Hypnovember 2023
Prompts: 9.Lick, 24.Intoxicated, 27.Nectar 
For Sarcastickoopa
By Limewah
18+

Arno’s parties were always on another level. Whether they were at their penthouse apartment, or at a downtown club they rented for the whole night, it was always the sort of party that everyone wanted to go to. It was a little strange that all of this could be afforded by a racecar driver who was just slightly above average(though no one would tell them that to their face). 
There were rumours of Arno having a sugar daddy, or being from money to begin with; more power to them, either way. 
Parties like these were one of the only ways they splashed cash, as well; the black-furred poodle with the golden eyes and paws never really came off as one of those especially dick-ish rich guys. It made them pretty popular, someone worth chatting to at art exhibit launches or dance show premieres.

That was how Claire met Arno in the first place. A gym buddy of hers was a choreographer, and called in a favour to force Claire into giving her a hand. She put fliers in every single coffee shop and on every billboard, and had sent personalised emails to hundreds of tastemakers as a favour. And she certainly wasn't getting paid for the privilege. 
The hyena was trying to hide that frustration at the time behind a diplomatic smile, chafing slightly against the need to dress up for the occasion. It was good enough to catch Arno’s attention, it seemed… they approached her first, asking if she was the “producer”, which she wasn’t about to deny.
Arno invited her out to the smoking area of the theatre, and spent the whole night shooting the shit. They were down to earth, funny, and respectful - even if, as the night wore on and the drinks flowed, they did brush their paw against Claire’s on the table a few tentative times.
She didn’t mind.

And now, here she was, in a club with a double digit cover charge and a high class clientele, at the poodle's latest shindig. She’d been told she didn’t have to dress up - thank fuck. She was dress casual, wearing baggy waist-high shorts and a long-sleeve crop top; both of them jet black with a white stripe going down the sides. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, too. It was a sort of ‘just came from the gym’ look, one that was definitely turning heads. Some incredulous looks, some interested ones. 
The hyena enjoyed the attention. She was big and muscular enough that the skeezier looking guys, the polo-shirted douchebags, were a little too afraid to approach her. She got a drink of water to start; she knew how to pace herself. Honestly, the first thing she wanted to do was find Arno, let them know she was here. A little bit of eye contact would suffice if they were busy; Claire had the sense that they’d find her later.
Normally this place would be playing typical chart stuff; but judging from the eclectic mix, Arno must have given that green dragon free reign to play whatever she liked. And everyone seemed to be loving it.
This place almost seemed too good to be true, like Claire had stepped into some sort of strange paradise.
There was still no sign of Arno, though, no matter how much she strained her eyes or craned her neck. At least, not on this floor. There were two more to check - a basement generally reserved for a performance venue, and a sort of pent-house with one way mirrored windows nestled into the ceiling . She assumed that Arno would probably want a bird’s eye view of their party, to be lord of all they surveyed. So she made her way to the staircase. A large, pink-furred boar with a suit that was all shoulders blocked her path looking down at her from behind dark glasses. She put on a smile, and got nothing back; as expected from a bouncer.
“Name?” he asked her, holding a clipboard just in the periphery of his vision.
“I thought I already gave my name outside,” she said.
“This is a separate list, for a select group. Name?”
“Uhm…” there was no point in lying, she couldn’t see the list from where she was… “Claire Beaufort?”
Claire swore she could see his eyes gleam as they moved behind his sunglasses. He cracked a smile.
“Yep, you’re down. Go on ahead, Miss Beaufort.”
“Oh! Thank you!”  That was a nice surprise…

Claire made her way up the staircase of thick dark slats of wood, up to a substantial looking doorway, like what she imagined a palace bedroom door might look.. Another bouncer, this one a blue-furred lion who was just as swole as the last one, opened the door for her. She was surprised how quickly the thump of the music faded away to nothing behind her. The walls on the next floor were plushly upholstered, and as the door at the top of the staircase closed behind her, the sound vanished entirely, allowing an entirely different ambience to float into her ears. It was slower, cosier ambient music, the sound of strings plucked and stroked with a south-asian quality to them. It was hard to tell if it was coming from the speakers, or it was live.

There was a bar in the centre of the room, and cushions all around it - not a seat in sight. It took her a bit to spot Arno - in fact, they caught a glimpse of her first, and the glint of the gold pads on their paws drew her eyes towards them. 
“Claire! C’mon over!” They were dressed in a shimmering golden robe, as if they were the owner of the place - they practically were, to be fair. They were currently lounging in the coils of a svelte, banana-coloured naga, their free hand stroking her chin. “Join us!”

Everyone was lounging around her, and she stepped carefully and gingerly over them. The conversation was idle and quiet, and they mostly seemed to be drinking in the ambience more than anything else. It was strange, but pleasantly quiet. 
Once she trudged through the minefield of bodies, she sat cross legged on a nearby pillow, keeping a slight distance from the yellow-scaled stranger. 
“It’s okay, Diantha doesn’t mind if you lean on her.”
“Nn-nn…” the snake seemed to concur, slowly nodding her head as her tongue flitted out from her mouth. 
Claire would have politely protested, but a coil pushed under her butt and pulled her closer to the sweetly-scented poodle. There was something syrupy about the sweetness of the scent. Like fresh honey. It wasn’t really to her taste, but she wasn’t going to let that show. Not when they were smiling at her with such dazzling white teeth, contrasting with their shiny black coat of fur. She was too dazzled by Arno to show any awkwardness towards them.

“I was hoping you were going to come up…” Arno said. “I thought I might’ve scared you off.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t even know I was invited,” Claire said.
“Hmm.” The poodle frowned. “You should have gotten an invite… I’ll have to talk to Roman about that later. Never mind. Welcome! I prefer things a bit more low-key, and I got the sense you were too.”
They took a small bowl from nearby and offered it to her. It was full of little brown squares, sweetly scented. “Do you eat chocolate? Want some?”
“Oh, I’m kind of on a diet right now,” Claire said, even as she reached out and took one of them. It was hard to say no. “But sure!”
The truffle snapped open in her mouth, and a sweet, thick caramel texture flooded onto her tongue. It made her jump a little with surprise, that familiar alcohol taste spreading through her mouth.
“Oh, I forgot to mention there’s a bit of liqueur in there, hope that’s okay-”
“Mm! Mm-mm, no!” Claire chewed a little quicker than she would have liked too. “No, it’s delicious!”
“Right?” Arno grinned more widely, their golden claws still working along the naga’s neck and cheek. “There’s plenty more floating around. I’ve got a chocolatier friend, he always brings gifts like these. They’re full of my favourite stuff, too!”
“Is that so? It’s really sweet…”
“Yeah, it’s a honey rum liqueur. I could drink it all day… but that’d make it harder for me to fit into my jumpsuit!”
“Yeah, this stuff is dangerous,” Claire said, already taking another truffle and biting it open. Fuck it, she could treat herself.
“Yeah, forget your diet. Have as much as you like…” 
It was nice that Arno was giving her permission.
Claire looked at the centre of the candy, at the little pool of alcohol still inside it. It was incredibly thick, decadent… it had the consistency of the honey that flavoured it.
Claire knew she had to pace herself, but it was hard to resist playing with the bowl and popping another one into her mouth, both because of their taste, and because it gave her something to do with her hands as she giggled nervously through her conversation with the poodle. 

She felt like a schoolgirl again - what was with her?

…Were alcohol chocolates supposed to make you tipsy? There couldn’t have been that much in them, could there..?
As they talked, Arno kept idly scratching at the snake-girl’s chin, craning their head back to kiss her now and again when Claire was in the middle of a story.
“Keep talking,” they’d say, “I’m listening.”
Claire didn’t feel like they were being that rude… though she did feel a little jealous as she caught glimpses of that golden tongue exploring the snake’s mouth. 
It almost seemed to gleam, and it looked like there was a bit of gold trailing from the corner of the snake’s mouth when he pulled away, before the forked tongue lapped it away.
Maybe it was a trick of the light in that cosy, dark room.
It made Arno’s fur darker, their golden parts brighter, like beacons…

“Want a drink?” Arno asked. “Or are you still working on that water?”
“Uh, yeah, I could!” Claire said. She was normally a beer or wine person, she wondered what they had.
Arno snapped their fingers, and immediately to her right, a drink was pushed into her hand. It was a little fluted glass, one you’d serve an aperitif in. She recognised the liqueur for its colour and viscosity. 
“Go on…” Arno said. 
She raised it up. 
“Cheers, I guess,” she said, before bringing it to her lips.
She planned on just having a sip. But the next thing she knew, she’d upended the whole glass, the thick booze oozing down her throat. She hadn’t noticed how dry it was… and how much better it felt now with that sweet coating.

“I think it’s honestly better without the chocolate,” Arno said. “It’s less adulterated, you know?”
“Yeah, for sure-!”
When Claire looked at Arno and his serpentine date, they were curling her tail around their knuckles, their fingers rubbing somewhere underneath the base. She was gasping softly, her tongue flitting out as her gaze went unfocused…
Shit. She felt awkward now. Even more awkward than before. But she wasn’t going to tell them to stop… this seemed to be the vibe. 
As Claire tried to look away, she became aware that the others in this lounge were in various states of undress… and losing more clothes as they went. A gasp somewhere further away drew her eye to a robin spreading her legs wider as a calico pushed her face between them. Near that, a pair of ferrets were winding around each other, groping and frotting. 
Their eyes glinted distantly, like little gold coins catching a flashlight.
She turned back to Arno. Self consciousness invaded. She was sort of into it, more than she thought she’d be, but… She could probably excuse herself and sneak out…
“Uhm… hah, this might be a little much for me,” she said quickly. “I might head back downstairs…”
“Nonsense.” Arno said. There was a curious flatness to their tone of voice all of a sudden. They unwound their arms from the naga and reaching out for her. 
The reach towards her wasn’t desperate, but insistent enough to keep her from moving, and to allow them to pull her - 

-into a kiss. 
Arno’s tongue explored her mouth, lapping against hers like waves from one sea meeting another. It seemed like they’d been drinking more than she thought. Their breath and tongue tasted and smelled very sweet and boozy.
Holy shit, they tasted good.
They tasted like that liqueur, but stronger, that alcoholic taste flooding her throat and fumigating her head with intoxicating vapour. It made her fingers curl and her legs spread… her wrists were guided by Arno’s paws to rest on their body - one on their hip, the other on their shoulder. With each kiss, Arno poured another blob of nectar down her throat. Her eyes rolled up, and her head popped and tingled, and she forgot where she was, what was happening around her… her past and future were distant, the present moment with her tongue intertwined with the dog’s was all her mind could handle.

With a slick pop and a gasp, the poodle’s pulled free. Their nectar-drool still leaked from the corner of their mouth until their tongue lapped it up.
Claire stared at them, dazed. The dog split into three revolving shapes, and yet as Claire’s vision swam, Arno’s eyes, nose, and lips seemed to be perfectly still and clear in those swirling smears. 
“There we go. Do you feel that?” Arno said. “I know those chocolates are nice, but you deserve to have a drink from the source.”
“The source…?”
“Well, if you drink the fluids of a god of pleasure - blood, saliva, whatever you like - it tends to rewire your brain, and turn every little sensation into pure, unbridled bliss…”
The mouth came forward and kissed her again, and her world melted into smears of gold. Her body felt warm, especially her head and her crotch, and she groan-giggled as her self-preservation switched off.
“Everyone in this room has a bit of me in them,” Arno continued. “Everyone’s drunk on my nectar. Just. Like. You.”
Arno gave Claire’s face a long, slow lick, leaving a trail of that delicious honey all over her face. She licked at it frantically, wiping it onto her arms to get better access…
“Oh, good girl!” Arno giggled. “That’s the spirit. Here, have some more…”
Through the smears, she could see Arno’s fingers slip into their mouth. They came out sopping wet, dripping with gold, and they were guided towards her open, needy mouth. The gold paw pads played and spread, and her tongue spilled out from her mouth to lap at every inch. As she licked, her hips wriggled and writhed.

As she did, she could see Arno’s other hand was going into their mouth and being coated with more of that ambrosia. She couldn’t have more… if she did, she might completely black out… but she wanted it. Her whole body was crying out for it.
She gasped as the licked-clean fingers slipped from her mouth, and the first words to come out were a breathy plea.
“Please…. Arno…”
“Please what?” Arno pinched the tip of their tongue between their fingers to squeeze out just a little more of that addictive fluid. “Please stop, before you lose yourself? Or please keep going, so you can surrender yourself…”
Claire nodded frantically.
“Beg for it, in that case.” 
Arno was still kneeling with her, but it felt like they towered over her. Powerful, terrifying, and bewitchingly beautiful. If there was any doubt Arno was divine, that was all gone.
Arno had remained clothed this whole time - only now did they tug the tie and allow the robe to fall open.
Their cock was thick, even though it was half-flaccid, and it glistened, oozing and dribbling addictive pre-cum. It gleamed like the rest of them - maybe even more brightly. 
It was so glossy Claire could see the barest hint of her reflection. A slack jaw, and glowing gold eyes. Just like everyone else, she belonged to the canine god. It swayed back and forth with the roll of Arno’s hips, and she followed its pendulum sway as it throbbed. Again. And again. Growing until it was starting to point directly at her.
Arno’s nectar-covered hand raised up over her head, fingers splayed out as very thin streams of alcoholic pleasure dribbled down over her face. She craned her neck and opened her mouth. It hewed to their paw too closely to dribble into her mouth.
“I’m waiting,” Arno said, teeth bared in a possessive grin. “Beg.”
“Please, Arno,” Claire gasped, amazed by how full-throated her pleas were. Completely different from her normal personality. The usual persona she put on was falling away. The prospect of leaving herself behind was… exhilarating. 
“Please… give me more, I’ll do anything…”
“Don’t worry…” Arno said with a grin. “You will.”
Their fingers wiggled just enough to dislodge the nectar, and it poured down her face. She closed her eyes and opened wide, catching as much of it as she could. It suffocated her sense of self and drowned her determination. As her tongue lolled out to taste it, she felt something warm and firm press against it.
Claire closed her eyes and allowed Arno to push his cock in. Every bit of it tasted divine. It was turning her insides to gold and honey and sunlight. She couldn’t drink the nectar from their hand with her mouth full, but she felt Arno’s sticky paw travel across her head, matting her fur and making it feel stiff, like it’d been freshly dyed. It clung to her. Her mouth clung to their cock. They began to thrust into her mouth, and she gulped and groaned as it filled her throat. 
And with that, she slipped into a deep bacchanalian trance, a being of pure lust and need, eager to keep that taste in her mouth and her mind for the rest of her days.

“Everyone!” Arno called out, and the whole room went silent save for the sound of Claire’s grunts and suckles. Every single set of eyes turned to them, waiting and hanging on their God’s next word.
“You are all suitably buzzed by now, I hope? Starting to let the pulse, and the pump, and the ooze take hold? Come here. Each and one of you needs to be anointed…”
The music returned, more intense, more ritualistic and thick. It roused every heart and mind to take their place. The snake was first in the queue, and the others moved behind. They passed by Arno. 
Arno put a finger in their mouth, and then guided it to their worshipper’s- they lapped, they luxuriated, and then they put one last dollop on top of Claire’s head.
Claire played her part. Suckling dutifully, mind swimming with gold, as that sticky sensation spread further and further down her obedient body. 
“Just stay as you are, Claire,” Arno purred. “Once your initiation is done… you’ll get to drink your fill of everyone in this room. You can’t wait.”

I can’t wait was the only thought that spun through Claire’s head from then on, with each thrust, and each smear, deepening her love for her new God. 
By the end of the night, she was coated top to toe in Arno’s nectar. It would seep into every pore, every orifice, and bind her to them, forevermore.
One more desperately lovelorn hedonist to join their growing entourage, and grow their strength, until the whole world would know Arno’s blissful gift.