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**Breaking the Jockey

By: VeronicaFoxx

For: Revakulgr**

The black-scaled dragon wriggled himself deeper into the warm sand of the lounging room that connected to the locker area and let out a contented growl. His usual rider was on maternity leave for the next few months due to the clutch of eggs that swelled her midsection, but he wasn't terribly upset with that. The temporary jockey that they'd provided for this race was a very adequate substitute. The small mouse fem was light and intuitive, leaning into his turns and holding tight on dives; in short, she was an expert dragon rider. He was very happy with her performance and his own.

The only thing that rankled slightly was that he had become used to far more intimate attentions from Rain after a race. His human had come to accept her place atop his cock as much as she accepted her place in the saddle atop his back, and after three races without the expected release afterward, he was starting to get a little grumpy. Not that the mouse didn't give absolutely top notch service, scrubbing down his scales and massaging out the little knots in his muscles that always developed during any workout, but victory deserved its just rewards, and he wasn't getting his.

Of course... Well, there was a sizeable population, including almost everyone within the racing community, that knew he'd bred his partner, particularly after the livestream he'd done of their locker room mating. So, the little fem should probably expect that she'd need to provide him with more than the standard post-race rubdown. At the very least, she could help him rub one out, even if that was far less satisfying than other methods.

He reached out a clawed forelimb to stroke a digit down her spine as she scrubbed at his stomach scales, earning himself a grin at the gentle affection. Then he did it again, using the backs of his digits, letting the softer scales there feel the downiness of her silken fur. Quite pleasant, and it would feel even better against something far more sensitive. With a rumble and a grin of his own, Revakulgr decided to give in to temptation and allowed his maleness to poke free from his genital slit, the reddish-pink flesh giving off a musky, masculine aroma that she was sure to take note of.

The pesky rodent did indeed take notice, but only grimaced and averted her eyes instead of providing him with the attention he had deservedly earned. That earned her a warning growl, to which she only perked up her translucent pink ears and gave him a questioning glance.

"Well?" he demanded. "Are you going to take care of that?"

"Um..." she sputtered, glancing between his cock and his eyes, seemingly at a loss. "You want me to wash it?"

"Well, you can start with that. A little tongue work wouldn't go amiss, either, and make sure to get some good pressure with your hands. I like a tight squeeze, especially around the knot. Hm. Maybe wrap your tail around behind to tug. Might be fun."

"Oh, for... they told me, they warned me, and I should have listened, but adding a prime mount like you to my resume with a few wins was worth it, I thought. I should have known better." She stood and threw down the cloth she had been using, stomping a furless foot against the sand. "Well, I'm not standing for that. Find yourself a new jockey, pervert!"

Oh, now that just wouldn't do. As she turned to go, he snapped out his talons to encircle her waist, easily lifting the tiny female to hover before his fanged muzzle. "In that case, I suppose you're expendable."

Her alarmed expression turned further terrified, but he wrapped his other foreclaws around her head to muffle any complaints she might make. He slid her back to stroke himself along her back, then against her stomach, and purr-growled happily. She was just as soft as advertised, and he was quite intent on getting the pleasurable reward that he was used to. And besides, she had quit on him. What more use was she aside from some physical stimulation if she wasn't going to be helping him win races any longer? So he stroked her against himself, front and back, slick upper side and ridged underside, letting her feel what she was in for.

She was about two thirds the size of his human, and he knew how tightly Rain could grip him when in the throes of passion. The little mouse was going to be even tighter, and he grinned toothily at her flailing form before positioning himself at the entrance between her legs. She screamed loud enough to be heard through his muffling grasp when he began pressing into her, her kicking legs falling still and spreading wide in an effort to relieve the pressure that his entrance caused. He could barely fit the tip, though its pointed shape helped to wedge her open for him. She let out another yelp when the rim of his head slid past her entrance, providing a momentary slimming of his shaft, though he wasn't going to content himself with that.

Far from it, he began sliding her lower, slowly feeding his comparatively massive shaft into her. On the outside, it had reached past her sternum, and he never accepted less than a knotting when he plumbed a female's depths. Unfortunately, he didn't think the rodent would survive, but that wasn't his problem. With her resignation came lifted responsibility for any medical costs, particularly since he didn't plan to leave any evidence of his playtime. He did want it to last, though, so he only fed half of himself into her.

That in itself took a bit of work, and he had to give her a few good slams to burst his tip past her cervix and invade her womb. Then he was able to use her like a masturbatory aid, although one that bled rather annoyingly onto the scales of his groin. He'd have to wash himself off afterwards before it became all sticky. Still, it was an acceptable sacrifice. She convulsed and squeezed around him quite pleasantly, even though he had to clench his talons a bit more firmly than he'd like around her head to keep her pained cries muffled. He could also feel the bulge his shaft made through the flesh of her stomach as he stroked himself in and out, and added to the pressure by squeezing at her midsection.

That had the unfortunate side effect of forcing out yet more tacky red to stain the sand beneath him, but he could always take care of that afterwards. When the tension in his groin had grown close to its peak, he gave her a few more hard slams. The first earned him a gurgle and set her limbs to flailing once more as he broke her further, feeding himself into her up to the knot. The second was accompanied by a sharp crack as he shattered her pelvis, which let the third one sink his knot into her. He could feel her heart beating next to the tip of his cock as he let out a muted roar, blasting her full of seed that gushed out between the clawed digits encircling her head in a pink-tinged flood.

He was quite satisfied and pulled his claws away to watch the severely damaged rodent as she sat impaled on him, even going so far as to flex his shaft a few times, watching her lolling head bob. It was up for grabs whether she'd suffocate or bleed out first, but he wasn't really into necrophilia. It was, however, quite fun to play with his food.

He curled his hindquarters up and over so that she dangled above him, then neatly snipped off her arms as appetizers, followed by her legs. She was fading quickly by that point, so he fed her into his maw, her head just barely tickling his throat, and gently closed his mouth behind her. Careful of his fangs, he peeled her free of his shaft so that she lay along his tongue, leaking out a mixture of his potent seed and her lifeblood. The coppery tang paired quite well with the saltiness of his essence, and he rolled her around his mouth to savor the flavor, her limp tail dangling from his muzzle.

And that was how Rain found him. "Rev! What the ever-living fuck are you doing?" the human demanded to know.

He hastily rolled onto his feet and garbled out, "Eee wig!"

Realizing that talking with his mouth full was both unintelligible and considered rude in polite society, he gave the rodent a few good crunches before swallowing her down, slurping the tail up like a spaghetti noodle.

"She quit," he advised in a much more dignified manner. "I need a new jockey, preferably one who isn't going to balk at riding a dragon properly."

"Oh for the love of... God, Rev, just... ugh, clean yourself up... Please, please clean all of this up. We really don't need any more bad press after the last time."

He ruffled his wings in an approximation of a shrug and toddled off to the showers.

The End