Yasha's Nails
I looked down upon our nest, the collection of tangled blankets and feather pillows that never really matched. I could see the evidence of our livesâ€"my long, auburn hairs clinging to pillows and his baby blue scales scattered here and there from shedding; it was the scales I collected.
I took my treasures to the side room in our caverns. Salvaged shelves lined the naturally eroded walls, filled with purchased tomes of magic and containers of ingredients. Beeswax candles flickered wherever I was able to put them, mostly melted to the top of jutting stones. At the back of the room was my work table, a gift from the academy when I had told them of my new life; the council had been quite eager to give me anything I needed, though it was probably out of fear of the dragon that claimed me.
Hearing Ryuu's singing echoing from somewhere deeper in the cave, I worked slowly and carefully. I boiled the scales in an attempt to soften them and ground them with mortar and pestle, pounding in time with the deep dragon voice. I sprinkled the resulting blue powder into a boiling mixture of deer fat and corn oil, turning the nearly clear concoction an almost perfect match to my mate's scales. However, this was not the color I sought. With a few spell words of love, I sprinkled powdered red rose petals in to get a lovely purple that favored the blue. The fire out, I let the substance thicken as I looked over my notes, occasionally stirring cups full of mineral water from the hot spring to make the mixture more workable. When it was ready, I poured the viscous liquid into a ceramic pot, stuck a small paint brush into it, and sought out my mate.
I found him in the hot spring, relaxing his sore muscles from his morning flight and hunt. Bright blue eyes lazily opened to watch me approach, and a hungry smile indicated that he liked the way my cloak danced openly around my otherwise naked body. As I knelt at the edge of the steamy spring, he approached me, pushing through the hot water. As I set the pot of purple mixture on the smooth floor, he reached up and plucked the clasp of my cloak with his claws. He pushed it from my shoulders, the flesh of his palms exciting my skin. I shivered as the cloak fell and shook out my hair so that it hung comfortably down my bare back.
"What do you have here?" he asked, his attention turned to the rose-smelling pot.
"A paint," I answered as I settled on the edge, my calves and feet in the soothing water.
"What for?" he asked. He left the pot alone, favoring my legs with his claws. I spread them and let him nuzzle my soft thighs.
"For my nails."
"Your claws?" he repeated as he took my hand. His serpentine tongue danced over each nail on my fingers. "For these?" He then lifted one of my feet and repeated the process, drawing a squeal and flinch from me when he tickled my toes with his tongue. "And these?" I only nodded in answer and lay back as he began to massage my foot.
Tension flowed out of me as he worked my overused feet. Every press of his fingers into my flesh made me want to moan and sigh, and when he pressed his lips into the eased places, I did not know whether to laugh or groan. I had not known how sensitive my feet were until he had got a hold of them. Then there was the stone; he had a perforated stone he kept by the bath that he often used to help shed old and damaged scales. He took that stone now and scrubbed gently at each hard spot on my soles. Under his special care, not only did my feet become soft again but so did my body.
I began to doze, barely aware of him drying my feet with a cloth. Then I felt the paint brush carefully touching. "Lovely," he sighed a few minutes later. Opening my brown eyes, I lifted a foot to see he had spread the paint over my toenails.
"They will have to dry," I told him as I turned to lie out beside the spring. Without having to be asked, he joined me and began to massage my hands as he had my feet. I was relaxed in seconds, focused entirely on the feel of him stroking, pulling, kissing, and even licking my palm and fingers. Then the brush was used, my fingernails made up like my toenails.
When he was done, I pouted up at him. Her was my naked anthro-dragon knelt beside me, and I could not touch him because of wet nails. I wanted so much to touch him. Instead I whispered, "Touch me, pet."
"As you wish, my lady," he sighed, sounding too pleased to do so. His starting touch was light as his fingers brushed over my feet, teased my ankles, slid up my firm calves; I moaned when he kneaded the tense muscles there before moving on to my knees. Instead of fingers here, though, he brought his mouth into play, sending pleasure pulsing up my thighs to my core with each kiss to the sensitive skin in the bend. I gasped and shivered as his tongue flicked and his fangs nipped. I squirmed, wanting more.
His claws scrapped up my inner thighs but stopped short of where I was growing damp and hot. I could feel my petals blooming, my skin tingling as aroused blood filled them. I wanted him to touch me, to taste me, to do something to ease the urges. Yet, I could not bring myself to command him, for even as I thought of it, he moved over my body to kiss me silent.
I began to raise my hands to stroke his wings before I remembered my wet nails. With a frustrated whimper, I clenched my fingers before laying out my hands again. I could feel his lips smirking against mine before his tongue teased and invaded. I suckled on the slender, flexible appendage, struggling to keep from clutching at his horns.
He took the need away from me by tearing away from the kiss and biting into my neck. Pain and pleasure surged from his fangs as I arched and cried out, clawing at air. I may as well have been bound as he marked me. Leaving his bruise and licking away the sting, he moved down to my heavy breasts, suckling like a babe at my nipple. I sighed, relaxing, the slow tasting more of a gentle pleasure. However, a nip to each tight bud had me gasping and on edge again before he dragged his claws down my quivering stomach. He guided my willing thighs apart and buried his face into my fur and flesh.
I nearly screamed when his tongue coaxed my jewel from its hiding place. My hips bucked, my juices flowed, my entire body tensed, and pleasure filled me unbearably until my moans were too breathy to be heard. Claws pushed into my passage, urging me further, stealing my breath as my body shuddered. I felt like I would shatter.
Then I came down and found him smiling down at me. He had moved to kneel beside me and was sliding his strong, scaled arms under me. I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, laid my head on his shoulder, and let him carry me into the water. He kissed me and somehow held me up as he washed my body. When I remembered my nails, I noticed they had dried and were sparkling with his magic simple because I used his scales.
I drew my fingers along his jaw. His scales really brought out the blue in the paint. I could not help but do what I loved bestâ€"touch himâ€"and the paint on my nails made it all the more erotic. I could really watch my fingers dance over every scale, tease each soft place such as his lips and ears. I used one finger to circle one nipple and then the other, watching them tighten and feeling him arch and strain. His claws were at my back, and the pleasure-pain of their scratching warmed me as I bent to lick, suck, and bite at his nipples. His taste was perfect, meaty and tangy from sweat. His moans rang in my ears.
When I pulled away, he helped me sit on the edge again, but I did not let him between my thighs as he wanted. I shook my head and pushed him back until I could put a foot on his stomach. I felt his muscles tense under my tenderized feet, and his scales felt almost too good as I slid both feet up to his chest. I wiggled my painted toes over his nipples and even went as far as to pinch them before I moved my feet down again. Though I could not enjoy the sight, I could imagine how sexy my painted toes looked as they wiggled and stroked over his thick, full cock emerged from its sheath. His closed eyes, tossed back head, and gasping moans told me he loved it.
I teased him too much. "Please," he begged, looking as though he was barely controlling himself. His bright eyes were hungry and determined, almost dangerous, but I knew that he was under my control, that he was mine heart, body, and soul.
My answer was to lower my feet and open my legs. His hands were shaking as he touched my thighs, stroked up to my hips as he moved forward. I gasped as his hard shaft slid along my open nether lips, finding the nectar I had already spilled. Each thrust had his head brushing over me engorged bed, evoking moan after moan. Yet it was not until he aligned himself and surged forward into my tightness, stretching me with a warm sting but filling me so pleasantly, that his own moans joined my shuddering chorus.
He tried to go slow as I clutched at his shoulders. However, I wanted more. "Faster...harder..." and he answered immediately in his movements, pounding against my cervix and sending shock after shock into my nerves. Higher and higher he pushed me in my pleasure until I was trembling, gasping, and clenching in orgasm. So much pleasure, and he was not letting me stop, having only stopped his thrusts to enjoy my milking before he surged hard and deep again. I kept clenching, kept trying to pull his seed from him, and I could not control it. If I'd had claws of my own, I would have been tearing at his scales; even his claws were threatening to pierce the skin of my hips.
Now it was my turn to beg as I began to feel my body weaken. I could not take the intensity anymore; I felt like I could not go on. "Please...I need you...your seed...cum!" I gasped, barely getting the words out as his head brushed over that rough spot inside me. "Now!" I commanded, wrapping my legs around his hips and tightening as I pressed my fingers into his shoulder as tight as I could. I intentionally clenched my body around him and heard him groan. He thrust, practically opening my cervix and spilling his pulsing hot seed into me. Only then did I feel I could relax again.
Exhausted, I fell back slowly onto the floor, dropping my legs and arms from him. I felt him pull out, a mix of relief and disappointment coming from the scraping feeling. I watched him drag himself out of the water. "Don't," I protested as he tried to pick me up, but for once he did not listen. Though I could feel his body shaking, his steps stumbling, as he carried me, he took me to the nest and laid me down like a fragile treasure. That was when he collapsed beside me.
Satisfied and utterly loving the dragon-anthro beside me, I forced myself to roll over and cuddle up in the curve of his arm. "I love you," I whispered, kissing his shoulder because I did not have the energy to pull myself over him.
"I love you too," he answered me. "We'll have to do this again." He lifted touched the hand I had laid over his chest, teasing my painted nails. "But next time, I want to paint your body."