The Greatest Predator: Scorn and Devotion by Cheetahs

The Greatest Predator: Scorn and Devotion

Cheetahs, Adventure, Anal, Anatomically Correct, Anthro, Anthropomorphic, Aroused, Ass, Balls, Blowjob, Butt, Character Development, Cock, Cuddling, Cum, Cumshot, Dragon, Drake, Ejaculation, Erection, Fantasy, Fellatio, Feral, First Time, Foreplay, Gay, Hard-On, Horny, Kinky, Licking, Lust, M/M, Male, Masturbation, Messy, Musk, Naughty, Non-Anthro, Oral, Orgasm, Penetration, Penis, Pre, Precum, Rimming, Seed, Sergal, Sex, Spooge, Stretching, Swallowing, Tailhole, Teasing, Transformation, Virgin, Wet, Yiff, slit

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**This is an illustrated story commission that I have done for Teryxc**

Greetings, dear fans and readers, and welcome to the second installment of the novella called "The Greatest Predator." Hold on to your hats, because the plot twists are coming...

Previous installment is here in case you haven't read it: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1044413

Description: Haroth's plans are thwarted by the band of Sergal braves that discover him and Teryx together. Their prejudice bubbling behind their sharp eyes, the sergals agree to escort Haroth back to the village, where he is to explain his dealings with the dragon. Little does Haroth know that his people's distrust of their resident dragon has caused them to take drastic actions that not even an alpha may hope to ameliorate...

Teryx the dragon belongs to Teryx: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/teryxc/

Haroth the sergal is my character

Cover art is done by Blitzdrachin: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/blitzdrachin/

Story is written by me, Cheetahs

The Greatest Predator: Scorn and Devotion

Teryx strode onto the muddy shoreline, his paws splashing around water and mud alike.

"Come on. Bathe. I'll give you a helping paw to speed things up a bit."

For the countless time today, the dragon surprised Haroth. Gone was the pensive, imposing creature he had first laid eyes upon, or the lewd lizard he had turned into shortly afterwards. Now, he resembled a hatchling, eager to explore that which he did not fully understand.

"We're not going into my village."

"You're right. We're not just going there. We'll fly into your village. Just try and picture the faces of all those sergals as I land among them, and the best part is that you, their alpha, shall jump from my back and show them just how eager for cooperation I am."

Haroth let out a long sigh while Teryx began to wade through the waves that splashed against his chest, his superior height keeping his head above the waters. He was right on one account. The sergals would regard him with awe for the first few seconds before their surprise would sour into fear, followed by irrational anger. They wouldn't stomach the idea of a dragon landing wherever he pleased into their village, nor tolerate a being far stronger than them. They wouldn't love and accept him, as Teryx' idealistic views would have it. Instead, the sergals would scorn him, challenge him for the right to own the island, and should the challenger lose to Teryx, all of the sergals would have the perfect excuse to grab the weapon nearest to them and seek to remove the perceived threat.

And still, in spite of this brutal truth, Haroth hoped that, with patience and understanding, he could strike a pact between the sergal village and their neighboring dragon. Just like him, his people only needed the right approach to open their hearts to the possibility of coexisting with Teryx, a being so majestic and compassionate Haroth's heart swelled at the mere sight of him.

His fiery-golden mane was soggy and disheveled along his spine, while the superior portions gracefully swayed in the wind, emphasizing the three ivory spikes adorning the upper portion of his neck. Even from a distance, he seemed colossal compared to a sergal, accentuating the stark differences between a predator of the land and a king of the skies.

Teryx' sleek, serpentine body had a lithe build, with shapely 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. 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.

"Are you admiring me, Haroth?"

Teryx' voice drew the alpha back to his senses, who licked his muzzle apprehensively and gave the dragon a meek smile. "In a way."

"And? What conclusions have you drawn?"

"That there is a fundamental difference between a predator of the sky and a predator of the land. Sergals are quick to judge and slow to accept change. Tradition is everything to them, and our history is shaped to color us, the greatest predator of this island, in a positive light."

Playfulness vanished from Teryx' gaze. His ears perked, his back straightened, and his wings folded neatly against his sides as the dragon turned to regard Haroth. "You're not the greatest predator of this island, dear sergal."

"A valid truth, but not one a hot headed sergal would accept, especially when you..." Haroth trailed off, unable--unwilling--to give Teryx the bitter truth.

"When I what? What harm have I ever inflicted upon your kind to deserve such negative reputation?"

Haroth held Teryx' sharp gaze. He had seen this fire within the eyes of a thousand sergals. He knew how to tame it, and how to stoke it, but with Teryx, he chose to do neither.

"We wouldn't have been on this island if it wasn't for you. We wouldn't have been the second greatest predator. We simply...wouldn't have existed. You didn't harm us, Teryx. You saved our people."

"Yes," Teryx said, curling his neck in an S shape. "And I didn't just save you. I allowed your kind to flourish, unrestrained. I even maintained a healthy distance from your village, foolishly believing that history is impartial at its core."

He began approaching Haroth, one methodical footstep at a time. The sergal held his ground, tail and body stiff, shoulders straight, eyes bearing into Teryx'. The dragon finally reached him, his snout inching forward, until it almost bumped into Haroth's nose.

"So, what went wrong along the way? What caused such a distortion between my truth, and the truth of your people? Be honest now."

Haroth felt that eerie touch upon his mind once again, that of ethereal coils tugging at his very being, forcing him to unravel and spill forth a thought that he preferred to keep safely guarded.

"Your multiple departures. Your lack of intervention. The paternal feelings you harbor for my people."

Teryx drew his head back, snorting in derision. "I don't harbor any paternal feelings for a people that plots to murder or banish me."

"You don't?" Haroth placed a hand on Teryx' foreleg, feeling the muscles tense under the layer of protective scales. "Because you seemed overjoyed to see me. Me, Haroth, alpha of my tribe, who had never interacted with you."

"Well...there may be a bit of bias towards certain individuals, but that's not enough for you to claim that I like your entire people. I don't."

A weak smile spread across Haroth's muzzle as he began rubbing Teryx' limb, massaging it gently. "I am alpha of my people, Teryx. I'm a good warrior, and I like to think myself as a good leader. To lead means to compromise, and that's what I've been doing for eighteen years. No matter your heart, no matter your pride, a leader chooses the path of least resistance."

Teryx curled his head around to peer into Haroth's eyes. "That's what I've been doing as well."

"No, you haven't. You relinquished control. You allowed the sergals to lead themselves, instead of you leading them. Is it any wonder they think themselves the greatest predator of this island?"

"What about your path of least resistance?" Teryx deviated the topic. "Aren't you a vicious people that value strength above all else?"

"Yes, strength. It comes in many shapes and forms, but stronger it is he who understands his weakness, and the weakness of his people, than the one who tries to deny it. Should I kill those who speak against me, like Galvarad the Cruel did? In that case, I'd be left without sergals to rule, and what is a leader without its people?"

Teryx growled in exasperation, pulling his leg away from Haroth and settling onto his haunches to scratch an ear. "So that's it? That's the secret to ruling the sergals? Compromise?"

Haroth nodded. "I compromised to come here as well. The village wanted your head. Instead, we're here, an alpha of his people talking to a dragon that can bring great disaster upon us."

"I can do that," Teryx said, looking past the lagoon. "But will I? Is my pride worth more than a life? I don't think so, no."

Haroth grinned, his tail swishing back and forth with unrestrained excitement. "I'm your ambassador, yes? That also makes me your advisor."

"Very well. Advise. Tell me how the savior of the sergals can make peace with his savage, hypothetical children."

Haroth sat besides Teryx, leaning his back against a foreleg, staring at the cliffs towering in front of him. "To correct the present, first you must learn from the past. It was a mistake to keep your noble deeds clouded in mystery. It was wrong to leave the island for prolonged periods of time, and then do exactly nothing about it."

A low growl simmered within Teryx' throat, but the dragon didn't yet interrupt Haroth.

"You conquered this island. Four warring sergal clans fought for the right of dominance, and you came on top. Everybody should have known who their ruler is, and who they answer to."

"Common sense dictates that you should show a measure of gratitude to the one who saves your hide."

"That first generation probably did. The ones that followed chose to forget. It was a convenient thing for us sergals, given your gallivanting habits."

Teryx snarled at that. "You sure love to remind me of that!"

"Have you found what you were looking for, at least?"

Teryx sighed, lowered himself onto his belly and dragged Haroth against his chest, holding him in place with that huge, five toed paw.

"I wouldn't keep returning here if I did. For better or worse, this island is the only constant in my life."

The touch of sorrow that tinted the dragon's voice pricked at Haroth's heart. The sergal took in a deep, reassuring breath, grabbed the dragon's paw, and looked him in the eyes. "We'll do right by you. We owe you that."

"You don't owe me anything, aside from a good advice on how to proceed from now on."

With their relationship, or with Teryx' status among the sergals? Haroth wiped out that stupid smirk off his face and, instead, spoke with a deep and solemn tone. "Not all sergals are stubborn. Most are ready to welcome change if they witness its benefits. First, I will return to the village to explain to them how this encounter went."

"Without the redundant details, hopefully."

Teryx' loud and confident laughter mixed with Haroth's fainter, uncertain one. The sergal didn't yet know what to make of the intimacy he had shared with the dragon. A side of him had greatly yearned for it, to the point where he surrendered to his carnal desires. The other side, the logical one of a leader, cowered at the possible repercussions this short moment of joy might trigger if one of the braves, or a scout, spotted them.

"My mate would laugh and ask for details. My shaman, on the other hand, is not so merciful. He would strip me of my rank and banish me, or invoke the rite of scorn, where every sergal who has been wronged by the alpha can punish me however they deem fit."

"So banishment or public execution," Teryx mused out loud, then nuzzled Haroth's neck. "I'm asking much of you, Haroth. Too much."

"And we have given you too little." The sergal placed a paw on the side of the dragon's jaw, caressing him softly. "I believe in fairness, Teryx. We have wronged you, so one way or another, we have to make it right."

"By putting yourself and your mate in a precarious position you may not emerge from?"

Haroth shook his head. "By being the ambassador you need me to be. The sergals are my people, Teryx. They are blood of my blood, and they will listen to their alpha. I, Haroth, alpha of my people, swear this before you."

"What do you swear before the dragon?"

Both Haroth and Teryx scrambled to their feet at the sound of that raspy voice.

Neregrin.

Haroth suppressed the growl clawing at his throat as he raised his gaze towards the cliffs. "I told you to wait for my return."

All of the braves were there, armed, looking down on their alpha and Teryx with the authority of fate itself.

"We got tired of waiting. Needed to make sure our alpha is alive and well," Pordorax said.

"He is," Teryx said. "And our negotiations are finished. He's free to return among his kin."

Although his new friend meant well, Teryx' voice made Haroth's jaws clench and his teeth to grind against each other. Most of the sergals were a superstitious lot, and at least two braves must have already suspected Teryx of foul sorcery, sternly refusing to believe that their alpha could peacefully converse with their nemesis.

"I can twist their perception in our favor," Teryx whispered to Haroth as he began backing away a few steps. "Just say the word."

Haroth, instead, placed himself between the braves and Teryx, signaling at them to head towards the beach.

Galvangar crossed his arms over his chest, displaying his twin axes. "We're fine waiting for you here, alpha."

"Stand high and proud atop your cliffs, stroll on the beach, or sleep in your little huts if it makes you feel safer. As a dragon, I can fly, dear sergal. It's all the same to me."

The braves muttered among themselves, giving Haroth an opportunity to share some wisdom with Teryx.

"Don't speak. Don't breathe. Don't think. Everything you do worsens our odds of bringing them to our side."

"We're just talking," Teryx said, a bit louder than Haroth wished.

"You are talking, they are judging you from up there. Is how sergals are."

"They're five seconds away from my jaws."

"They don't know nor believe that," Haroth said.

"Seems the negotiations are still going," Pordorax said, stretching his back and scratching at an ear. "Shall we leave you to discuss matters in private?"

Haroth didn't like the sound of that, and neither did Teryx. At least, this time around, he--

"We'd appreciate that a great deal, kind sergal."

"As the dragon wishes." Pordorax bowed like the people from the mainland did, much to Teryx' amusement and to the shock of his companions. Galvangar steadied his axes, while Neregrin hefted his spear, ready to defend Pordorax.

"The dragon also wishes me to act as his ambassador," Haroth said, adding thunder into his voice with the hope of putting an end to this face. "He's under my protection, and no harm shall come to him until we agree on a pact."

"We'll wait you in the forest, alpha," Galvangar said, gathering his little band of rogues and disappearing from Haroth's sight.

"I can fly you up there and speed things up," Teryx offered, and Haroth declined with a vehement shake of his head.

"Do that, and they'll assume the worst."

"That we explored our bodies thoroughly?"

Haroth would have smiled if Neregrin or Mandyr would have led the braves. Galvangar, on the other hand, bode ill, and for the first time in years, the cold fingers of fear crept along his spine.

"Worse. That you placed a charm over me to turn me into your puppet. If I don't return come nightfall, leave this island, for it will be your life or thousands of theirs."

That must have left Teryx cold as well, for the dragon nodded and retreated into his alcove, where he curled into a ball.

Haroth took his eyes off Teryx. He couldn't hold doubts. Not now. Not when the life of his new friend and the lives of his people were at stake. The braves, as well as his tribe, needed to be pacified, and only their alpha could do that.

Haroth entered the waters, their calm contrasting with his inner turmoil. It was during times like these when he needed his mate to take him into bed and tell him that not even the alpha could change the ways of his people. Once upon a time, Haroth believed that as well.

But no longer.

That made him feel strangely liberated, to finally take initiative in correcting the wrongs of his ancestors. On the other hand, he risked alienating his very people due to his ties with the dragon, a loose variable that might very well have used him for his own pleasure.

You don't believe that, but you want to, because it's easier to put Teryx in the wrong and the sergals in the right, guilt whispered into Haroth's mind.

Haroth shook his head to disperse his thoughts and worries and, instead, he focused on the task at hand, that of coming up with an explanation of what happened that the braves might find convincing.

The alpha almost had one, but it immediately vanished from his mind, like a rabbit that spotted a hunter, when he sighted the group resting on the side of the game trail, all six of them.

Even the youngling.

Neregrin was the first to get up and break from the group, leaning against his spear for support, scrutinizing his alpha.

"We all have opinion on what happened between you and dragon."

"Good. You shall voice it in the Great Hall, where more than a handful of ears will hear you."

Neregrin simply shrugged his shoulders. "I'll say it there as well, but first, I want my alpha to hear me."

His rough voice resembled his haggard appearance. Like any combatant, he only covered his loins, muscles rippling under the ashen fur covering his well-developed abdomen, arms and legs. It took Haroth aback, that a sergal with more brawn than wits had the audacity to address him first. Served to show just how unique his people were.

"I respect you, alpha, and will follow you, so long as it brings me honor to do so. There is, however, no honor in dealing with haired lizard capable of sorcery. It says it wants peace, when in truth, it wants to enslave us. It is known."

"It is known," Galvangar said, taking his place beside Neregrin. He had a lanky body, the strap of leather running diagonally across his chest filled with dark iron daggers. He kept his axes strapped across his back, two short and small weapons meant for quick and surprising attacks.

"My first opinion of your task was so foul you wouldn't have liked to hear it. Times change, though, and given that we may host a dragon into our Great Hall, I believe it's for the best if I advise a smart and cunning way to kill him. Earn his trust, pretend you're his friend, and show your people that no treacherous dragon comes before kin."

He spoke with such zeal! Pity that Haroth would have to kill him once he issued his challenge.

The next sergal was 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.

He thumped his chest with his longbow reverently before speaking. "I didn't join this hunt for fame or glory. If I wanted that, I would have been in the forest, stalking prey and predator alike, instead of spending time among pots and kettles. I'm here because our people need keen eyes, sharp wits, and ruthless pragmatism. Give the word, and I shall put an arrow into the dragon's eye so deep we'll have to bury him with it."

The sergals chuckled, Galvangar the loudest. "You should have stopped at keen eyes."

Haroth gave them a courteous smile, nothing more, before receiving Pordorax, a navy colored sergal with cerulean colored chest. He had a sharp muzzle and even sharper wits, more interested in banter than causing harm to...well, anybody.

"It's a shame that talks of cruelty are the hallmark of our kind. One would think that a whole history lived alongside the dragon is enough to show his intent, but how can the sergals be the greatest predator on this island if he's around?"

"Watch your tongue, pretty pup," Galvangar snarled, but Pordorax had a dagger at his throat before he could even blink.

"I'm a peacekeeper. Know how I came to be a peacekeeper?"

"By assassinating whoever the previous alphas pointed you to," Neregrin said.

"And there is no greater peace to be found than in death," Pordorax added before taking on the path by himself. "I talked with a dragon and restrained myself from killing a loud mouth in front of my alpha. Enough excitement for one day."

The remaining two sergals, a brown, hulking monstrosity and a tawny, light-hearted and fretful youth, had no opinion to share with Haroth. 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 to get a stab at the dragon's cold body and brag about his achievements to get a worthy mate.

Haroth knew why they all waited, tension obvious on their twitching whiskers, swishing tails, or fretful fingers. It made his heart sink, to face such prejudiced and bloodthirsty sergals, and give in to their peer pressure.

But not like this. Not how they wanted. That was what compromising entailed.

"You all followed me here. I ask that you follow me still, so that I make my decision regarding the dragon known within the Great Hall, with all our people to bear witness to it."

"I pray that it's a wise decision, else the people will bear witness to the fall and rise of a new alpha."

The other sergals mobilized, letting Haroth take the lead while they marched behind him. It would have been easier for Galvangar to bury an axe into his back right here, but without the sergals to see Haroth fall, his efforts would be for naught. So, Haroth kept his head high and his posture straight, radiating with confidence he did not possess.

Appearances. They came in second after the ability to compromise, equally valuable to a leader. Let the people believe you are greater than you truly are, so that they always overestimated your capabilities. Once an alpha bled, his people would smell liquid weakness trickling out of him, and would realize that, just like them, he was a mere sergal.

Ideally, Haroth wanted to delay that. Postpone it, even, if given the possibility, but the odds of that lessened the closer they got to the village.

No axes swung at trees. No builders clambered the wooden frames surrounding the stone houses. No traders manned their stalls. Only a scarce number of sergals meandered through the streets, the elderly and the young, both kinds uninterested in political maneuvers, or maybe afraid of stirring the ire of a dragon if they looked one way, or the wrath of the alpha if they looked the other way.

If only the rest of his people held such acumen...

"My alpha!" Pordorax said, sitting beside the Ebonwood doors like a glorified sentry. "Your shaman had taken the liberty of gathering everybody inside while a couple of lads and I urged the rest into their homes or out into the forest. If the Great Hall bleeds, we might as well lessen the casualties."

"The Great Hall holds over a thousand," Neregrin snarled. "I won't let madness and stupidity descend over our people. We didn't hold the dragon at bay, only to do the killing for him."

"There is only one death that counts. If he gives it willingly, then nobody will--"

Neregrin swiped Galvangar across the head so hard the spindly sergal tumbled a few feet to the side from the impact.

"You're not alpha yet, pup. Speak such words again, and I'll add a death to the count that only the worms and crows will care about."

Pordorax shrugged, Mandyr sighed, the brute growled his thirst for blood, and the youth masked a shudder by wrapping his cloak tighter around himself.

"Well, I can't speak for my companions, but I, for one, am eager to see how this turns out," Pordorax said, moving in front of the massive doors and pushing them open to reveal a thousand heads that turned towards Haroth, hushed whispers circulating between them along with the faint smell of incense.

As custom dictated, Haroth entered the Great Hall first, the braves trailing behind him. The tables had been cast aside to make room for the impressive crowd and the weapons they brandished. Axes, spears, clubs, maces--by the looks of it, the sergals grabbed the first weapon their paws fell upon, clutching them nervously, their collective tension soaring through the halls like a tenebrous veil.

And, in the middle of the room, sprawled into the elevated chair that was Haroth's by right of conquest, was the shaman, painted with the ceremonial runes and colors, looking down on Haroth like a disinterested deity. With a flick of a finger, he cleared the area around the dais upon which his throne sat, signaling Haroth to approach.

"Haroth, son of Hrathgar. Step forward."

As he did, Haroth looked left and right. Everywhere, sergals. Some snarled, others turned their heads away from him, and only one held his gaze and nodded.

Karzjasha, his mate.

The alpha's poise faltered for a moment. Panic seized his spine, and he stumbled forward when his paw met the slanted portion of the floor that led up to the throne. A few sergals sneered and growled in amusement, but Haroth's sharp gaze silenced them instantly.

"Do you know why I occupy the seat meant for you, alpha?"

"Because it's the only seat in the room?"

Pordorax' quip elicited audible chuckles, and even the shaman smiled wryly. "It doesn't come as a surprise that custom is lost on you, assassin. You're only alive because the alpha willed it, redundant as you are."

"Aye, but it's not me who sits before the whole village. He is."

Haroth looked up at the shaman, his eyes cold, his features stern. "Get on with it. You wouldn't have rallied the sergals if you hadn't plotted this for a while."

"You condemn yourself with your own words, Haroth," the shaman said, leaning forward so that he could spread his arms to the sides. "We're not here to judge you. We are here to determine who you are: the dragon's slave, or our beloved alpha."

That word cut deeper than Haroth expected. Slave?!

It took all of his effort to hold back his temper and maintain his cool, elevated tone. "I went to treat with him. To save you--all of you--from being obliterated off the face of the island, a fate that the Thornridge tribe conveniently escaped. Did it never occur to you why the storm washed away four ancient sergal tribes, but left us standing?"

"Some call it chance. Others mentioned it as a freak occurrence. You know how unreliable scrolls are, Haroth. Whatever truly happened that day floated away with the rest of our homes."

"Aye, your homes. How tragic, for the Thornridge tribe to lose their tents while everybody else lost their lives. Teryx saved us. All of us. He saved you, and you, and you."

Haroth pointed at several sergals to gauge their reactions. A few retreated a step back, heads bowed in shame, while most of them displayed their fangs, the bias too strong within them.

"And here is where the confusion lies with your statement, alpha." the shaman said, summoning Mandyr forward. "You shot a boar from five hundred yards, haven't you?"

"I have," Mandyr said.

"You have slain the Herald of Winter within its very den."

"The warmest fur I ever brought to my mate. She liked it so much, it now stinks of seed and wet cunt."

"And you have also served four alphas faithfully."

"I still do," Mandyr said.

Haroth bit back a scoff. He knew where this was heading, and so did the clamoring sergals who cheered for their glorified cook.

The shaman turned away from Mandyr to address the Great Hall. "Mandyr cooked your meals. Mandyr had hunted the most fearsome beasts that ever prowled this island. His sight never faltered, his words never strayed from the truth. Hear him now."

Mandyr growled to clear his voice, chanced Haroth a furtive glance, and said, "Our alpha is right. He went to talk terms with the dragon, but the vile beast wanted more than an ambassador. He wanted a companion. A lover. A mate."

Gasps, growls, and roars of revulsion filled the Great Hall. It was a wonder, how the shaman managed to still them by simply stretching his arms.

"Got any proof to strengthen your claims?"

Mandyr licked his muzzle and dipped his head. "Spotted seed in the sand. Too much seed. More than I expected to see in this lifetime or the next."

Haroth's guts twisted. His jaws clenched, and his claws bit into the pads of his palms, pricking them, drawing droplets of blood. How? How did he allow such insignificant detail to cause so much harm?

"You spoke enough. Galvangar, do you confirm Mandyr's observation?"

"I do. I instructed the braves to keep it quiet while we climbed the cliffs, so that we could prepare an ambush, should the dragon bare his fangs to our alpha's terms."

Hushed murmurs filled the room, so the shaman urged Galvangar to continue.

"There was no need for an ambush. There was no need for us to be there at all. The alpha leaned against the dragon's foreleg, while the beast nuzzled and licked his prized possession. Perhaps dragons find it acceptable, to fornicate with those sent to treat with them, but I, Galvangar, have only one word to call Haroth. Prey," he spat. "Prey to the dragon."

The crowd erupted into earsplitting din, across which one single word stood out.

Prey.

The shaman once again soothed the sergals' boiling blood, shoving a palm towards Neregrin, stripping him of his right to speak.

"Sorcery. Foul sorcery. Our ancestors knew what comes of cavorting with the dragon. They never approached him. Never spoke to him, for they understood that meddling with an enchanted beast will cost them their very soul."

"Have I right to speak?" Haroth asked, adding thunder into his voice. "Am I not your alpha, still?"

The shaman quieted the roaring crowd, staring Haroth down with the authority of death itself.

"No. You are not alpha anymore. Prey," the shaman roared. "Prey is what you are."

Then, he got up, his bone mantle rattling, the tiny jars of oil around his waist clinking. He dipped a finger into each of them, tracing it in the air. Once upon a time, the elements heeded the shamans, bestowing them with power often visible within the shimmering runes they drew into thin air.

Islvar had no such power, yet through superstition and prejudice, he convinced the whole Thornridge tribe to rally against Haroth.

"Your blood rings true, and the words of your people ring truer. You have tainted the sergal custom by willingly becoming a puppet--prey to the dragon. I, Islvar, shaman, denounce you and attaint you and inflict the rite of scorn upon you, so that every sergal within these halls can challenge and punish you as they deem fit."

Silence fell over the Great Hall. The braves looked around, bewildered. The shaman himself sat upon his elevated chair, clutching the armrests tighter than a victor should. Sergals might crave for blood, but their thirst for combat would never win over their instinct for self-preservation, and Haroth had killed one too many challengers in front of the very people meant to attack him.

"Extract vengeance, brethren," the shaman urged. "Swarm him. He is one, and you are a thousand."

"He is alpha," Neregrin intervened. "And if the elements will it, he shall die an alpha's death in righteous combat."

"He is under the rite of scorn," the shaman growled. "He's no longer alpha."

"He's been alpha for eighteen years. That's not going to stop just because you said some words."

"Blasphemy!" the shaman spat, rising. "You dare go against the words of our forefathers? You dare question their wisdom?"

"Not theirs. Yours," Neregrin said, snarling. "The rite of scorn meant something when the elements guided your fingers, so that you could bring their will into existence before the eyes of your people. I see no shimmering runes, shaman. You just dabbed your finger at the air, said some words, and expected us to kill our own alpha."

"He's a puppet!" Somebody yelled from the crowd.

"Dragon fucker!" Another voice joined in.

"Prey!"

The chorus gained strength and numbers, the blood of a thousand sergals heating to dangerous levels.

Haroth opened his mouth to speak...

But it was his mate who beat him to it. "Aye. He may be prey, but what does that make you lot?"

Haroth froze. His limbs refused to budge, and his tongue tangled in his mouth, rendering him unable to put his mate into place. She grabbed his hand, smiled, nuzzled his cheek, then turned towards the crowd, wearing a darkening scowl on her face.

"You stand there, calling him prey, yet none of you dares come forward. None of you wants to be the predator who brings the prey down."

Her words perplexed the crowd, inviting fear and reluctance into their hearts. She played this right. She played it fair.

But Haroth was already condemned.

He clutched her paw, kissed her neck, and tried to push her away. In response, Karzjasha snarled and snapped at him.

"You can't face them alone, Haroth. No sergal can. Don't be a fool. Don't--"

"It's your alpha's rite of scorn, not yours," Pordorax said, stepping next to her and casually wrapping an arm over her shoulder. When she sought to elbow his jaw, the assassin seized her wrist and twisted it, gaining full control over her body. "This is between him and his people. Respect his choice."

Pride bloomed within his chest as he watched Pordorax lead Karzjasha away through a back door. She gave him growls, she gave him a ruthless glare, but she didn't question his choice. For all her stubbornness, Karzjasha chose to believe in him against all odds, against her very instinct.

With his mate escorted out of this brewing storm, a boulder lifted off his heart, allowing Haroth to take his fate into his own hands.

"I accept the rite of scorn," he said, drawing a thousand different reactions from the crowd. Galvangar smirked inwardly, while Neregrin muttered something under his breath. Damned fool, if Haroth's guess was right.

"Why?" the combatant demanded. "You had your rank. You had your pride, and you tossed it in the dirt."

"What is rank, what is pride, against the wellbeing of my people? I won't have the Thornridge be torn apart by disagreements. I won't be known as the alpha who invited civil war into our midst. Whoever wishes to challenge me should do so now. Otherwise, you forfeit your claim to the rite of scorn and you shall have a dragon sympathizer as an alpha."

His request stirred the sergal gathering. They began brandishing their weapons, trying to summon enough courage to put their resolve to the ultimate test.

"He's ready to die," Galvangar said. "Give him the mercy of a swift death, so that we can leave his carcass to the crows and be done with it."

"Then you better be extra swift, else I'll kill you with your own weapon, like I did with Jven."

Haroth made sure to cast his gaze upon the whole room, showing the burning intent within his eyes to everybody.

"They have every reason to be afraid," Neregrin said, stepping in front of Haroth, blocking his view of the crowd. "We saw you kill every challenger that craved for your rank within the Great Hall."

Haroth's gut clenched when Neregrin planted his spear at his side, tall and honorable and unyielding.

"You did what you thought was right. The shaman did what he thought was right as well. I don't know who is wrong and who is right, as politics are lost on a combatant. What I do know, however, is that somebody has to stand up for the people."

And that somebody, of all the sergals present in the Great Hall, had to be him...

For his plan to work, Haroth had no choice but to fight each volunteer that accepted the tradition of the rite of scorn, to sate the bloodthirst of his people with his very own.

The whole room fell silent as Haroth and Neregrin began circling each other, all of them eager to witness the draw of the first blood. Stripping a fool like Jven of his arms had been too easy for Haroth, but Neregrin was a proven combatant and most likely the best fighter among the braves. There was no point in wasting his life to prolong Haroth's for a few more moments.

The alpha stepped forward, urging Neregrin to stab his spear at his gut. A simple sidestep allowed Haroth to dodge that, and he made sure to feign a lunging strike right after that.

As expected, Neregrin's combat instincts seized the opportunity right away. He pushed back his spear, pivoted on his left leg, and plunged the jagged, razor sharp head so deep into Haroth's thigh half of it came out the opposite end, dripping with blood.

Haroth clenched his jaws harder than he ever did before to prevent a howl of pain from exploding out of his muzzle. Overwhelming pain shot through his leg, but the alpha's focus failed to dwindle. In one quick swipe, he broke the shaft of Neregrin's spear, slammed it on the side of his jaw, and used the short window his dazing blow earned him to charge into Neregrin, sending both of them crashing with Haroth on top.

From his elevated position, the alpha pressed the broken spear shaft he had seized from Neregrin against the sergal's throat and pushed, and pushed, and pushed harder, regardless of the blows landing upon his ribs, of the claws raking at his face. With his superior weight to pin Neregrin down, Haroth slowly but surely choked the combatant.

His bloodshot eyes bulged in their sockets. The jabs turned feebler with each guttural cough leaving Neregrin's muzzle. As life fled from the combatant's eyes, so did the spasms that traversed the length of his tongue, allowing it to loll on the side of his mouth.

It was in that moment when Haroth released the choking hold he had over Neregrin to stumble onto his two legs while the combatant drew in deep, heaving breaths.

"You all crave for my blood!" Haroth roared. "Well, there is more than enough in me to sate all of you!"

Awe replaced the righteous anger plastered upon the faces of his people. They had known their alpha to fight with unmatched ferocity in duels that lasted long enough for them to savor the thrill of combat.

Only, this hadn't been a fight. It wasn't even a duel, as duels ended with only one victor still standing.

"Why did....you let me...live?" Neregrin rasped.

"You didn't fight for personal gain or glory. You fought for your people, and your people need you still."

"Hrrrah, pathetic!" Galvangar's growl shattered the murmurs that ignited within the crowd. "Is this who you want to follow? A traitorous prey with no regard for custom?"

His poise, along with the way he flaunted his axes, earned him a few howls of approval, but not as many as he had hoped for. Confidence withered on Galvangar's face, while Haroth smiled wryly, the pain too deep to savor this small victory.

"Speak your intentions with your axes, and see them better received," Haroth dared him on.

Galvangar was no Neregrin. He had no notion of discipline or control, attacking Haroth with a flurry of terse attacks, like a snapping eel. The alpha danced, ducked, swung out of the deadly reach of the blades for the first strikes, using the openings to land a few punches into Galvangar's ugly mug.

The spindly sergal disengaged, blood rolling down his nostrils. Although he tried to mask it, Haroth saw the loathing respect he harbored for his might burning within his eyes. A few more of those well-aimed blows, and he'd falter under their crushing strength, thus giving Haroth the upper hand.

"You move quite well with a spear in your thigh. Makes one wonder if the combatant truly put his soul into the fight."

Haroth didn't want to give Galvangar the satisfaction of seeing his self-control crumble. It already took a huge toll on him to keep the pain trapped in a distant corner of his mind, let alone put weight on his wounded leg.

Instead of waiting for the rogue to make his move, Haroth hurled himself at him, evading a side blow, swinging his head back from a decapitating strike, then blocking another upcoming swing by slamming his shoulder into Galvangar. One of his axes fell in unison with him, but the other buried into his shoulder, the cut shallow yet deep enough to graze his bone.

Unlike Neregrin, Galvangar rolled with the momentum, recovering his footing with surprising agility and adopting a crouching pose meant to provide range and strength at the expense of speed.

"Grab the fallen axe," Neregrin urged. "Whatever the enemy drops is up for grabs, even in a rite of scorn."

Haroth ignored that lifesaving advice. He could have killed Galvangar by hurling his own weapon at him, but Haroth no longer fought for himself.

He fought for his ideals, far removed from the weakness of the flesh, meaningful and eternal.

The spar with Galvangar turned from a supposedly brief execution of the disgraced alpha into a drawn-out fight for survival. Haroth made sure to kick his second axe into the crowd, keeping the rogue armed with a single weapon which, after he inflicted a dozen cuts on Haroth, he switched into a two handed grip.

He swung it fast, he swung it right, and every single time, he got a bit greedier, stepping an inch too far, putting a bit too much strength into his blows. Haroth seized the moment, using Galvangar's frustration and impatience against him. By tricking him into a rib smash that would have been Haroth's end, the alpha lowered his right arm at the last moment, allowing the sharp blade to bite halfway into his thick bone.

Galvangar's eyes widened for a fraction of a moment. He tried to tear his weapon free and try a second, swifter, deadlier strike, but it was too late.

Haroth smashed his good elbow into Galvangar's temple, sending the sergal skidding across the floor from the impact. Stunned, helpless and groaning, it took him too long to recover. By the time he did, Haroth squeezed his paw against his knuckles, applying enough pressure to feel them break under his weight.

Galvangar howled in pain, a jarring sound that lasted for the briefest of moments before Haroth snapped his neck. Once the deed was done, the alpha stumbled back, the sounds of the crowd muffling in his ears, the sights before him beginning to blur and distort. He took in short and quick breaths, the deeper ones flaring his pain to uncontrollable levels.

With his last remaining strength, Haroth forced his pain back one last time, enough to give the shaman a sharp, icy gaze that made him shiver in his chair.

"Fight him. One of you, step forward. Extract vengeance on the false alpha who betrayed your tribe."

"He didn't betray us. He fought for us. Bled for us," Neregrin said. He nodded to Haroth, and when the alpha remained silent, the combatant stepped besides him, his action stirring whispers and snarls alike.

"You have no right to challenge him again, defeated. Step away from the condemned and embrace your shame," the shaman said.

"Since when is mercy shameful, shaman?" Neregrin countered. "Since when do we fight among ourselves, kill each other, at the whims of somebody else? Since when do we condemn our very alpha for treating with a dragon on our behalf? His intentions were pure. Always have been, and it's because of sergals like you that we misinterpreted them."

Haroth kept his back to the shaman. He would have liked to see that worm tremble on his throne, but far more satisfying were the collective nods and growls of approval.

"He's right. I stand with Neregrin," a sergal shouted.

"Haroth isn't a puppet to the dragon. If he was, he wouldn't have spared our combatant," another joined in.

"We want Haroth to live."

"Live, live, live, live," the chorus demanded of Islvar, too loud for the shaman not to notice.

He silenced them in his usual manner, got up from his lofty chair, and said, "Very well. You are banished from the Thornridge tribe, Haroth, never to step foot in our village or kill on our hunting grounds. I, Islvar, shaman, thus end the rite of scorn and disperse this crowd."

Cheers and howls of unbridled anger alike flooded the Great Hall. The crowd began to stir like the waves of an ocean, tension rising within the sergal ranks.

"Better start moving towards the back door, Haroth. Once the shaman is gone, so is the sense of those who disagree with his verdict."

Haroth noticed the increasing turmoil too. Those whose shouts didn't join the din began shuffling towards the edges of the Great Hall, bearing subtle snarls and weapons they didn't conceal too well.

Neregrin summoned two sergals from the crowd, both armed with daggers, to flank Haroth, while Pordorax strode in front of him, his gait befitting a prancing fawn, not a warrior.

"Your mate is safe, so less focus on her and more focus on coming up with a plan to survive..." he paused while scanning Haroth's battered body, "well, this."

"I don't care if I die. I'm an outcast. Only the worms are interested in my fate."

"That is where, dear alpha, we disagree. That poor excuse of a shaman will either get assassinated in his tent, poisoned in the morning, stabbed on the way to petitions, decapitated by a--"

"You made your point," Neregrin growled. "The alpha knows."

Haroth didn't know what he knew and what he didn't. With each limping step he took, his concentration began to slip. His body became heavy and ungainly, his head light, and his wounds far too demanding. They clawed at him with searing talons, biting and biting away at his sanity.

Blood matted his dark fur. It trickled onto the stones of the winding path leading outside the Great Hall, away from the shouts, away from the madness brewing within.

"You know the way. You know the forests. Survive," Neregrin said.

"And come back to us, preferably, on the dawn of the fourth day. Fifth could do. Sixth is stretching it a little."

"Why? Why would I--" Before he had the chance to finish, an arrow lodged into his shoulder, causing him to fall with a feeble hiss.

"HAR! Death to the..." The assailant's words were replaced with a gurgle, Pordorax' dagger buried too deep into his neck to allow more words out of his cunt muzzle.

"Go, go. He's just the first of many."

Pordorax had it right. Sergals came pouring out of the Great Hall, spreading like the tentacles of an octopus.

"Sergals, to me!" Neregrin rallied them. "Keep the peace. Slay whoever holds a weapon in their hand. Respect tradition, lest madness becomes us."

Haroth didn't wait to see the outcome to that. He ran, if his rapid maladroit shuffle could even be called that. Thoughts and emotions blurred within his mind, each competing for his wavering conscience.

He made it to the fringes of the village, wobbled past the tree line, and walked for a couple more minutes before his balance wavered. Even then, the alpha continued on his fours before resorting to crawling, using his last strength to enter a clearing.

"Teryx..." was the last word that fled his numb, unresponsive lips.

Haroth came to his senses in a damp, dark cave, illuminated only by the dapples of light creeping through crevices in the ceiling. His eyes reacted to the pale, shimmering light of the moon, brightening the cave in an instant.

This wasn't right. His sight--it shouldn't have been this good! Not at nighttime, not in a cave.

Haroth squeezed his eyes shut, afraid to open them again. He tried pushing himself up, but instead of moving his limbs or rolling onto his side, the appendages that sprouted from his back unfurled and buffeted the ground, the sensation of those extra limbs slapping bare rock so strange to Haroth he roared in panic, so loud and so harsh he snapped his maw shut in an instant.

This wasn't his voice either.

His heart began pounding, and cold fingers seized his spine as he replayed that uncharacteristic sound of a sergal over and over in his mind. Did he imagine it? Was his mind playing tricks on him? He only had to open his eyes and be exposed to the detailed outline of the cave to be struck by gut wrenching realization.

Something had happened to him, something that changed his body to the point where it no longer felt like it belonged to him. His tail swished with broader, stronger swings, curling inwardly and flicking with abnormal mobility. His toes felt stiffer, his hands more rigid and, worst of all, were the bulges that sprouted from where his shoulder blades should have been. The longer he laid on his back, the more the pressure exerted upon them reminded Haroth of their existence, instilling irrational panic within him.

Was it the shaman? Had he worked some foul magic to transform Haroth into something vile and repulsive?

The distant patter of claws made his ears perk. His instincts took over, forcing Haroth to roll onto his belly and snarl towards the mouth of the cavern.

"You have no reason to snarl, Haroth. You are this island's second dragon now. Your mere presence is enough to make the toughest of sergals reconsider their tactics."

It was true. He had paws for hands and feet, a tapered tail that felt too long for comfort and two disobedient wings which shifted and twitched in their sockets out of their own accord. Haroth's mind reeled from this discovery, but the real shock came from the coloring of his body.

He wasn't just a dragon. He became Teryx himself!

Despair blossomed within his breast. His claws drew thin rakes along the floor, and his nostrils flared to take in deep, panicked breaths as his thoughts twisted inside out. He couldn't be Teryx. This--this wasn't possible. How could he be Teryx, when another Teryx loomed in front of him, tall and imposing, flaunting a satisfied, draconic grin.

"Relax. Breathe. Close your eyes until you feel ready to process this."

Haroth took the dragon's advice. He curled into a ball, sneaked his head under a wing to block this puzzling sight, and tried to recall what happened.

A fight at the Great Hall. His banishment. That quick, desperate run for his life.

And then, nothing.

"Eeep!" Haroth squeaked as something warm, moist and firm touched his neck.

Teryx ignored his protests and licked him again, and again, making the sergal-turned-dragon hum without his accord.

"It's just licking. Us dragons love it. They will help alleviate your tension."

Easy for him to say! He didn't wake up as a carbon copy of another being, trapped in a body that he didn't fully understand. The more Haroth stared at his hind paw, the more surreal everything seemed.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe, instead of the Great Nothing, there was something palpable in the afterlife, a world governed by outlandish rules.

Haroth shuddered at the mere thought of it. Everything he was, everything he knew, had been stripped away from him.

He used to be alpha. Now, he turned into Teryx, every scale, every strand of hair, every claw resembling those of the blue dragon to perfection.

To better understand his situation, Haroth poked his head past his wing, taking it all in despite the hollowness building within his gut. Teryx, as expected, settled besides him, sprawling a vast wing over his form, its warmth more troubling than reassuring.

In a way, he did become the dragon's puppet, for nothing could explain Teryx' rumbling contentment, or the way he leaned his neck against Haroth's, releasing a soft sigh. The dragon--his friend--had treated him like a possession before, and now he simply made Haroth's status clearer.

"We'll wait for your shudders to lessen before tackling the crux of the matter."

"I don't..." Haroth trailed off, shaken by the foreign touch of his voice that sounded eerily similar to Teryx'. "I don't want to wait. The longer I wait, the more I'll unravel. Tell me what I am, dragon. Tell me what has become of me."

"Very well." Teryx arched his neck in an S shape, his eyes bearing into Haroth's.

"First of all, I profoundly apologize for the confusion caused by this side effect of my magic. In my defense, you weren't breathing when I found you. Haroth, alpha of his tribe and my only friend, lied in a pool of his own blood, a spearhead lodged into his thigh, and bleeding from another dozen cuts. I...panicked," Teryx said, his ears sagging for a moment. "I forgot my training with restorative magic. I forgot my limits. My mind turned blank, devoid of any thought but one: to save you. No matter the cost, no matter the repercussions, I had to help you, one of the precious few sergals who showed a measure of interest in me. No no, don't speak. Not yet."

Teryx placed a paw on top of Haroth's snout, the scent of his paw pads smooth and familiar. "I do not...do this often, Haroth. I have lived for too long and have met too many people to know better. The more attached I get to your kind, the more it hurts when your bodies turn frail and your minds unravel. But you..."

He looked away at a distant shaft of moonlight peering through a crack. "You were under my protection. You were my ambassador, and I foolishly sent you back to your people. In my vast ignorance, I truly believed that the Thornridge tribe will accept the choices of their alpha, an undefeated sergal in his prime."

As soon as Teryx' paw slid off Haroth's snout, he said, "I am alpha no longer. I'm not even a sergal. I am..."

"A dragon," Teryx cut in. "A dragon that looks just like me. I may have healed your wounds, but by doing so, I granted you this fine new form for about two hours, give or take. The time you spend in this form varies on the amount of magic I funnel into the spell."

"And how much of yourself have you poured into it?" Haroth inquired.

"Enough to sleep for a day and a night, starting from this very moment." Teryx yawned, growled in a cute, muffled way, and snuggled tighter against Haroth, surprising him with his openness.

"You should rest as well. You will wake up in your familiar body, not this fleeting husk." A touch of bitter regret coated his words, one that Haroth knew far too well from his mate. That was always her way of guilt tripping Haroth into giving her what she wanted, and it surprised him to see that Teryx, for all his might and wisdom, sure acted like a pouty hatchling at times.

In spite of the ocean of thoughts and worries swarming through his mind, Haroth forced himself to nuzzle the chin of his friend and purr invitingly.

"I would still like to learn the intricacies of a dragon's body. Not many sergals are granted this opportunity."

"There have been a few inquisitive ones. Back then, I enjoyed nudging their emotions a great deal, and they enjoyed my company even more..." Teryx' voice became dimmer, wistful almost. His eyes shifted towards Haroth, those ebony slits staring at him with an intensity that bespoke of great longing.

Eventually, Teryx' head crashed on top of Haroth's chest. His forelegs came around his neck, embracing him, holding him like a prized possession that Teryx never wanted to let go of.

"You remind me of them, Haroth. You remind me of them a great deal. They lacked your willpower and fervor, but their mind was as beautiful as their bodies."

"Use your powers on me, like you did before," Haroth demanded. "Help me... cope with this."

Teryx' drawn-out exhale bode ill for Haroth. "It's easy for me to do that. Even easier to surrender to the temptation of your request. The mind, however, is a fragile thing, and my powers are intoxicating to those who are on the receiving end. Too much, too quick, and you will grow dependent on that soothing feeling, or that invigorating gust that fans the flames of passion. I care about you enough to share this with you. Do not ask me of it again. I can't give you what you want."

Haroth didn't know what he wanted. His whole world unraveled, to the point where he no longer felt like he belonged in it. No shaman had ever banished an alpha before. No alpha had ever sought a dragon's company before willingly surrendering himself to his charm. It almost felt ironic, how Haroth, son of Hrathgar, single handedly shamed the sergals by getting himself banished and his mate marked for death.

For the third time in his life, Haroth felt like crying. The first two occasions marked the bonding to his mate and her swollen belly, and now, the third, marked the loss of not only his mate and child, but of his whole tribe. He wanted to cry, to roar until his throat bled, to let it all out.

But he didn't know how to cry, for this body wasn't his.

Instead, his torn mind switched to something else, a need--no, a craving--to escape the pit of despair in which he dug himself into. He yearned for blissful distraction, for a means to soothe his tattered spirit, if just for a fleeting moment.

Haroth might not have known how to flap his wings, nor could he fully control his overly long tail, but a lick was still a lick, and a kiss was still a kiss, awkward and sudden as it turned out to be.

Teryx' eyes widened. He drew back, licking his snout in a more surprised than salacious way.

"That...was terrible. Dragons don't simply bump their snouts into each other. We start with slow, careful, tantalizing licks."

Teryx proved it to Haroth by dragging his tongue along his jaw, between his nostrils, where he stopped to peer into the alpha's eyes.

"Now lick me."

Haroth did. In the same instant, Teryx' draconic tongue coiled around his, tugging on it, dragging it into his parted jaws. Haroth whimpered in distress, almost certain that the rows of jagged teeth would simply collapse on him.

That didn't come to happen. Teryx let go of him, trilling playfully. "That is how dragons kiss. It's a game of tongues, really."

"It...feels strange," Haroth confessed, licking his snout to alleviate the weird feeling of having his tongue practically seized. "What is the meaning of it?"

"No meaning. We simply enjoy it. Now switch onto your side. I have to show you what other things dragons enjoy before this opportunity is stripped from us."

It felt clumsy--awkward even--for Haroth to expose the pale blue of his belly to Teryx' playful gaze. The other dragon got up, circling the sergal-turned-dragon, absorbing Haroth's features before he snorted in amusement.

A cute sound. A happy sound. One that filled Haroth's bones with petrifying doubt. He envisioned a cute, tender, fulfilling moment, not whatever this was!

"You look too stiff, even for a dragon. Try tucking your forepaws to your chest. Lift that haunch off your marbles. If I want to play with them, I got my own, and they look and feel exactly the same."

Haroth lifted a tentative hind paw, only to slam it back onto the ground when his tail and wings shifted without his consent. A growl of distress left his snarling maw, which Teryx promptly ignored.

"Trouble with the wings, eh? Here, let me give you a helping tongue."

"How would a...mrrrrrrrhh," Haroth hummed as Teryx' lowered his head upon one of his wing joints, bathing it with warm, tingling strokes.

"Controlling your wings is like flexing your back muscles. Focus on my tongue. It will help you pinpoint which muscles to use."

Teryx' weird solution paid off, the caress of his tongue similar to a good massage on a sore or numb limb. It slowly but surely melted the ice formed within Haroth's wing frames, allowing him a measure of control over his wings.

"It will take some time to fully get accustomed to your wings. Hatchlings go through the same training before they learn how to fly."

"Curious," Haroth mused out loud. "I always believed that dragons had innate knowledge of flight."

"Do sergals have innate knowledge of hunting and tracking their quarry? I think not."

Before Haroth had the chance to reply, Teryx stepped over his body, nuzzling and licking at his neck, that dexterous tongue urging Haroth to lay his head back and croon from the pleasant ministrations. That was what he wanted--what he needed. To focus on the warm ribbons of pleasure dispersing through his frame, oblivious to the storm brewing within his mind.

Teryx' snout glided down Haroth's belly, his tongue caressing his draconic hide in ways that made him shudder and his sack tighten at the looming prospect of receiving that tongue upon his cock. Ever the inquisitive dragon, Teryx slipped his snout under Haroth's haunch, pushing it aside so that Haroth's privates lay completely bare before his inquisitive nostrils.

"They look even better from up close," Teryx remarked, flaunting a guilty grin.

Haroth's toes clenched, pressing the sharp tips of the claws into the pads of his feet. He suddenly felt conflicted about surrendering his body to Teryx' whims. The first time it happened, curiosity, together with Teryx' magic, dared him on, but now...now, it was him. Only him.

It's not my body, Haroth's cold logic kicked in, fueled by the pain, shame, and regret churning within him. So long as I am in this form, I belong to Teryx, for I am him.

This new mindset filled him a freedom that the alpha hadn't relished since he attained his elevated rank. As the leader of his people, he always had to put their needs before his; he always had to act according to the will of the Thornridge tribe.

No more. Tonight, Haroth was no longer alpha, but lover to Teryx. Nothing else, nothing more.

Teryx nuzzled his sack a few times, making his orbs bobble in their shelter. Then, he slid his tongue along the opening of his slit, making it tighten, eliciting a lustful growl from Haroth in the process. The teasing embrace of his tongue drew translucent moisture out of Haroth's sanctuary, an action that had both dragons part their maws and growl, Haroth with a soft, needy moan, and Teryx with a sharper, heavier hum. After he lifted his head from between Haroth's legs, Teryx dashed his tongue along his nose a couple of time to taste the scents.

"You're aroused."

Haroth enjoyed the way Teryx looked upon his exposed sex. He seemed eager for another taste, and he dared him on by wiggling his hindquarters. "Shouldn't you show me what that tongue of yours can do?"

Teryx went straight to his slit, licking at it with gusto, giving Haroth not a single moment of respite. Waves of increasing pleasure crashed against his trembling frame, making his toes splay and his wings to stretch far to the sides as his tip emerged from its hideout. Although it only began to harden, Teryx' tongue coiled around the crimson shaft, tugging at it, rumbling in growly amusement as Haroth whipped his head back, unable to block his passionate roar.

"You...didn't see this...coming," Teryx added between his now slow, tantalizing caress along Haroth's cock. "As a fresh new dragon, you get to experience everything for the first time all over again. Isn't it exciting?"

"Can...can you take it slower?" Haroth said, craning his head towards his splayed hind legs, watching his member grow in unison with the fiery pressure that welled within his churning sack. Only a few dashes of Teryx' tongue along his erection, and Haroth was already brought to the brink of orgasm!

Teryx licked his lips. His flaming eyes caught Haroth's gaze for a just a fleeting moment. It was then when Haroth realized that his lover didn't want to talk, but to lick.

And so, Teryx' snout descended upon Haroth's throbbing virgin shaft, blowing hot puffs of air over the taut ridges of receptive flesh lining the base of Haroth's cock. His moistened tongue licked around the tapered head of Haroth's cock, ignoring the rumbling cries rolling out of the dragon's maw, fully in control of Haroth's body. He knew how to lick, where to lick, and also just how sensitive certain parts of a cock were. He rolled his tongue around the fleshy organ like a coiling snake, fueling the hard throbs that made Haroth harder and increasingly sensitive to the slick heat that grabbed his member.

"No...not there...not...the rrrrrridge!" Haroth cried out, sealing his eyes shut to the overpowering pleasure that threatened to engulf him.

Teryx' tongue tip traversed the narrow gaps between each ridge, touching Haroth's most vulnerable and receptive area, teasing him to the point where all Haroth could do was hiss, growl, writhe in absolute delight.

Just when Haroth learned to pant and regulate his breaths, Teryx tugged at his member, inviting Haroth into the paradise of moisture and heat that his maw was.

"Grrrrrrrrr," Haroth's simmering growl sneaked past the tightly sealed jaws of his snarling snout. He shivered with strained bliss, clawing at the air, shifting his tail along the ground while his cock was slowly eased into Teryx's maw. It was wet, silky, and incredibly warm, enough to render even a full grown dragon helpless before the onslaught of heated tingles and raw, unbridled lust.

Haroth blinked a few times to clear to clear his eyes from the haze of delight, then chanced a look at his lover. Teryx's maw revealed itself to him, his pristine teeth exposed by his trembling lips, his fleshy tongue wrapped tightly around the pulsating organ to keep it fully inside. Strands of saliva dribbled down his jaw, mixing with the puddle of lubrication pooled at the base of Haroth's shaft.

He felt exposed before those daunting teeth. Even afraid.

But the warmth of Teryx's maw blotted the rational part of his mind. And that wasn't all! By using his tongue, Teryx guided Haroth towards his gullet, the fleshy muscles there tightening and relaxing around Haroth. Everything that he knew, everything that he had ever felt, paled in comparison to the feeling of a dragon's throat around his shaft. The short, sporadic bobbing motion of Teryx' head only added to his bliss, forcing a crackling roar out of Haroth's throat, along with rapid squirts of pre-seed. Although he fought hard to hold back, Haroth could not deny how good it felt to be fully sheltered inside such warm, wet confines.

With the way Teryx' tongue hardened around his ridges, Haroth doubted he could last more than a few throbs. His cock was bare, defenseless, and most of all, exposed to the whims of Teryx's squeezing tongue and clenching throat. There was no denying that Teryx craved for the taste of seed, judging from the thick spire dangling between his legs. Teryx's tip was dripping with pre-seed and his throbs turned into full swings and jerks of his cock at times, especially when Haroth hurled a jet of precum down his eager gullet.

In the throes of his pleasure, Haroth could do naught but whimper like a hatchling, his voice attaining a high pitched sound, similar to a shrill. The heat kept building inside his shuddering balls, and Haroth's body shivered all the harder when Teryx's forepaws fell upon his haunches. With a quick push, he spread the blue dragon's hind legs apart, rendering his cock completely bare before the greedy suckling of his hungry maw.

Haroth's toes spread just like his wings, sharp and sudden. He threw his head back, jaws trembling with the need for release. He just couldn't last the milking tugs of that tongue any longer, so he unleashed a roar as mighty as the pressure that rushed through his bloating cock. He erupted inside that hot maw like a pent-up geyser. Strings of seed appeared between Teryx's teeth, but that was all he wasted. Teryx's tongue squeezed hard around the base, his lips fell back to protect the precious load, and his throat forced down the entirety of that slick, savory seed. The first taste proved to be more than Teryx could handle as well, for his penis lurched, bathing haroth's belly with terse spurts of aqueous precum.

The smell of arousal and the vibrations traveling along Teryx's maw quickened Haroth's release, keeping him in a state of pent-up arousal, urging him to spend as much seed as he could. Haroth no longer held himself back. He thrust into Teryx's maw, pushing his spurting tip as deep as he could, wanting to leak out as much of his seed as he could into Teryx's maw. Lodged all the way in, the desire to cum became overwhelming.

So Haroth pumped his hips, on and on, ramming his cock into the back of Teryx's throat, working the virile seed right out of his trembling pouch. Throb by throb, spurt by spurt, the heat leaked out along with the dragon's rippling moans, and Teryx suckled and swallowed, trying hard to match the volume of seed thrown into the depths of his maw.

Haroth's climax ended as abruptly as it began. After a few more spurts loaded with scarce seed, his cock began to soften as oversensitivity began to set in. He growled softly from the discomfort brought by Teryx' tongue that still sought to milk him of his seed and kicked at his chest playfully.

Teryx stopped his ministrations. His tongue unraveled, pushing Haroth's cock out, exposing it to the cool air of the cavern. Teryx' maw dribbled with strands of milky dragon essence, but he wasn't interested in cleaning them at the moment.

It was surprising how much he truly swallowed. Aside from a few small puddles littering the cerulean scales around Haroth's sex, Teryx swallowed everything. He dashed his tongue along the oozing cock to make sure it was truly empty, then cleaned the remainders of seed and arousal from Haroth's trembling pouch and slit right under his eyes before rolling his tongue around his own maw to swallow the remainder of Haroth's seed.

Haroth stared at his lover for a moment, then switched his focus towards Teryx's erection. He was still hard, his cock slapping against his belly with every powerful throb that traversed its taut length.

"You're still hard," Haroth murmured as various lewd thoughts roamed through his mind. If Teryx could use his tongue and maw in such exquisite ways to pleasure a dragon, then surely Haroth could do the same. After all, he and Teryx were identical twins.

In looks, at least...

"This isn't about me," Teryx said, straining to keep his lust in check. With slow, elaborate movements, he turned to the mouth of the cavern and began to walk towards it, his member swinging back and forth like a perverse crimson rod.

"W--wait," Haroth said, scrambling to his feet. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you relax, of course. Care to come with me? I know a wonderful place that fits exactly what I have in mind."

Teryx led Haroth outside of the cavern, where a thicket protected its mouth from unwanted attention. Much to his surprise, Haroth realized that Teryx carved his own winding path through the thick vegetation. It led deeper within the mountains, farther than sergals usually ventured, this territory foreign and alluring to Haroth.

He kept close to his friend, his shuffle ungainly, and his wings pressed tight to his back to avoid hitting the boughs and branches that reached towards his overly tall form. It seemed redundant, to leave a perfectly good shelter in favor of another, but he dared not ask Teryx about it until a clearing opened ahead, blanketed by tall, silky grasses and moss clumps at the base of the trees surrounding this patch of paradise.

"Go ahead," Teryx said, patting a bedding of moss adorned with hay strands. "I sometimes come here to clear my head, and nothing is more comfortable to a dragon's wings than moss."

Haroth gave Teryx a skeptical look, but he lounged onto the makeshift bedding all the same, inadvertently purring his delight.

"See? Your dragon body knows best." Teryx remained up on all forms, his eyes scanning Haroth's sprawled form.

"You are such a striking dragon." Teryx bowed his serpentine neck, pressing his snout against Haroth's and nuzzling him gently. "It's a real treat just to look at you."

"Is that why you brought me here? To look at me?"

"Why not? It's a perfectly valid reason."

Haroth growled in disbelief. "After everything that has happened between us, I find that hard to believe."

Teryx sighed. "Fine, gorgeous version of me. I wanted you here because what I have in mind requires you to sit on your back and to be completely relaxed throughout the whole thing."

Instead of waiting for Haroth to reply, Teryx went ahead and bathed Haroth's face with strands of translucent affection, licking all over his face and ears.

Haroth rumbled softly, affectionately. Oh, how he loved the scent and warmth of his friend! He poked his tongue out, sliding it along the patches of pebbly scales that covered Teryx' dainty snout. Teryx, on the other hand, simply nuzzled jaw, descending towards Haroth's neck, where he started licking with short, delicate strokes. His touch was moist, warm, slow, like the murmur of a river, and equally relaxing.

Haroth's tail shivered with every stroke of that calming tongue. Teryx was very thorough, swirling around to make sure every scale got treated properly. He slid down Haroth's exposed chest, then climbed along one of his front paws all the way to the claws, which he cleaned with striking efficiency. Then, he moved lower, towards the bigger and meatier hind legs, where the source of the young dragon's pleasure was located.

Haroth curled his claws inwardly. A bead of translucent precum met his lighter colored belly scales, the virgin dragon's lust coming back with a vengeance. Teryx started licking the inside of his haunch, creating electric webs of hot pleasure in the wake of his gentle tongue.

Haroth took a deep breath, then let it out along with a shuddering moan when that warm snout spread his paw apart. Each of his toes were pulled into Teryx' maw one by one by the agile tongue and dipped into a bath of warm, slick saliva. Haroth's cock tensed harder and harder, pleading for the same kind of attention.

"Mrrraarrrr... lower...Please, lower..." Haroth growled as his limbs shivered with pent-up lust. His body still remember the flood of intense pleasure that washed over him, and all he wanted right now was Teryx to give it to him a second time.

"I still have to tend to your wings, my dear." Teryx slid his tongue along the length of one of Haroth's claws, giving him an infuriatingly smug look. "It won't take long. Remember, patience stokes the pleasure."

That said, Teryx went to work on his wings, running his snout along the thin yet resilient membrane, dabbing his tongue at it every now and then.

Haroth couldn't handle any more teasing. Not as a dragon. Not as a virgin who had his first sexual contact moments ago. Confronted with another opportunity at overwhelming pleasure, he writhed on the ground, kicked at the air, and growled as his sensitive wing membranes pulsated with heated bliss. A dragon's wing was devoid of scales, and that made it very susceptible to stimulation. With every one of Teryx' tantalizing licks, the lustful Haroth became more and more desperate, until his hips thrust his hardening erection against Teryx's chin. The contact sent a sharp surge towards the sensitive cock, causing two squirts of precum to burst out of his tip.

"Raaaahhhhh!" Haroth's maw clattered with unspent desire. "Please...please..." he begged for that blissful tongue to wrap around his cock and draw the fire right out of his tensing sack.

Teryx blinked. He looked towards the dripping member, licking his maw at the appetizing sight laid bare before his eyes.

"It would be my utmost pleasure to feel the rich taste of your seed upon my tongue once again, but before I do so, there is another pleasure I wish to bestow upon you."

"No...no..." Haroth moved his head from one side to the other lethargically, already caught in the fetters of delight. "I'm close...Just a few licks and I'll...I'll..."

His words slowly dispersed as Teryx dragged his tongue over his tailhole. Haroth had no idea what to expect until that warm, lubricated tongue fell upon his sensitive ring of flesh a second time, making it quiver and tense up.

"Graaawrrrr! It...it feels so intense..."

Teryx kept circling the clenching pucker. Sharp spasms made him linger around the edges, and Haroth enjoyed the wet treatment of the swirling tongue right until the moment when it pulled back. His dreamy eyes pushed open, a soft hiss leaving his wrinkled snout.

"More...I want more...why did you stop?"

"Tell me that you liked it, and there will be more. I promise."

Was this one of Teryx' elaborate schemes? Instead of answering, Haroth coiled his tail around Teryx' neck, tugging at him softly, encouraging him to keep going.

Teryx followed his cue, a devious smile spreading along his snout. "I will have to probe deeper. Are you ready for this?"

"Deeper?" Haroth blinked. Sergal custom dictated that no male nor female should insert something into that particular area. That sort of penetration went against tradition, against their beliefs, and that did not take into account the filth that lied therein.

"Yes, my dear dragon. I will taste you like you've never been tasted before."

As soon as he finished speaking, Teryx put his tongue to purpose. Like last time, he circled the puckered area, allowing his saliva to pour down upon the spasming ring of flesh. The curtain of added heat felt so good...Haroth almost forgot about tongues, tailholes, and what not, simply enjoying the tingling pleasure until his muscles parted sideways.

Teryx's tongue delved through the ring of muscles, filling the tunnel of flesh with unexpected heat.

Haroth's muscles immediately clamped around the intrusion. He squeezed around the tongue, holding it in place while his cock grew tougher than stone for a few blissful moments.

Then, he let go, and Teryx drew back to sample the tastes.

"You were quick," he said, warbling in delight.

"What have you done?" Haroth inquired, his frame stiff, his wings and limbs still trembling from that too strange feeling. "You went inside me. You...you pushed your tongue in me!"

"And why not?" Teryx said, flexing his wings to showcase his cool demeanor. "You're not a sergal, but a dragon, which means you are free to sample everything that your new body offers."

That made sense in that strange, Teryx kind of way. The dragon had a sharp tongue and equally sharper wits.

"You are a virgin dragon, untested and inexperienced. You are unaccustomed to this kind of pleasure, so the first time is nothing more than a warm-up exercise for true pleasure." Teryx paused to lick the precum off Haroth's belly while his nostrils inhaled the scents of his virile cock with great pleasure.

"Seed comes from a special place hidden deep within your tailhole. I call it a seed sack, and it is more sensitive to stimulation than even your cock."

Haroth wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of this. He wanted to dismiss it, to tell Teryx that there was no such thing as a seed sack. Instead, he found himself asking, "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to focus on locating the true source of your pleasure. I will lick you again, and this time, try to relax a bit. The deeper I go, the better it will feel. Consider this your next lesson in pleasure, lovely dragon."

Teryx began his lesson with a set of circling motions that soothed the flesh. The spasms rushing through Haroth's tailhole lessened and, with no direct stimulation to his cock, Haroth tried his best to relax his clenching muscles until he felt that slimy tongue enter him yet again.

He bit back the upcoming growl, blocked the clenching instinct, allowing the tongue to slither through his virgin hole like a smooth, slippery eel. He felt his walls shudder under the ripples of stimulation, his cock tightening, and his instinct began screaming at the back at his mind to clamp down upon the intrusive appendage before it was too late. Teryx's tongue grew in girth the deeper it entered, until the pressure exerted upon his anal ring became too itchy to resist.

Haroth clenched, and when he did, a burst of heat rushed through his entire tunnel, forcing his cock to stand at attention. It lasted only for a fleeting moment, yet the pleasure persisted, taunting his cock with the urge to spill its contents.

"Deep...too deep... I feel...Rawwrrrr!" Haroth squeezed his eyes shut as heated tremors banged against his walls. Teryx's tongue tip started wriggling inside him, and with each motion, a new wave of pleasure rushed through a strange spot nestled just a bit farther from the tongue's wriggling tip. Was that that? The source of pleasure Teryx mentioned? Haroth focused on it, and when he did, the pleasure increased tenfold. Each spasm of his muscles felt like molten flames dashing through his sensitive hole.

"Too close!" Haroth growled in sheer awe.

Teryx yanked himself off with a messy slurp. "Did I touch it?"

"What...? Touch what...?" Haroth's cock jerked nervously as it painted more lines of pre-seed across his belly.

"You already know. I can see feel it in the way you pant, in the way you throbbed...I need to lick you a bit more, my dear blue dragon. I wouldn't want your first penetration to be displeasing."

Haroth's tail wrapped around the nearest leg he found. "What are you saying?"

"Just relax. Whatever I do will feel good. I promise."

A promise. That's what Haroth had, along with a dripping cock and a burning desire to ejaculate. He was tempted to just take himself inside his maw for a faster finish, but as soon as that soaked tongue returned upon his tailhole, the dragon's thoughts shifted to the intense pleasure he felt a moment ago. Spreading his legs, he relaxed as much as he could, allowing Teryx to lap at his tailhole like a hungry hatchling tasting his first meat.

The pleasure grew in the same throbbing rhythm as Teryx' cock. It resembled Haroth's cock to perfection, adorned with fleshy ridges towards the base and tapering towards the tip. Haroth licked his snout at the sight of it. The musky smell wafting from the exposed member only served to increase his arousal, along with the messy licks planted by Teryx' tongue. He lapped lapped lapped, each time going slightly deeper, stoking Haroth's rising pleasure.

Teryx pulled out just before his blue companion cried his pleasure to the skies. Four separate spurts oozed from his cock, each cloudier than the last. Both dragons knew what that was. Words did not have to be exchanged when scent already said everything. Haroth closed his eyes. The same tongue that licked his tailhole now slid around his face. He didn't care though. The warmth of a friend felt exquisite, intoxicating almost, and both dragons growled and snarled as their members met, two fleshy poles loaded with fertile seed.

Only, instead of rubbing against him like they did the day before, Teryx crouched. He aimed his tip at Haroth's exposed pucker, then pressed his cock against it until the muscles welcomed him in with a squelch.

"Awwrrr..." Haroth's maw hung open while his insides clenched around the hardened cock.

"So warm...so eager..." Teryx's calm voice washed over his senses just like his tongue, soft and pleasing. "Do what I taught you, my dear blue dragon. Relax. Let me slide in and I will show you how true pleasure feels like."

Haroth moaned. That was all he could do when his whole body felt on the verge of being torn apart. Having a cock inside his tailhole felt at least three times more intense than the feeble licks from before. A cock was harder, hotter, more stimulating. It was made to penetrate, sliding like a slimy eel through the trembling corridor.

Haroth clenched hard and quick. He couldn't relax with something so big inside him. Each motion triggered innate safeguards that acted before he could think, so he squeezed with all his strength, serving only to increase Teryx' rising pleasure.

"Almost there..." he pushed himself a bit further, spreading Haroth's tailhole farther apart as more of his erection slid in. "Almost there, my dragon, almost there..."

Haroth growled, snapped his jaws, beat his wings as his virgin muscles welcomed more cock inside their embrace. The ridges, although they seemed daunting, provided Haroth with bursts of intense pleasure, a sharp yip escaping him every time a new hardened ring of flesh entered him.

The hard throbs of Teryx' cock sent quakes along his muscles, prompting them to squeeze as hard as they could, a useless endeavor that could not keep that hard, throbbing beast from making its way deeper inside.

Haroth thought he tasted it all. That having Teryx lodged so deep within him was the epitome of delight.

He couldn't be more wrong than that. When Teryx pushed his cock just a bit more inside, his head slid along a small, pebble-like surface. It seemed insignificant. Out of place even.

But that short contact filled Haroth with more pleasure than he could ever contain within his tensing body. His whole form seized up. Wings popped in their joints, stretching as far as their span allowed. His legs flexed into the air, spreading their clawed toes to their limits. Haroth's maw, too, snapped shut, his teeth grinding against one another. Even air refused to enter his nostrils as his whole body froze under the throes of crackling pleasure.

"I found it, didn't I?" Teryx said, yet his words soon faltered within the vortex of pleasure that threatened to engulf Haroth.

Haroth drew in a sharp breath, holding it in his chest as that big hot cock pressed against his special place once again. Why did it feel so good? Why? The poor dragon could only snort a sharp onrush of air as the cock's tip slid over the seed sack like a hot tongue sliding over his cock.

Teryx growled. He put his tongue to use, licking Haroth's head while his cock slid back and forth through the tense tunnel, his tapered top stimulating the erogenous spot in ways no sergal thought possible. Haroth couldn't even breathe from how intense this felt. His cock hardened like a pole, ridges flaring, balls clenching, tailhole remaining locked around the invading cock in a vicious embrace. Only the pounding beats of his heart were loud enough to pass through the haze of pleasure that blanketed his senses, beating inside his ears like the drums of war, then slowly making their way along his belly to fill his cock with blood and lust.

Tremendous pressure was locked within his sack. Haroth tried to keep it caged, yet with each nudge Teryx administered to his seed sack, his resolve began to falter. Haroth tensed, and tensed, feeling the pleasure build up within him like a raging volcano until the tethers holding back his release broke like a loose river.

Hot seed coursed through his cock, heated by Teryx' caress of that special little place deep within Haroth. Teryx's cock kept rubbing, and rubbing, and rubbing, scratching that overly sensitive seed sack. Haroth tensed harder than ever. Drops of stray seed dribbled from his cock. He felt so pent-up that even releasing felt like a huge burden. The overwhelming stimulation kept his seed at bay, all thanks to that horny Teryx who teased him to the far edge of oblivion. His cock rubbed faster along the seed sack's surface, increasing the heat to a smoldering blaze. Then, when Haroth's special place sizzled with immeasurable pleasure, the abused seed sack unleashed a quaking spasm that pushed the seed right out of his stiff, eager cock.

Haroth choked on his roar. He burst like a geyser, unleashing a thick, heavy line of hot, thick seed. Air hardly entered his throat. Relief seemed a distant promise.

Yet the wild throbs kept pumping the heat out of him, causing his cock to spasm and spurt its scalding essence.

Teryx growled with need. He shifted his attention towards the oozing cock and tried to take it inside his maw, yet the distance was too great, so instead he let his tongue loose and his jaws open, catching the streams right as they came.

Haroth didn't care one bit where or what he was hitting with his jets. All he felt was the heat of his muscles as they clamped down upon the cock trapped inside his tailhole. Having such tight and muscular girth trapped within him added an extra edge to the spurts. He felt the seed right as it came out, oozing from his sensitive seed sack, traversing his shaft, then escaping through his tapered tip in sharp, messy spurts. Haroth tensed hard whenever that happened. His wings furiously beat the grass while his legs grabbed whatever they could, claws curling and scratching along Teryx' hardened scales.

It felt overpowering, to release so much, so quickly. His cock bloated before every spurt, a dripping, glistening, messy rod that spat its heavy load without any particular aim. Sometimes the jet of seed took Teryx in the snout, other times a spurt painted Haroth's belly with a load of fertile essence. No dragon cared too much where it went. As the air became heavy with the smell of seed, their growls and roars mixed into a cacophony of lust filled sounds. Each was after his own interest, each throbbing in their own way: Haroth trying to spend the entirety of his seed, and Teryx trying to find the way to his own peak inside Haroth's spasming insides.

Teryx began thrusting short and quick, his haunches shuddering visibly, his features contorting in a mask of pure bliss. The rhythmic shudders creeping through Haroth's insides massaged his cock from all sides and angles, and the warmth of bare flesh molding around his member merely contributed to Teryx' faltering resolve. As much as he tried to keep in control and remain hard for Haroth's sake, pleasure found a way past his mental barriers, causing Haroth's lover to erupt inside him with the might and suddenness of a volcano.

Stars speckled Haroth's vision. His breath hitched for a moment, the scalding spurts that exploded within his vulnerable depths demanding all of his attention. Squeaks and squawks of various intensities broke loose from Haroth's limp maw, the dragon stunned by these too strange, too intense sensation that fettered his senses.

Teryx pushed his cock balls deep into Haroth, roaring his elation to the skies, his ridges flaring in unison with the rich jets of seed he unleashed into Haroth's cavity. Both of the dragons screwed their eyes shut, riding the waves of pleasure, savoring the union of their bodies.

"Awwrrrhh...aaarrhh..arrrr..." Haroth's throat vibrated with the finality of his blissful climax. His eyes were all teary and moist. After he cleared his vision, he noticed Teryx's messy tongue lapping at the small puddles formed on his belly.

"Leave it," he said, too spent to care about the mess they have made.

Teryx turned to face Haroth, and by the heavens, was he messy! His jaw supported a good number of seed strings, his teeth housed small blobs between them, and his tongue was dribbling worse than a cock. Teryx slurped the excess into his maw, then cleaned the seed icicles dangling from his chin as best as he could with the help of a paw.

"Happy now?"

"No," Haroth growled. "How can you have enough stamina left to care about these insignificant details?"

"That, my dear, is a trait specific to us dragons, one that you have to develop."

Teryx pulled his member out of Haroth, each of the ridges eliciting sharp growls from Haroth. They were still hard, and his flesh so sensitive still! His spent cock tensed up, hardening for the briefest of moments, until Teryx' girth fled his abused cavity. Rivulets of seed followed in his wake, slithering out of his tailhole, dribbling along the base of his tail and haunches. Teryx wanted to lick him there, but Haroth curled his tail inwards, protecting his tailhole from his lover's lascivious tongue.

"Not now. Not yet. Not after...everything."

Now that clarity began to return to him, his mind felt numb and his body overly stiff. It all seemed surreal, to enjoy the pleasures of a dragon body, and to break the sergal tradition by allowing Teryx to claim his tailhole as his.

"You have doubts," Teryx said as he lowered himself next to Haroth, stretching a protective wing over his form. "It's a natural reaction, Haroth, one that spares no being, regardless of rank and species. I never expected to save you. Not when I found you half dead. You didn't expect to wake up as a dragon either, but you did, for I, somehow, found you just in the nick of time."

"I thought you had it under control, that you know everything that moves on this island."

Teryx snorted in amusement. "Hardly. I wouldn't have let things escalate if such. I wouldn't have let you come so close to dying..."

His words faltered, and his gaze grew distant. Only Haroth's nuzzle restored the fire within his eyes.

"I called your name, you know. I should've spoken my mate's name, but for some reason, my last thoughts fled to you. I had nothing left, and I was dying, and in that very moment, all that I wanted was to see you--to see my friend--one last time."

Teryx growled softly, caressing Haroth's neck with a forepaw and licking at his snout idly while he delved back into his pensive state. Haroth would have liked to help keep his morale up, but just like in Teryx' case, shock caught up to him, along with the full realization of what transpired this day.

***THE END OF PART 2***

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