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Haroth patiently waited for his mate to paint his dark red fur with ivory runes. They extended along his arms and legs. Sweeping brush strokes underlined his shoulder blades, continuing along his back in the form of jagged stripes. With the ceremonial paint soaked into his fur, Haroth accepted the salamander tooth necklace and tied it around his neck while the mate helped him get into a tribal vest, fashioned from crocodile skin, the dark color contrasting with the white nuance of his neck, belly, and inner thighs.

He turned towards the entrance of the tent, only to be dragged back by his mate, who wove around his loincloth, a smug look on her face.

"Going to petitions without this?" she teased.

"I'm alpha. They've all seen me during the bloodnight ceremony."

"Don't take too much pride," the beige sergal said, thrusting a paw into his crotch, grabbing his plump sack, kneading it softly. "I've seen bigger."

"I've killed bigger as well. Size never won a fight." Haroth leaned into his mate's embrace, his tongue trailing along her jaw, up to that petite nose that he kissed every day. He did so now, eliciting a soft growl from his mate, who let go of his pouch so that she could hug him instead.

"In our case, no. But the same can't be said about the dragon living at the edge of our territory. He is--"

Haroth stretched his jaws to encompass the smaller muzzle of his mate, his teeth applying enough pressure to get his point across. She let go of him, fled back to their pile of furs to caress her bulging belly, throwing him the occasional glance while Haroth covered his privates behind a strap of brown leather hemmed with silver. Golden runes decorated its surface, shiny and pristine. Haroth found it amusing, that the crotch coverings of an alpha bore such garish looks, but tradition was tradition. Everybody questioned it at times, but nobody dared go against it.

Neither did Haroth, son of Hrathgar, alpha of the Thornridge tribe, the last remaining sergal tribe on their island. Without skirmishes to worry about or wars to send them off into the mountains, the Thornridge tribe had left the ridge that gave them their name and settled into the heart of the island, a plateau surrounded by lush wilderness, filled with game, berries and nuts.

Plentiful food and the lack of viable threats encouraged the sergals to switch to sturdier dwellings, built of stone and wood and mudbrick. Haroth needed but go outside and look around to see the clusters of sergals surrounding the dwellings they began to erect, hard at work at leaving a permanent print upon the land. It wasn't the way of the nomadic Thornridge tribe, but sometimes, tradition faltered before progress.

One just needed to glance at the Great Hall to glimpse their people's future, one where every sergal would inhabit a big, lavish house, just like the continentals sheltered behind tall walls in their stone cities.

Haroth headed towards the Great Hall as well, just like the rest of those who had concerns to address to their alpha. He spotted the line gathered outside the twin, Ebonwood doors of the great hall, the two tall, imposing guards keeping their spears crossed. As was custom, Haroth took the back entrance, his shaman advisor waiting in a tight, narrow hallway. He dipped his fingers into each of the tiny jars of oil tied around his waist, smearing Haroth's brow, palms and feet, stepping to the side to allow the alpha to take the throne situated at the very back of the Great Hall. Two hearths surrounded it, built of stone, the wood crackling and spitting fiery embers within them.

Haroth ascended the small slant leading to that fancy chair clad in fancy furs, his jaws tightening at the carvings hewn into the armrests and the backrest. Such decorations belonged in the continental city, not in his Great Hall, but Haroth remained silent and settled into his elevated seat all the same, looking over the room.

Two rows of tables spread on either side, filled with sergals who feasted in silence. Custom dictated that those who had no petitions to voice busied their mouths with food and drink. Today, a noticeable amount of seats stood vacant, the missing sergals adding to the generous line that awaited at the base of Haroth' makeshift dais.

He sighed and waved the first petitioner forward, a scrawny pup who clutched a tattered scroll in his hands. Haroth' eyes narrowed at the shattered sigil, bits of azure wax still clinging to the vellum.

"I found this near the Drywater--"

"No petition, no voice. Report your discovery to Galragar. Next."

He knew this sergal. Jven, a hulking beast bearing more scars than any sergal had the right to. Some of the villagers claimed he wrestled with bears, killed them using his claws alone. If that was true, then why did he never part with the huge battle axe strapped across his back?

"Grant us permission to slay the dragon." His raspy voice quieted down the murmuring crowd. The sergals seated at the table shifted away from him, gnawing on bones, sipping their wine, pretending not to listen, even though their perked ears betrayed them.

"Denied," Haroth said. "Next."

Jven remained at the front of the crowd. When the sergal behind him sought to take his place, he shoved him back with an overly thick arm, his blood red eyes fixated on Haroth. "No. I misheard. Repeat that you're in favor, alpha." He thumped a fist against his scarred breast, lips shuddering with the urge to snarl.

"I'm not in favor, Jven. Denied." Haroth growled this time around, loud enough for several armed sergals to break from the crowd and join Jven, flaunting their steel, so proud of their metal toothpicks. That was what swords, daggers, and axes were to the dragon. Toys, shinies to add to his hoard.

"See these braves?" He stretched his arms to the sides, as if to keep that pack of mangy sergals from jumping at Haroth' throat.

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of the alpha's mouth. He would have liked to see them try, especially during petitions. Blood had rained on the floor, tables, and pillars of the Great Hall in the past, and every sergal who died at the hands or blade of an alpha was to be fed to the wild beasts, a predator made into prey, the biggest disgrace of all.

"They don't look very brave to me. What sort of brave brings weapons to petitions?"

"The sort that doesn't need a lofty chair to support their spineless back."

The crowd quieted to a disturbing silence. Everybody had the right to speak their mind to their alpha or challenge him for that position. Jven seemed quite confident today, so Haroth pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his wrists, stretching his back.

"An infinite number of opportunities to issue a challenge, and you have to bring up the dragon to summon enough courage to address me."

"You refuse to act. You haven't grabbed a weapon in years. Probably forgotten how to swing one, too."

His braves snarled in agreement, stoking Jven's courage. "You're a coward, my alpha. Prey." He spat at Haroth's feet, the alpha retaining his stoic position in spite of the spittle slithering between his toes.

"Our tribe needs a warmonger. It needs to take what rightfully belongs to us. We own this land. We own its prey. The dragon you fear?" He pointed east, towards the lagoon where the dragon meandered around. "Prey with scales and a lavish mane that will make great stuffing for my pillow."

The braves laughed, banging their weapons together. Some of the other sergals began to either fret or nod their heads, the tension in the Great Hall slowly rising to a level not even Haroth would be able to control.

"Kill me first. Manage that, and maybe, just maybe, I will believe you."

"Hrarrr, you'll be too dead to believe in anything more than your failure, alpha." Jven wrenched a sword free from a brave's weak grasp and pointed it towards Haroth. "Grab it. Assuming you still remember which end fits your feeble paw."

Haroth seized the blade between two fingers and shoved it back, so hard he sent it pommel-first into Jven's throat. The sergal stumbled back, gasping for breath, his bloodshot eyes bearing into Haroth's.

"No need. I'll use your axe after you're done swinging it around." He got up, walking towards the challenger with slow, calculated steps, his calm demeanor forcing the crowd of sergals back. Jven recovered by now, stepping back, scanning his surrounding to make sure his axe wouldn't hit and get stuck in any of the Ebonwood columns supporting the roof of the Great Hall.

Once the distance between them lessened, Jven hurled himself at Haroth, shoulder-first, intending to use his impressive bulk to his advantage. The alpha had less than a second to react. Not enough to fully evade the charge, but sufficient to lessen its brunt by sidestepping, so that Jven hit his arm with all of his strength.

Haroth gritted his teeth, his shoulder almost dislocated, the pain so intense it made that arm numb. Jven also pivoted on his left and reached for his trusty battle axe, ripping it from its bindings, readying for a swing aimed at Haroth's head. Now that he sat upon the incline that led to the throne, the elevated ground emboldened him for a swing meant to decapitate Haroth. And it was fast! The great axe whooshed through the air with such speed it seemed unstoppable.

Not for Haroth, the alpha, who had seen Jven fight time and time again. He ducked under it, closed in the gap between them, slammed his fist into the side of Jven's jaws, and ripped the axe free from his hands during the short moment bought by his dazing attack. He planted its butt into Jven's vulnerable abdomen, elbowed his lower jaw with enough strength to dislocate it, then slammed the axe's shaft into his side, sending him on his back.

He only managed to thrust his arms halfway towards Haroth before the axe parted his head from body, sending it rolling down the slope.

"I'm your alpha. I know how you fight, I know how you think. That dragon that unnerves you is the only reason we have a Great Hall, the only reason this island is ours, and no one else's. One day, he might get bored and bring down destruction upon our village, but we won't be able to stop him, not more than we are able to slay him by strolling into his territory."

Haroth threw the axe at the feet of the braves, signaling them to carry Jven's corpse away as he settled back into his chair.

"Everybody who has a petition concerning the dragon should leave. The rest, I'll hear."

Three quarters of the sergals fled, their heads held low, their shoulders slumped. They must have considered their alpha a disappointment, a coward, and Haroth had no intention of slaying more of his subjects. Even the hot-headed ones served their purpose, each second spent idle stoking their belief that their alpha failed to serve their best interest.

"Wait. I said wait!" His roar froze the fleeing sergals in their tracks. Heads shifted towards him, infinite pairs of eyes regarding him with sullen respect. "We don't fear the dragon, do we?"

They nodded, but nobody dared to speak.

"Do we?"

"Aye," a few murmured whispers wafted through the Great Hall.

"That's right. What troubles us is the unknown, and we don't know much about this dragon. He may be an ally. He may be the enemy of our past enemies. Or he may keep us around like humans keep cattle in their pens, biding his time until he decides it's time to slaughter us all."

The truth disturbed many a sergal. Some got up, pushing back their seats under their table, scowling at Haroth. Others reached for concealed daggers, appalled that their very alpha implied they, the greatest predators of the land, were prey.

Haroth analyzed the crowd, took a deep breath, and said the thing they all yearned to hear. "I'll go meet him. Me and the braves. If he is indeed an ally, a protector, we'll do what we can to keep his benevolence. If he harbors ill intent towards our tribe, I'll return with his head. I, Haroth, alpha, will do this for my people."

He left the Great Hall surrounded by the six braves, among cheers and loud banging and growls and howls. Even workers paused to gape at the party of seven that headed down Vision road, taking the exit that led towards the Silentwind Cove. Although the braves didn't speak, Haroth noticed their tightly sealed jaws, their wandering eyes, the steadfast clutch on the handles of their weapons.

"You won't need those. Pile them up at the base of that tree."

"Alpha, you said it yourself that--"

"What I said then is in the past. What I say now is in the present. Do what I say, or head back into the village and be called a craven for the rest of your life."

They all followed Haroth's instructions, piling their weapons above the roots of an oak, tension visible upon their stiff postures. Bringing melee weapons to an encounter with a dragon didn't make them brave. More like stupid and ignorant. Negotiations implied diplomacy, not brunt force, which the dragon had plenty. So why not best him with words?

Haroth's entourage begged to differ. They grumbled to themselves, deciding to keep the sheaths and straps that used to house their weapons tied to their body, unwilling to part with them. Telling them how ridiculous they looked seemed too much of a stretch, so Haroth decided to soothe the building tension by getting to know them better.

"Fall in behind me. I'll want to speak to each of you in turns. That understood?"

Their silence provided an eloquent answer, so Haroth signaled one of the braves forward, a brute with gaunt features, dark, mangy fur and stern, vermilion eyes.

"Name, craft, opinion regarding our task," Haroth said.

"Neregrin, combatant, no opinion. Is not a combatant's choice to lead, but to follow, and I follow...for now." His voice was rough, just like the belt he used to fasten his tattered leather breeches around his waist. Like any combatant, he only covered his loins, muscles rippling under the ashen fur covering his well-developed abdomen.

"You're a good and reliable combatant, Neregrin. It's good to have you by my side. Fall behind a few steps."

The next brave had a lanky body, a strap of leather running diagonally across his chest, the gaps in it hinting that he was a dagger thrower.

"Galvangar, tracker, an opinion so foul you wouldn't want to hear it."

An honest and tactful fellow, one that Haroth could certainly work with.

The next sergals were Mandyr, an overqualified cook who used to be a keen archer in his youth, boasting a lush, dark mane with streaks of white that emphasized his old age, more so than his blunt toe claws. Pordorax, a navy colored sergal with a cerulean chest, had a sharp muzzle and even sharper wits, more interested in sharing riddles with the dragon than slaying him. His companions, of course, couldn't know that, as his lightning-fast reflexes made him into a renowned peacekeeper, a more eloquent term for the now redundant assassin rank.

The remaining two sergals, a brown, hulking monstrosity and a tawny, light-hearted and fretful youth, gave Haroth pause. The former struck the alpha as the troublemaker type, the berserker who would charge a too strong opponent head-first, while the latter joined the group for renown's sake, hoping that the dragonslayer title would get him a worthy mate. Depending on how the dragon would respond to their presence, either of the two could do something very, very stupid.

A breeze sailed past the alpha and his six braves, carrying the briny scent of the ocean upon it. The forest thinned ahead, the ground slanting to meet the rough sand of the wide, western serene shores of their island. Each of Haroth's steps carried him closer to the dragon's domain, in tow with six sergals that he didn't know nor trust enough to keep the peace.

He lifted a hand to halt their advance, spinning on his heels to face them. "Go back. Sit by the oak where you left your weapons. Should I fail to return before sunset, you have my blessing to rally the whole village against the dragon, or try to slay him yourselves. A dead alpha can't give you orders."

Pordorax snarled at the notion. The youth looked left and right, uncertain of which attitude to adopt. Mandyr and Galvangar snarled their skepticism at Haroth's request, while Neregrin crossed his arms over his burly chest, impassive as ever.

"Do what your alpha commands." Haroth spoke slowly, growling with every word. "Otherwise, challenge me, and add the weight of the alpha rank to your opinion."

Neregrin turned around, bushy tail swaying back and forth. The other sergals took his cue, today's brawl in the Great Hall keeping them in line, just like Haroth expected.

Good. He loathed unnecessary bloodshed, as much as he disliked negotiating with other parties present. Treating with the dragon should have been the alpha's privilege, not a chance for glory to those desperate enough to resort to such crude measures of conquering their land. Besides, Haroth's wit earned him the rank of Alpha, the sharpness of his mind more effective than any blade in existence.

Confident that his numerous dealings with his people gave him the upper edge, Haroth continued his trek. The hard-packed trail gave way to rough sand that shifted under Haroth's coarse paw pads, the sounds of the waves lapping at the shore keeping him on edge. They masked any sound that might give away the dragon's presence, and the stale, salty scent stung his nostrils, reminding him why he seldom visited the western coast of the island.

The few spotters who had glimpsed the dragon's resplendent hide mentioned that he preferred to lurk around lagoons and coves, their small, narrow entrances making them an ideal place to stash his precious items. As tales went, each dragon enjoyed hoarding shinies, but Haroth had never read about a dragon who kept his stash of goods in plain sight. Perhaps the one inhabiting their island was careless.

Or maybe he had known, all along, that the sergals never posed a threat to his existence.

That thought made Haroth's tail stiffen. He walked along the shoreline, resisting the urge to break into a sprint, in case he needed to flee.

He's a dragon. Dragons have wings. Nobody can run away from one, not even an alpha, Haroth realized, breaking into a dash. He only had a few hours until sundown. Each second mattered, and the clifftops of the northwestern banks weren't anywhere in sight.

As the beach thinned and the cliffs gained height, Haroth's heart began to pound in his chest. Past that bend ahead lied Silentwind Cove, one of the dragon's favorites. To access it, he had to swim around a jagged cliff that blocked the access to the crescent-shaped cove, until the narrow stretch of beach came in sight.

And to the far left, the dragon, sprawled on his side, a hind paw pointing towards the sky to allow the sun's rays to fall on the shimmering, light blue scales lining his belly. He must have swum recently, for his fiery-golden mane was soggy and disheveled, sand clinging to the luxurious strands of hair splayed over the ground.

Haroth had heard of the dragon's impressive size, but even from a distance, he seemed colossal compared to a sergal. His sleek, serpentine body had a lithe build, with thin haunches heavy with muscle hidden beneath a layer of matte scales that resembled the color of blueberries. That deep, rich blue faded into a lighter shade along his limbs, darkening towards his feet, each equipped with four sturdy toes that ended with short, dark, but very sharp claws. His head bore a soft, angular shape, equipped with a slim muzzle, its top dark, its lower parts faded to white, the same color present on the inner side of his neck. A set of two dark blue horns, slightly curved, sprouted from the back of his skull, and his long ears thinned to a pointy tip, shifting ever so softly, just like his dazzling tail. The fine scales covering it boasted a mixture of every color present on his body, starting from soft, violet hues at the base, acquiring shades of orange towards the middle, and turning white towards the tapered tip, the transition in color smooth, elegant, striking really. Three expressive ivory-tinted horn-spikes protruded from his fiery-golden mane, shorter and thinner compared to his horns, but sharp enough to give his neck an extra layer of protection from the bite of a bigger predator.

Haroth snorted idly at that notion. There was no bigger predator on this island aside from him, lying in that uncharacteristic, almost comical position for such a fierce creature. Even when the alpha's toes found purchase upon the sea bed, the dragon's eyes remained conspicuously closed, as if he was oblivious to the arrival of his visitor.

Haroth continued his advance. He slapped the water's surface, coughed softly, wove his arms around to splash water in all directions, trying to coax a reaction out of the dragon.

Nothing.

He opened his mouth hesitantly, ready to say something, but closed it as a wave rocked his frame, reminding him that of his treacherous location. Better to get onto the shore first, maybe move to the opposite end of the narrow strip of land, so that the dragon didn't feel like he intruded. While he tiptoed towards his destination, Haroth made certain to glance at the dragon every now and then. His belly raised and fell in unison with his breath, and his nostrils shuddered, conforming Haroth's suspicions that the dragon's senses failed to detect his presence. He--for the plump sack heavy with fruit revealed his gender in quite the lewd fashion--appeared to be dreaming, a vulnerable position for such a majestic being to find itself in.

"Where are you going?" His rich voice came, freezing Haroth in his tracks.

The sergal whirled around, his posture stiff, his tail tucked between his legs at being caught unawares by a being whose golden eyes shone with brilliant radiance.

How did--how did he even...

The dragon turned his neck to regard him, retaining his position, not even bothering to conceal his privates from view. His yawn revealed rows of sharpened teeth, too numerous for Haroth to count, and his limbs trembled, all of his toes stretching and curling inwards as the dragon raised a wing to block the sun from blinding him.

His gender, naturally, remained in plain sight, either teasing or taunting Haroth. With jewels that size, resting on the sand like melons wrapped in a soft canvas, the dragon must've picked up some bad habits, flaunting them around at any given opportunity by the looks of it.

"Nowhere in particular. Came to see you." Haroth wrestled with the apprehension churning within his stomach, with that cold fear nudging at his spine with its cold fingers. He might have been an alpha among the sergals, but rank mattered little while staring into the fiery eyes of a winged predator who could destroy a village on a whim.

"And? Have you seen enough? Or should I turn around? I can give you a tour of my body if you'd like. It's an awfully long walk for your kind, with your upright bodies and your two legs. If you came to see, then you might as well feast your eyes on...well, everything!"

Haroth was at a loss of words. He had prepared to treat with a dragon; a shrewd, stern creature, one whose mere sight inspired terror. This dragon, however, spoke with a soft, gleeful voice, his pose totally unfit for what Haroth had in mind.

He shook his head, as if to dispel his biased thoughts, and said. "You misinterpret my intention. I came to see you in order to discuss your intentions concerning my village."

"Oh, so it is you!" The dragon flipped on his belly, tucking his hind paws tight against his side, craning his neck forward, ebony slits narrowing within those blazing pools. "Mistook your fur for black, given that you're soaked, but there are some dark red hues in there. Horath? Hrothgar? Heroth?" He pressed a wing claw to his snout, his eyes narrowed as if in deep thought.

"Haroth," the alpha said it for him, and Teryx released a sudden, mellow growl.

"Yes. Haroth. Definitely. Became alpha twelve years ago. I knew that, but somehow, your name slipped me. That is an awfully long time to keep your people placid. I imagine they come up with ways to slay me as we speak."

A trace of bitterness crept into the dragon's tone. Some of his playfulness vanished, his features turning hard, feral almost.

"They're not a threat to you. At least not until they become a threat to me, which is not happening anytime soon."

The dragon snorted in derision. "Of course not. I wouldn't dare challenge the only sergal in the village who has a golden crotch."

Haroth looked at the dragon askance, failing to grasp the meaning of his words, so he pointed a single talon at his loin coverings.

"What do the runes say? That you're the most endowed among your kin?"

The alpha gritted his teeth, torn between chuckling and growling. Who was this perverted dragon who mocked the culture of his tribe?

"It is ancient script. The ideals of our people, passed from generation to generation."

The dragon cocked his head. "And they are written on a strap of leather that conveniently covers your privates."

"They have to be visible, to remind every sergal that I, Haroth, am alpha," he said, puzzled by the dragon's behavior.

"And I, Teryx, savior of the very people who plot to slay me, find that amusing for a number of reasons, for which I apologize profusely if it offends you."

So the legends were true. Teryx, the very dragon sitting in front of Haroth, had a key role to play in the evolution of his village.

"Why not come join us?"

"Why don't you join me?" Teryx countered, bringing his tail around his side. "I haven't killed any sergal. Haven't harmed one of you. I may have strongly influenced some of your attractive males to indulge into harmless frolic, but I assure you that they have enjoyed themselves as much as I have."

"I don't understand," Haroth confessed, and Teryx sighed.

"No. Not at first. Not without a little help that will allow you to tap into your full potential Haroth, alpha of your people."

The dragon got up, towering above Haroth even from a distance. His wings rustled against his brilliant flanks, and strands of dust flowed down his scales as he shook his body gently. Then, he fixated Haroth with his mesmerizing gaze, dangerous yet alluring.

"You are intrigued by me. Admit it."

Haroth opened his mouth, his jaw hanging limp. He didn't know what to say, what to think of Teryx. He came across like a friendly, compassionate being, maybe more than a bit perverted. That clashed with Haroth's first impressions of him, and the chasm between his divergent opinions seemed to grow.

"You have waited for this moment. Perhaps...yearned for it," Teryx continued with his rich, mellow voice, the words themselves flowing like honey past his majestic jaws.

"Let's dampen that anxiety of yours a little bit, and amplify that budding curiosity."

Haroth shut his mouth, narrowing his eyes. The dragon spoke with such passion, his conviction getting under the alpha's pelt. Although he seemed dangerous at first glance, Teryx showed no intention to harm him. On the contrary, he seemed equally interested in him, a sergal, one that could not hope to match his elevated status.

"Oh, come on, don't doubt yourself. You're an alpha to your people, a leader, and leaders are supposed to take risks. Let's muffle that doubt," Teryx said, settling onto his haunches, flicking his paw around as if it could simply wash away Haroth's reservation. "It's a redundant feeling, one that you don't need. What you should be--what you are now--is inquisitive, excited by the prospect of meeting the dragon everybody talks about. It's a grand opportunity, to stand before me, to approach me at your leisure, so that, eventually, your curiosity blooms into fascination."

Haroth's gut instinct resonated with Teryx' words. The nagging doubt at the back of his head fled like dark clouds, letting in sudden eagerness to flood Haroth's senses. His thoughts clashed at first, but something--some sort of presence that Haroth couldn't account for--swept them off, instilling the very things the dragon said into his mind.

The alpha blinked several times, as if to dispel his flawed thoughts on the dragon, and see him with new eyes. Yes. Teryx had it right. Fighting his desire to approach the dragon was a most irrational thing, especially when he wove a blue paw at him, ready to receive him. It was a greeting. An offer of friendship. Refusal to reciprocate it meant disrespecting the dragon, a notion that chilled Haroth to the bone.

He practically scrambled forward, rushing to receive that oversized paw, each toe almost as thick and long as his palm. The alpha clutched it, peering into the dragon's eyes, his knees trembling with the urge to kneel before such imposing being.

"No no, don't do that, heavens forbid it. You're not my subject, you're my friend, yes?"

The dragon removed his paw from Haroth's grasp and ran it across his back, the smooth texture of his azure colored pads, along with the warmth they oozed, undoing the knots within Haroth's muscles. His slow strokes stirred a deep feeling of loyalty within the alpha's breast, one quick glimpse of the dragon's flaming eyes confirming that they were, indeed, friends.

"See how well we get along? It's always a pleasure to meet sergals like you, who keep an open mind to the possibilities. All it takes is a subtle nudge for your thoughts to soar in the right direction, because deep down, you know they are right; that whatever prejudice flies around your village is mere gossip, meant to keep the young ones indoors at night."

"We don't keep the young ones inside during the night. Us sergals are the greatest predators on this island."

"Second greatest," Teryx corrected, making Haroth gulp down the little moisture that dwelled within his mouth. "Your island is part of my territory. I may not spend all my time here, but that still makes me your benevolent friend and neighbor, yes?"

He nudged Haroth's arm, pushing himself up, walking a few steps towards the patch of shadow the cliff cast upon the edge of the crescent shaped bank. His paws left noticeable prints in the sand, shaped after his four toes, the gashes of his claws deep enough to allow water to surface into some of the holes.

"Follow me. Noon's heat must be unbearable to a fluffy one such as you."

That said, Teryx lounged in the shade, stretching on his side, one hind leg pulled slightly to the side to make room for his male bits. Haroth's cheeks began to swelter the longer he stared at his plump sack, the round shape of the eggs nestled within, coupled with their smooth and soft appearance, making his fuzzy sheath tingle.

His head swerved to the side when Teryx caught him in the act, the dragon letting out a rumbling chuckle. "Don't be so tense, Haroth. You're allowed to look. Unlike your bipedal kind, I do not bother covering my gender, and neither should you."

"We have to. It is..." Haroth wanted to say improper, but the same presence from before guided his thoughts towards a better, more elegant choice of words. "It is tradition."

Pride swelled within him at handling the situation with such delicacy. He didn't want to offend the dragon, not after he invited him into his cove.

"I won't argue against tradition, but I am going to ask you to take off your coverings. We are mutually curious about each other's bodies. You haven't met a dragon before, and you're the first alpha to visit me. So, before we get to know each other better, I propose we indulge our burning interest in each other."

Teryx curled his neck to face Haroth, draping a wing over his side to cover the rest. "You go first, and start with the head. You sergals have such...mrr...flexible hands, and you're probably beaming at the opportunity to pet a dragon."

Haroth practically stumbled from the raw surge of lust that rammed against his being. His sheath turned taut from the sudden burst of desire, tapered tip peeking out, his orbs shuddering within their confines. It felt surreal, alien almost, and the only thing that kept Haroth rooted on the spot was the dragon's forepaw covering his snout, the faint rumbling laughter he desperately tried to contain.

He was convinced that the dragon did something to him. His self-control wouldn't just snap, to the point where he embarrassed himself like that.

Then again, he knew too little of Teryx to bring these accusations before him. And maybe, just maybe, his excitement got the better of him. He must have stared at his ripe apples for too long, the dragon's openness so alluring in its exotic way.

Yes. That had to be it. Being the first intelligent creature Haroth had the opportunity to meet, the dragon took him aback by displaying his genitals to him. When he made the request to pet him, the alpha's mind, in the heat of the moment, raced to a lewd thought. That must have triggered that baffling reaction.

It took all of Haroth's willpower to bring himself to face the dragon. To walk towards him and extend his hands to receive his snout. Those golden orbs seemed to peer into his very soul, the alpha's private thoughts laid out before Teryx' unwavering will.

Or maybe he just imagined things, for as soon as his hands slid along Teryx' smooth, angular jaw, his purr flared to life, the dragon making his enjoyment known with the help of that deep, satisfying sound.

A thin, weak smile prodded at Haroth's muzzle, the alpha uncertain of what to say to this. His people had spent decades fearing Teryx, when all it took was for an alpha to literally walk to the dragon and simply befriend him.

"Mmmm, that feels good," Teryx hummed, leaning his head forward into Haroth's embrace, rubbing his nose tip against the thick, tangled fur of the sergal's chest. "Have you ever wondered why somebody else's touch feels better than your own?"

"Sometimes. My mate, Karzjasha, knows where to touch, how to touch."

Teryx cracked an eye open, holding his breath for a short, tension-filled moment. Haroth paused as well, wondering whether the dragon wanted him to caress the rest of his body or just stop here.

"No, don't stop," Teryx urged, nuzzling Haroth's hand, poking the tip of his tongue against the sergal's callused palm. "I knew that you had a mate. I just wasn't certain if you prefer the company of males as well."

"You're a male, yet I find myself drawn into your schemes, dragon."

Teryx chuckled, curling his head back, offering Haroth a paw instead. The sergal grabbed it, kneading at the long, slim digits, running his finger pads up and down along the dragon's foot while his thumbs stroke the scaled, upper surface of the paw. He felt at ease in the dragon's presence, confident enough to add color into his words by mixing in the occasional taunt or jape, as was custom between friends.

"I wish all sergals shared your mindset."

Haroth looked up at the dragon, shifting his grip towards the edge of his toes, so that he could run a finger along a pristine, black claw. Its tip was sharper than he expected from a dragon his size, able to draw blood from a softer hand.

"Some do, and there are more who join their rank every passing day. Why shut yourself from the various forms of pleasure the world has to offer? Alpha like me doesn't get to become an elder, so I want to sample everything that is within my reach."

In this case, Teryx' mane or ears. The dragon lowered his head suggestively, his ears flicking, his playful gaze daring him into running his hand through that neat, silky mane.

"Hrar," Haroth growled in amusement. "If sergals had mane like yours, we'd have harem, not single mates."

"Then maybe I should fly into your village and become their new idol."

"Is mistake," Haroth rushed his words, cold dread dispersing through his frame. "Many sergals--they fear not you, but your intent. They don't know whether you wish to side with them, or enslave them when the right time comes."

Teryx drew his head back, arching his neck. "What? Do they actually believe I'm a tyrant?"

Haroth shrugged his shoulders. "They don't know what to believe. Is why they spy on you, afraid to approach you."

"You have to change that. As the alpha, you have a high degree of authority over them. Go to them, tell them you're my ambassador, and whoever has doubts concerning my motives can very well voice them. I'll even wait them outside the village, so that they don't tire their soft little paws."

Haroth smiled at how frustrated Teryx grew with this matter. "Come here. I'll rub the negative emotions out of you."

"You better," the dragon muttered, extending a wing towards the alpha. "You're not worthy of touching my mane and ears yet, so you'll have to do with a wing."

Wing sufficed, so long as it made Teryx happy. Solitude made him eager for physical interaction, and Haroth was happy to comply, if only to listen to that pleasant humming sound of his. He wanted to ask the dragon about a possible mate, but he ultimately decided against it, unwilling to ruin this special moment with an untimely question.

Besides, for some selfish reason, Haroth wanted the dragon to himself. Tingles raced up his spine as he stood before one of those enormous wings. Soft, leathery membrane, bearing a light shade of blue, stretched along the dark tinted frame of the wing, pulsating with warmth, a live, tender webbing that was able to withstand the fiercest of winds. It twitched and shook under his fingers, overly sensitive to the touch, the dragon growling and hissing and snickering.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he buffeted the teasing sergal away, asking him to massage the muscles where his wings fused with his body. A favorite of his, by the sound of his rich, meandering purr, the scales there soft and pebbly to the touch.

"Mrarrrrr, you certainly have a way with your hands," the dragon mused out loud, his flesh peeking out of the shelter tucked between the dragon's hind legs. "Keep going. If you stop, I'll bite your tail off."

A soothing presence touched Haroth's mind, familiar yet vastly different at the same time. He felt his blood run hotter, his jaws clenching tighter, his toes dipping into the sand, tail rocking back and forth as a myriad of thoughts flooded his mind, all of them pertaining to the possibilities of pleasuring the dragon.

Haroth wanted to dismiss this ridiculous notion at first. It seemed outlandish, to give pleasure to a colossal being that he had just met moments ago. And still, the more he rubbed at the base of the dragon's wing, the bigger his member grew, the wild throbs rippling through that thick appendage hinting at Teryx' desire for companionship.

The alpha rational side battled with his lust addled senses. His heart began to beat with pounding determination, and his nostrils filtered the dragon's sharp musk from the briny scent of the sea, breathing in that potent, exotic fragrance that made the fur along his spine rise for a fleeting moment. It invigorated him, stoked his conviction, turned his muscles taut with purpose.

And yet, something held him back. Perhaps it was the dragon's girth, ever growing, his tightening meat lustrous thanks to the film of arousal blanketing its smooth surface. Its sleek, crimson surface had a smooth appearance, the veins too subtle to be noticeable, unlike the sergal's own manhood. Ridges underlined the underside of the dragon's cock, growing more discernable with every pulsating motion that spurred his impressive tool to enlarge to its maximum width, the soft flare on his tapered tip thickening enough for the alpha to notice it.

On a dragon, it looked like an ordinary cock. Compared to Haroth's size, it was absolutely huge, longer than one of the sergal's legs and just as thick. What was he supposed to do to it? Stroke it with his petite hands? And would the dragon even extract pleasure from it, or laugh at Haroth's futile efforts throughout the whole act?

No. This was a bad idea, stemming from the alpha's helpless altruism. No matter how lonely Teryx felt, the gap between their two species was too wide, and the dragon's erection proved it.

"You stopped. I told you not to stop."

Teryx' words snapped Haroth back to his senses. He resumed the kneading motion upon the base of the dragon's wing, but Teryx shook it free of Haroth's grip, rolling on his back, pointing his snout at a haunch splayed along the ground.

"You did good. Give me some belly rubs, would you? And disregard my obvious excitement. That tends to happen at times."

From the way he spoke with such slow and elaborate words, he might as well requested that Haroth touched him down there.

"But first, remove your vest and loin coverings. You've seen me, after all, so it's my turn to see you."

Sudden confidence bloomed within Haroth, pushing aside his reluctance to do so, guiding his fingers around the straps of his vest and waist coverings. It felt odd, surreal even, to undress on a whim, but also inexplicably right. It was only the two of them, surrounded by tall cliffs, with not a soul in sight. If Teryx wanted to gauge his bare body, then why not give him this small satisfaction?

Haroth flinched under the dragon's hungry gaze. It moved across his body, summoning warm tingles in its wake, making his sack shudder, his sheath to tighten, his member to stir to life from the way his tongue flicked out of his muzzle. He curled his tail around a haunch, the dark, bushy tip covering half of his wan privates, not enough to break the dragon's concentration.

"Should I approach you so that--"

"No," the dragon interrupted, swinging his head to the other side. "You still have the belly, at least a haunch, and the tail to explore. Don't let me stop you."

He conveniently forgot to mention that huge erection, pointing towards the sky like a perverse flagpole. Given the size of Teryx' body, Haroth didn't even have to kneel. His belly stood at waist level, an ocean of fine, cerulean scales interlocked with uncanny perfection. Haroth ran a hand over them, feeling their soft texture, along with the shudders rippling beneath them. A second hand made the dragon's hum rise a pitch higher, while slow, repeated circular strokes seemed to stoke his lust enough to keep his member rigid.

The longer Haroth caressed the dragon's belly, the brighter his lust burned, a perverse urge beginning to nudge at his thoughts.

Touch his balls. Cup them in his palms. Stroke them, fondle them, perhaps even...taste them.

Yes. He wanted that. Needed that. Yearned for it, so bad his mind turned blank to all the other useless feelings that held him back. This was a one in a lifetime opportunity for him, the alpha, to show Teryx the hospitality of his people. He felt confident, ecstatic, inspired by the dragon's laid back attitude. That was how a leader had to be, how Haroth had to behave around such fascinating creature.

To do that, he first had to embrace the feelings that flowed rampant through him and channel them towards accomplishing his goal, that of surprising his new friend in the most pleasant and unexpected of ways.

Haroth ceased his ministrations, walking around a haunch, searching for a proper footing to reach those imposing apples. Clambering on top of the dragon seemed ungainly at best, but the harder he tried to come up with a plan, the less likely it seemed.

His indecision forced Teryx to flip onto his side, acquiring the same position Haroth had found him in, his balls dangling to the side, his erection almost slapping against his belly due to the soft throbs running through it.

"Taking your sweet time, are you? It's as if you have trouble deciding your next course of action, even when they're staring you right in the face."

A pang of panic shot through Haroth. He felt foolish at being caught, so he pointed an uncertain finger at Teryx' pouch. "What about these? Can I--"

"Be my guest. Inquisitive minds just got to know, yes?"

With that, he slumped back on the sand, waiting--no, anticipating--this moment. He also seemed unusually tense, his toes flexing, his tail tip shifting restlessly, so Haroth set his gaze on more favorable prospects.

Careful not to give away his intention by touching the dragon's scales, Haroth crouched before Teryx' tailhole, a small, ruddy patch of tight flesh bearing the shape of a slit, swollen around the middle. He rested his hands on the ground, sitting on all fours, so that he could stretch his neck forward, dark nose inching towards that patch of vulnerable flesh, without scales to cover it.

Strong scents emanated from it, daunting yet pleasantly exotic, laced with the sharp tint of draconic musk Haroth had smelled earlier. The concoction of various aromas dared him forward, until his black nose connected with Teryx' warm flesh.

An electrifying jolt traversed the dragon's body. His tail coiled around his side, and his haunches spread further apart, inviting Haroth to spoil this gorgeous creature.

That was what he did. Without waiting a second more, he rolled his tongue along the tight, puckered flesh, coating it with a layer of saliva, the extra moisture coaxing lewd, softening growls from the dragon. His tailhole shuddered and tightened, as if torn between relaxing or repelling the sergal's slurping tongue. This sort of indecision never failed to warm Haroth's heart. He had his ways with his tongue, true enough, but he had never expected Teryx, a dragon, to respond to his treatment in such squirming, adorable way.

His instincts urged him to probe deeper, to show Teryx that there was pleasure to be found within his sensitive tailhole, but the alpha restrained himself. Too much, too fast might put him off, and for now, he simply wanted to help the dragon relax by running his smooth, long canine tongue along the uneven surface of his tailhole. He basked the soft, wrinkled portion of shuddering flesh with moist warmth, lapping at it with gusto, increasing the frequency of his strokes the more the dragon's frame loosened.

His erratic breathing signaled the alpha that, for the time being, he did enough. Haroth pulled back, rolling his tongue along his lips, his limbs tense, his cock rigid. Lost in the moment, he just now noticed that the pleasure the dragon felt reflected upon his body as well, his musky taste enough to trigger the sergal's erection.

Still riding the rush brought by tasting such a fierce, majestic being, Haroth shifted his attention to the dragon's orbs. They resembled melons compared to his two furred nuts, big and satisfying, encased in a layer of soft, light colored skin, so receptive the eggs nestled within squirmed upon contact.

"Mraah!" Teryx growled, curling his elegant neck inwards to peer at Haroth. "You're full of surprises, little sergal."

"And you've got quite the pair of boulders, dragon," he said, lifting one in his palm while throwing him a cocky glance. "They seem so soft, so vulnerable to the touch." He emphasized that by secluding one of the spheres into his left palm and rolling his fingers along its surface. "Just make sure never to waggle them in front of your enemies. They might get ideas."

"Mrr, it's good that you're my friend. You wouldn't want to exploit a dragon's vulnerability now, would you?"

"There are multiple ways in which I can exploit this weakness of yours, and my instincts tell that you'll enjoy it."

Haroth shifted onto his knees, sitting to the side of the dragon's plump sack, both of his hands twitching with eagerness to stroke those light blue spheres. In his relaxed state, the dragon's testicles dangled loose in their cerulean pouch, shadowed by the impressive erection he sported. Teryx' balls were plump and rounded, larger than any sack Haroth had ever touched. To help get him prepared for what was to come, Haroth kneaded along one of his splayed thighs. His balls shifted and bobbled with the movement, the ridges growing more prominent thanks to the tingles of pleasure seeping through his muscles.

"Still, aren't you nervous that you have your balls at my mercy?" Haroth flicked his tail along the ground, circling a single digit around one of the dragon's testicles. More throbs rushed through his member. Haroth smirked, tracing his padded finger around the other jewel. "We barely know each other, yet for some reason, everything I do feels right to me. As if...I'm guided towards fulfilling my desires."

"Mrrrhhh..." Teryx' reply was a muffled groan. He splayed his ears back, thoroughly enjoying the attention he was getting. "If it feels right, it is right. Keep going. You will discover that there is great pleasure to be found in sharing."

Haroth smiled as he felt him shudder under his palms. He shifted his grip, isolating a single plump testicle. He gently rolled it between finger and thumb, watching it slide around inside the light blue sack. Teryx' maleness continued to throb, the constant movements nagging at Haroth's mind, begging him to indulge his curiosity. He released his jewel to let it drop back into place, then rubbed a finger along one of the taut ridges lining the base of the dragon's cock. Teryx gasped and fluttered a wing, his toes splaying.

"Mhrrrrrhhh!"

Haroth grinned, hooking a hand under his girth so that he could run his palm along it. From his position, he only had access to three ridges, the uneven flesh gliding under his palm in quite the satisfying fashion. "And I thought your sack is sensitive."

"Hrarr, you have a cock yourself. Don't pretend you don't know...how good it feels to be touched...after days spent without releasing your seed."

"Mine's quite dull by comparison, dragon. I don't have these neat ridges." He ran his fingers along one, grinning at the way Teryx shuddered, at how his exposed flesh tightened. "It must feel wonderful to have them stroked."

It certainly did. By running his palm up and down along the underside of his member, Haroth had the dragon panting for more, his lips quivering with the urge to snarl, to hiss, to make his bliss known to his mate.

Strangely enough, Haroth's cock stiffened as well, the sudden sparks of pleasure traveling along his girth and dispersing at his thickening base giving him pause. He grabbed himself, squeezing his jaws to trap a lustful growl, the veins covering the surface of his tapered manhood swelling to a visible diameter.

It must have been the dragon's musk, Haroth decided. It coated Haroth's palm, surrounded him, a thick miasma of raw, unquenchable desire that enflamed the sergal's senses. He licked his palm, swallowing that rich nectar, hackles bristling from its potent touch, his cock lurching in his grip.

"You're hard as a rock, dragon. I'm almost uncertain whether you'll be able to hold back your pleasure long enough for me to explore your balls." Haroth let out a satisfied purr, grasping the dragon's balls again. He rolled them around between his hands, relishing the feeling of having them trapped in his grasp. His own sack stirred and churned from the lewd strokes, mirroring the dragon's reactions, a soft, ethereal, pleasuring touch hovering around his sack. Although he couldn't explain it yet, Haroth kept at it, cupping, fondling, stroking Teryx' apples, the pleasure he inflicted upon the dragon reverberating through him as well.

It was an eerie feeling, unlike which Haroth had never experienced before. Rather than dwelling on it, he chose to embrace it, relishing the way his caress stoked his own building pleasure.

The sergal tugged the dragon's balls, made them bulge against their silken enclosure, then silenced any complaint by swirling his tongue around them. Teryx moaned as the alpha's tongue trailed along his sensitive skin, the extra wetness helping the sergal's fingers slide along the melons with great ease.

Teryx lifted his head again, eyes clouded by an ethereal veil of sheer ecstasy. "I never expected you to enjoy yourself so much."

"I'm not. You are."

He perked his ears. "Are you certain, alpha?"

"I don't know," Haroth admitted. "All I know is that, if it is within my power to help somebody, I'll do it without a second thought." He flicked his ears back, then twisted his tongue across the dragon's captive balls again. "A leader can't be selfish, else he is not going to be a leader the next day."

"Graaah!" Teryx took in a deep breath, then let it out in a hissing sigh. "That...felt great."

"Of course it did." Haroth laughed, and let a single finger wander down the dragon's member, rubbing against the back of a ridge, encouraging the dragon to produce more of those precious beads of aqueous precum.

Teryx squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if he fought back his climax. "By the skies! You sergals and your small paws. Hrrr, I've never felt so...drained, so soon." He cracked an eye open, fixating it on Haroth. "You are different, Haroth. Your mind is beautiful, and your touch blissful. That's why I'll want you to be my ambassador."

Haroth stopped his lewd caress, so that he could process the dragon's request. "An ambassador?"

"And a close friend of mine, which means I shall keep you close whenever that is convenient for us," Teryx added.

Haroth beamed at the prospect of further interaction with the dragon. Every sergal seemed to misunderstand him and his intentions, and as an alpha, he felt responsible for his welfare. To show the dragon the true extent of his intentions, Haroth shifted onto his back, trudging next to the dragon's side, right under the dragon's member, so that his tapered tip hovered only a few inches from his muzzle. From this angle, Teryx seemed bigger and more daunting than ever, yet his size worked to Haroth's advantage. The sergal's hips almost reached the base of Teryx' member, the alpha's throbbing cock too long and erect to slip it under Teryx, but perfect for rubbing the side of it against the side of one of the dragon's ridges.

"Haroth, what are you grrrrrrrrrrr," Teryx growl washed away his words, strong and sharp, just like the taste of his preseed.

Haroth parted his muzzle, and flicked his tongue out across the tip of the dragon's cock. The movement jarred it, and the sensation made Teryx gasp, his body quaking, threatening to collapse upon the sergal. His side position seemed precarious at best, but now that Haroth found a way to make it work, Teryx felt compelled to go with it. Smiling, Haroth took Teryx' tip in his mouth, suckling upon it, relishing the droplets of pre that rushed upon his tongue. He spat it out when the dragon's voice thinned, bringing his hands under his tip, collecting the few beads of slick pre dribbled from it. His hands lubricated, Haroth worked them against Teryx' shaft by giving his mating tool a very slow stroke. It flexed and tensed in his grasp, and Teryx loosened a muffled groan.

"Feels like you are close, dragon," Haroth said, his own member tensing up. With so much pent-up lust built within him, and with that eerie pleasure sending fiery tingles through his cock, Haroth began to grind his vein-beribboned cock against one of Teryx' ridges, hit tapered half slipping between them, squeezing itself through. At the same time, the sergal squeezed the dragon's member between his palms, giving it slow, passionate strokes, his tongue whirling around the sensitive tip every now and then. Teryx' hardened flesh pulsed against his paw pads, begging him to rub him behind that small, receptive flare. The moment Haroth did that, Teryx yowled, shooting a hearty strand of pre against the sergal's face.

The sergal chuckled. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were about to shoot."

"I'm close..." Terys said breathlessly.

With a single finger pad, he teased at the dragon's tapered tip. Teryx whimpered and shivered, his balls tightening. He lifted his finger, gliding that same pad up and down against the underside of his maleness, insisting on those delightful ridges, Teryx' sweet spot for sure.

"How close?" Haroth bumped his nose against his length, wrapping his long, flexible tongue around what he could.

Teryx merely growled in response.

Enjoying the way the dragon squirmed, Haroth decided to increase the speed of his strokes, rubbing the dragon's girth up and down, curling his fingertips around the base of his ridges, so that he could give them a thorough caress. When Teryx sucked in a deep breath, Haroth took his tip in his mouth, suckling on it, ramming his hips upwards, so that his cock brushed against Teryx' oversized penis.

His head swimming with euphoria, Haroth kept at it, mating his companion's shaft in the only way he could, by pushing his cock against it with the help of his aimless, erratic thrusts, relying on the friction to push him past the point of no return.

Teryx got there before Haroth. His ridges hardened to refuse, and the only thing Haroth heard was an earsplitting roar before a rush of thick, pungent cum filled his mouth to the brim. He wanted to growl, to roar his own orgasm as the fire within him grew into a wild blaze, unable to be contained. So, Haroth did the only thing, to let go and cum against Teryx' ridges, his hips pumping throughout his great pleasure, so that he could enjoy a few more of his meat grinding against the dragon's.

Haroth swallowed as much of the abundant cream as he could, its taste raw, the consistency making it hard to get it all down. Unable to keep up with the heavy lances of seed, Haroth was forced to spit the tip out, allowing Teryx' member to bob and throb uncontrollably, pelting his belly and the sergal with a rain of viscous seed.

Once his spurts calmed to a lazy dribble, Teryx rolled onto his back, panting heavily. Haroth listened to the dragon's labored breath, staring at a shuddering wing, numb from the afterglow.

"You--you made me cum so hard," Teryx said, curling around Haroth, denying him the opportunity to lick off the seed clinging to his scales. "You shall spend this day with me."

Haroth's heart leapt, lodging into his throat as he remembered the braves, the request he made to them.

"I can't, my people--they expect me."

"Oh. I wonder how you'll explain your viscous new coat to them."

The sergal was well aware he wore the dragon's climax all over him. Teryx had had a lot in him, more than he expected of a dragon, the seed beginning to turn cold upon his fur.

"It's a short swim to the shore."

"Not if I fly you there. But you're right. I could go for a bath."

With that, Teryx leapt into the sea, flapping his wings against the water, acting like a hatchling who just discovered the wonder of swimming. It warmed Haroth's heart, to see him in such good mood.

"What are you waiting for? Wash your coat, gather your clothes, and let's show your people how a dragon rider looks like."