. When Genji’s eyes flick down from the large, emotionless eyes of the spirit, he can see goosebumps pebbling along his lover’s arms and shoulders. Zenyatta’s gaze is transfixed on the creature, his plump mouth dropped open.

The spirit moves and Genji’s gaze is back on him. It has been years since he’s last met face to face with the spirit resting within him, and his restlessness immediately touches his master, making Genji squirm and curl his arms tighter around Zenyatta. Energy sparks off of the ends of the Dragon’s whiskers as his mouth drops open, showing rows of sharp teeth as long as a grown man’s arm.

His nostrils flare, audibly pulling in the cool night air, then he bends his large head lower, coming close enough for them to feel the warmth of his aura surrounding him.

Zenyatta sighs and shifts slightly; knees spreading beneath his brown robe, supple thighs spreading for the dragonspirit as easily as he does his katas in the morning. When Genji leans across his shoulder to have a look at his face, Zenyatta’s cheeks are flush with an almost sickly looking blush, his eyes heavy and glassy.

Genji breathes out, a soft ‘hah’ of confused amusement at just how quick and easy it has been. The one second he is not sure whether the spirit will accept Zenyatta as a mate; wondering nervously if the throbbing, prickling energy around him will hurt the monk or even kill him for trying his luck –

and the next the Dragon already has him under his thrall, easy as anything, his long tongue slithering out and tasting the air before touching Zenyatta’s cheek and chin with an almost heartbreaking gentleness.

Genji wonders dazedly, as he watches the spirit settle down along the mountain, glowing bright enough to make it seem as if night has become day, how he could have ever thought that the beast residing within him could do anything but absolutely adore his young companion.

Zenyatta, who he’s found in that lonely, little monastery – a beautiful flower that Genji would never have been able not to carefully pluck and sit into his own palace where it could be nurtured and pampered.

The creature’s breath is warm and humid; near hot as its nostrils become thin slits, then dilate once more as it breathes in again. The snake-like tongue slips out once more, soft and flexible yet still as wide as Zenyatta’s wrist when it tastes the air around them. Zenyatta hums softly, squirming out of Genji’s gentle, secure hold and leans forward, arms open and inviting, hugging the big snout as the dragon moves a little bit closer still, large eyes thinning into slits of pleasure as the monk leans his forehead between his nostrils and nuzzles into the soft looking fur there.

The beast is long but slender; the snout just small enough that it can still comfortably fit between Zenyatta’s spread thighs; and as Genji looks on, the ground starts shaking with a deep, dull roar that he slowly identifies as the spirit’s purr.

He almost barks out a laugh, high and hysterical sounding, but can swallow it down at the last second. Of course the spirit would love Zenyatta. Of course Zenyatta would charm the beast into docile compliance within moments.

Genji lifts a shaking hand and cards fingers through his hair, staring in bewildered amusement as the dragon spirit nudges closer, pushing his snout against Zenyatta’s chest, the crackling energy around his gently undulating whiskers reducing to nonexistence so he wouldn’t hurt the monk.

“He is… breathtaking,” Genji finally hears Zenyatta’s voice, deep despite his slender stature.

“Do you like him more than me?” Genji asks, only half joking, chest tight as he watches his spirit nudge at Zenyatta, urging him to lay backwards against Genji’s chest once more, before it begins sniffing at him in long, luxuriating pulls of air, the tip of his snout unerringly finding its way beneath Zenyatta’s robe.

“He is you,” Zenyatta answers, breath hitching as the dragon’s whiskers tickle his naked thighs, body arching faintly as the spirit pushes deeper and takes the simple brown robes with him; exposing more of Zenyatta’s long, brown thighs. “I love him…”

There it is again. This dreamy quality as the dragon exerts his thrall again, gentle but there.

And Genji knows what is going to happen; has even anticipated that the dragon might want to exert his dominance and explore his potential mate inside and out – but suddenly the thought rankles as he watches the ancient creature snuggle his head between his monk’s thighs and start dragging his long, forked tongue along the downy insides of his supple legs; leaving faintly glowing drool in its wake and making Zenyatta gasp.

It is just… different, now that he knows that the spirit is just as in love with Zenyatta as he. Or… has he been in love before him, even? Has the spirit seen Zenyatta and wanted him so badly that he made Genji fall in love, too?

It is a moot point. He couldn’t fight it now anyway – even if he wanted to. And the prince really, really doesn’t want to; not when Zenyatta is pressing against him, panting softly, his breath coming out in little clouds in the cool air surrounding them. He digs his heels into the soft soil, toes curling as he jerkily lifts his hips up and against the dragon’s tongue. His robe threatens to slip down again, but Genji is there; curling his fingers around the hem and pulling it up until Zenyatta’s cock springs free; sleek and long and bouncing in the air with how hard he already is.

He’s so easy; gets needy and squirmy at just a few expert touches – and the fact that the dragonspirit should have the privilege of tasting him now stokes a fire of jealousy in Genji’s veins. He is not used to sharing his things…

But share he must, as the dragon’s tongue unselfconsciously reaches for the pretty jut of the monk’s cock and dexterously curls around its length from base to tip with still enough length left to playfully tickle Zenyatta’s belly button and have him suck in air.

He’s very quiet in Genji’s arms, body hot like a little furnace as he trembles and lifts his hips again; slow and shivery, seemingly unsure what to do with everything; especially when the tongue uncurls again and starts messily licking at him, glowing spit dripping in thick strands onto the soil beneath them.

Zenyatta is nearly hairless; only a few tender dark hairs dusting the base of his cock that the spirit seems very interested in grooming until Zenyatta is gasping softly and his cock is flexing, the tip liberally wet with spit and pre-cum. 

Once, the long tongue curls around the monk’s round, hairless balls, and the sound he makes hits Genji deep. Deep enough that he curls his arms more securely around Zenyatta and starts nibbling at his ear; kissing at the point of his jaw – anything just to get a bit of attention from his young lover while he spreads his trembling thighs wider and invites the spirit to shuffle even closer, his mane tickling the monk’s legs until breathless little pearls of laughter get shaken out of him.

And then suddenly the mood swings; the nervous, crackling energy full of cautious amusement is charged with something darker, heavier, as the spirit starts nudging his thick, slippery tongue beneath Zenyatta’s balls – and Genji can’t see much from his angle, but Zenyatta keeps him updated nevertheless.

“He’s… ah… ah… he-he’s pushing innn–” Zenyatta reaches up and back, hand clamping on the back of Genji’s neck in a way he would never allow himself to do if he wasn’t being filled by the fat, soft tongue of a spirit beast. He pulls on Genji; urges him to bend lower so he can turn his head and smear his wet, plump lips against the prince’s cheek and ear.

“He’s f-filling meah–”

Zenyatta’s voice, usually gentle and deep and unhurried, cracks as the dragon shoves deeper, dexterous tongue moving and shoving and fucking him; and as Genji watches, he can see it move inside the monk’s guts, too; a moving, writhing bulge just beneath his belly button; making Zenyatta look heavier. Fuller. Pregnant.

The spirit chuffs, the energy he’s held back previously crackling back to life and zinging the tender insides of Zenyatta’s thighs whenever the soft, flowing whiskers touch his skin.

Zenyatta comes with a soft cry, his long body going taut, muscles trembling, heels digging deeper into the soil as his wet cock jerks in the air and ropes shoot out, hitting his thighs and belly – but also the snout of the dragon, whose large, dark eyes narrow in pleasure.

When the dragon pulls back, pulling his tongue out slowly, luxuriously, letting Genji witness just how much of it he’s stuffed into the monk – he looks more like a feline than a dragon. He looks smug; especially as he slowly, languidly starts licking at his muzzle.

And Genji still burns with hot jealousy; cock pulsing and needy, pressing into the small of Zenyatta’s back; wishing nothing more than to have him now beneath the spirit’s gaze. Have him cry like a harlot as he bends him in half and gives him what the spirit in his enormous size can not.

They stare at each other across Zenyatta’s shoulder, the monk still shivering and out of it; and whatever the spirit sees in the prince’s gaze – he lowers his head minimally in submission.