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"Asserting Dominance"

a Guild Wars 2 fanfiction

for GhostKing on FurAffinity

by dolphinsanity

~~~~~~~

"So that's it?" the strange entity asked Tribune Rytlock Brimstone, practically chuckling out the question in his amusement. "You need someone to help perpetuate the image that you're a dom? When you're really a sub."

The creature used a deep, authoritative voice despite his whimsical demeanor. By tone, he wasn't criticizing -- just making sure he had heard the request correctly.

Rytlock's expression took a turn for the doubtful as he eyed this red-scaled oddity that his revenant powers had summoned from the Mists -- a draconic creature, no less, appearing in the flesh and not merely as a voice in his mind.

Lumus King, as the entity had called itself, was technically a half dragon, hailing from another reality entirely. He had a stout build, with fat disguising the muscles beneath, and an exuberant goldenrod mane (matching his eyes). The hair draped amply to his shoulders and merging visually with his beard, which was done up in a trio of lush braids. Two slenderer, more intricate braids handled his dangling side locks as they hung down upon his pectorals. While mainly red of scales, he was more of a desaturated pink along his snout, chest, and belly, as well as on the softer membranes of his wings and inner earlobes. His tail tip resembled a teardrop or a single-pointed leaf. He was casually naked and not shy about it in the least, though also not calling any attention to the fact.

As for Rytlock the charr -- he was fully armored in his typical silvery half-plate, complete with its massively spiked pauldron over the left shoulder. He wore nothing but a loincloth besides, tucked away as a last line of modesty under the armor. His golden eyes, chocolate brown fur, and fiery red mohawk distinguished his appearance.

"I said what I said," Rytlock gruffed at Lumus.

Lumus smiled broadly. The man didn't look like a sub, just to eyeball him -- but that was part of why personal preferences could be so surprising, was it not? And that in turn was why this unique summons had been executed, from the privacy of the tribune's personal office. A request for a very special service: someone to be him, differently, for a while.

The half dragon made a small giggle at Rytlock's shy lack of further elaboration. "How could I refuse a request like this? I'll do it!"

"You're awfully bubbly about it," the charr commented, starting to sound doubtful. "You're_sure_ you can pull this off?"

Lumus smirked and laughed heartily. "Hoo boy...! With a body like yours, in a culture like yours? This job couldn't be easier. And trust me, I might seem all fun-and-games now, but I'm a great actor, double-so when I'm costumed for confidence." He pointed at Rytlock's physique. "I couldn't ask for a better costume than that." He clearly wasn't talking about Rytlock's armor, but about the hunky and virile charr physique that he had honed over his long career. "Besides, you smell nice."

Rytlock quirked a brow but seemed to believe the earnest tone. "Well, just so you know, I've dealt with 'entities' before. So, ground rules... we do this cooperatively, or not at all."

Lumus nodded his agreement. "Wouldn't have it any other way. I want to feel what it is to be you."

Rytlock nodded, and that was deal enough for Lumus. The half dragon approached, embracing the charr around the waist and taking a deep, appreciating sniff of the scent along his midriff and higher. It was a pungent thing, far from the low-key daintiness of some manicured domestic kitty. It was the sweat and pheromones of a bestial warrior.

Sniffing wasn't a necessary part of the process, but it was an optional side trip that Lumus simply had no intention of missing here. He was about to become this...blatant stud for the day and wanted to know what he smelled like to someone else.

He smelled healthy. Older. Experienced. All sorts of promising things that made Lumus's tail sway.

With that mental note made, he smiled and looked up at the charr, their eyes meeting as Lumus's hands felt him up, higher.

The half-dragon's fingers turned translucent, phasing into Rytlock's chest. After a moment, the rest of him followed suit -- the etherealized dragon stepping into Rytlock's flesh and turning to orient himself in the same way the charr was facing.

He began to feel big... muscular... so bulky. Digitigrade and with that long, swishing counterweight behind him. Big-skulled and long-jawed, with a sensitive nose to which his own musk was just another feature of the world of strong smells that was the Black Citadel of the charr... some scents organic, but many industrial. Smoke, molten metal... the distant clang of someone working an anvil. They blinked, and Lumus saw as Rytlock saw -- keen, predatory vision, prone to zeroing in on a target. The reached up, running a large hand over the length of one of their menacing horns.

"Mmm, not bad," said Rytlock's voice a moment later, if quietly, under Lumus's control. "You sure you aren't up for getting whisked away to some other world? I know of a few that would appreciate you very much just as you are."

Rytlock's reluctance was palpable on their nerves, if not verbally expressed.

"All right, just thought it'd offer," said Lumus. "Now let's get out there and see what the dommy new Rytlock can do to put those rumors about you to bed."

* * *

Rytlock's workday as a tribune passed with ordinary slowness at first. Lumus leaned into the charr's memories and subconscious advice, getting through the boring bits without much fuss. Even then, he noticed a few people taking silent note of his sterner demeanor. One subordinate asked if he was having a bad day, a query which the "Domlock" persona answered with a hard stare and a facial expression suggesting that he obviously was but had no intention of showing weakness to his inferior at this time. The subordinate took the hint and didn't pry further.

While Lumus didn't want to push Rytlock too far into the ice-cold loner-dom stereotype, the tribune's reputation around the Citadel was such that the occasional harsh moment would help to offset the too-many times he had been seen as "softer" of late. Thoroughly experienced at possession and social games, Lumus did his best to hit every such opportunity with the right mix of confidence, approachability, and unapproachability, within the context of the highly competitive charr culture.

Eventually, however, they encountered the reason Rytlock had gone out of his way to summon help in the first place: a certain Ash legion scout, currently "on leave" within the citadel, who had been "idly" spreading rumors about Rytlock's secret habit of going head-down-and-tail-high for other men.

Rytlock had already surmised that the scout was not on leave, but on an operation to foment doubt about Rytlock's fitness as a tribune, and that every person he chose to engage with for the rumor mill was calculated. Among high-ranking charr, this wasn't unreasonable paranoia, but a routine part of everyday life. It would almost be scarier if there really wasn't anyone trying to take him down... annoying as they could be, their vicious digging for the truth that_had_ helped keep the citadel safe over the years.

The scout was in ordinary town clothes, little more than a loincloth and some leather straps, with a bandolier holding a single dagger for presumed use as a kitchen knife as needed. He was almost conspicuously unprepared-looking.

So when they overheard him murmuring to another charr about various have-you-heards -- with the topic soon drifting to the lurid verbal images about Rytlock mewling_for an inferior, yet _bigger Blood Legion officer that he called 'Sire' -- Lumus piloted his burly puppet forward, eager to step in.

To Rytlock's recollection, that story was a slanderous distortion of the truth, utterly failing to capture why the tribune loved that man. And he had never called anyone "Sire" but his biological father, which was a topic that seldom came up.

"I have to run along now," he overheard as they got closer -- rounding into the alleyway behind a small foundry where the conversation was happening -- "but I'll be sure to tell my warband the latest."

"Yes, _do_tell," said the Ash scout, "and let me know if you hear anything juicy."

The co-opted charr chuffed in disdain. It was time for the new and improved "Domlock" to go to work.

Lumus could feel Rytlock's hesitation in the background as they padded toward the agent with heavy, nonchalant steps -- not making eye contact, as if not having overheard him. The agent turned formally and performed a fist-to-chest salute, nodding in the presence of a known superior and awaiting his attention should it fall upon him.

The tribune passed by him as if not even noticing -- until the last instant, when his left arm extended open-palmed across the man's abdomen. Domlock took a lunging forward step from there, grabbing him and turning to push his back firmly up against the foundry's exterior wall.

The agent presented a silent look of angry surprise, which the tribune ignored. He scooted in uncomfortably close, finding the man's dagger and casting it onto the ground. From there, he forced the man to compromised half-squat, before hooking his right elbow around the man's head and giving him a humiliating whiff of the hair beneath his arms.

...A whiff which he seemed bent on not taking, trying not to breathe as he spoke: "You needn't do that, sir. I would never draw dagger against a tribune."

Rytlock's voice dipped deeper and more menacing than usual. "Funny that you say that while stabbing my reputation in the back. Wanna say again to me what you were saying to your little bird there?"

The agent had to inhale now, seeming to grimace slightly as he took in Rytlock's musky and now pissed-off scent. Lumus could feel his host sweating, heart pounding like he was ready for a fight. This body was an adrenaline monster.

"Sir... they were an off-duty Blood Legion member. Nothing more."

Domlock tightened his "hug," stuffing that nose fully into his pit, and roughed him backward against the wall, telling him flatly, "So what you're telling me is, Ash is spreading lies among my men."

"I-I don't know if he was one of your direc-cck!!"

Despite the cutoff word, the man wasn't being choked. Suffocated, maybe, but not choked. Domlock had put him in a position of having no air to breath but a tiny pocket in the deepest, wettest grooves of his underarm. It served the little shit right.

"The smell from this foundry is overpowering... a greenhorn like you should keep your head down. Those fumes rise, you know."

The grappled Ash was then pressed to his knees, while the sound of hot metal being poured could be heard from the smelters behind the wall.

Domlock's codpiece hit the ground quietly, landing on a burlap sack. He tugged the loincloth underneath and grinned, half snarling, at the agent while looking over him. Beckoning him even closer with one low finger, a gleam in his eye.

"What's wrong? Don't like what you see? I could give you a blindfold... got plenty of experience with that. Or maybe teaching the world a whole new way of magic wasn't _clout_enough for you piss-poor excuses for a rumor mill."

The agent looked up at him in total confusion. "W-welcome back, Tribune Rytlock. I guess."

The still incredulous tone wasn't good enough. He grabbed the man by the horns and hauled his face in, forcing the feline snout under the loincloth and up against his heavy, musky balls.

"Sniff," he told him.

The agent did so reluctantly.

"Again. What, are you not yet a proper charr? Do I need to send you back to the fahrar?"

The humiliated agent inhaled more deeply.

"Now,there you are... manly breaths for a good legionnaire. Keep breathing... you might learn something." After a few moments more he sneered and asked, "What's your intelligence report say about my balls, soldier?"

Dutifully, as though trying to admit defeat without sounding downtrodden, the scout said, "They smell foul, sir. Like you haven't bathed in weeks."

"Heh, and why might that be, soldier? Maybe because I'm busy doing work and not skulking around sowing dissection and sucking cock."

"I do not suck cock, sir."

"Well_that's_ unfortunate. Because as the ranking tribune in this alleyway, I'm going to be requiring that of you right about now. Since I'm so 'foul' down there, you're going to clean me. But if you don't suck cock, you might be behind the curve... who knows what kind of bad word might reach your superiors, eh? It'd be a shame if their little game was outed."

Eyes full of as much hate as he could muster, the agent started suckling the tribune's balls, working over them slowly with the tongue. But it was halfhearted, not only in intention but in skill and effort. It was not the pleasure it should be.

Domlock told him, "You know this is part of the job. I can tell you're madder about being wrong than about servicing a superior. Seen that look a hundred times. You think you're the first upstart that's tried to fuck with me? You think_you're_ gonna be the guy?"

As if to spite him, the agent started trying. At this, Domlock slowly breathed -- growled, possessor and host alike enjoying the sensation. Charr were gifted with uniquely strong and capable tongues... having one's nuts groomed_skillfully_ by them, it didn't get much better than that.

Their member grew ragingly hard in response -- and soon they were enjoying having their cock slurped, too. Lumus enjoyed the hot rush of blood into that girthy charr cock... Rytlock's was quite a specimen, and the agent was having trouble with getting enough tongue to work over it fully.

Though, Lumus was getting some other ideas for how to take this to the next level. The species had some seriously dark instincts that he could lean into. He could feel Rytlock behind him, enjoying the pleasure but embarrassed on behalf of his kind at just how rough it was sometimes necessary to get with them.

Maybe we can still make this a little happier for him, Lumus wondered internally.

He felt cautious affirmation from the secretly subby charr. If Lumus thought so, he was game to try.

For now, they felt the moisture seeping over the fur of their sack, the warmth and tacky tongue of the charr beneath them paying them the respect due their station. Subtly, perhaps tempted by the musk, the agent was slipping into knowing his place.

Really, that was as expected: pheromones were a powerful thing, charr noses were sensitive, and Rytlock was currently a man-scented candle of needs and desires.

"You okay there, soldier? Seems like my stinky crotch has you feeling good."

"Yes sir," said the man, trying to sound spiteful still but lacking his former ire.

"Mm, make sure to get in under it too... I wanna feel my sack on the bridge of your snout."

The cleaning continued... the heft of their big balls splaying out over that nose. They could feel the licks in the root of their penis, the pressure of the tongue working in against it.

Being Rytlock felt good.

But it could feel_better_.

Roaring low, they pulled the scout off their cock and turned him around -- squatting behind him, grinding that thick charr length up against the small of his nude back, grinding on the fur.

With a swipe of one clawed hand, they denied the scout his loincloth -- snapping it off.

"Time to return your 'backstabbing,' runt," Domlock whispered -- then ground lower, brushing that tail aside, working up between the cheeks with his soaking, leaking shaft. The agent clawed at the wall, moaning quietly and trying his best not to be heard as the tribune made use of him.

The ash legion punk spread easily at first, but penetration beyond the first inch was_tight_. Rytlock had enough girth that he was shy about it being too much for his less experienced partners to take... it was one of several factors motivating him to explore bottoming in his younger years.

And it was easy to see why. Even hopped up on musk and doing his best to please like a professional, the agent was struggling to get this VIP to fit into the area of operations.

"If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you were struggling. Maybe you'd be more comfortable with your fantasy version of Rytlock. The one in your head sounds small-dicked."

"MMMPHH!!!"

The scout flexed his hole and spread wider, taking him with great effort. Domlock was pleasantly surprised to find the guy clean and prepared... like there was a known risk this might happen and he had covered his bases. Chalk it up to Ash Legion preparedness.

"Mmm, little trouble opening the door, but it seems you have room inside. Domlock chuckled, reached up to his own left shoulder, and unhinged the pauldron -- letting it fall off, before wiping his hand under that extra sweaty pit, and smearing the fluid over the scout's nose to remind him. "That's a good agent... now..."

He worked deeper, the two ankle to ankle with knees spread as Lumus piloted Rytlock's rod inward to the hilt.

He teased the man with kisses, getting him to turn his head before pulling back and lifting that freshly un-spauldered arm -- pressing the nose up into that pit, hugging around the chest with the other arm and using Rytlock's head to nudge him deeper into that mess of bushy man-fluff.

"Drink up,dear," he told the agent. "Old Rytlock's smell helps rookies like you learn what's what..."

And with that deep huff, something broken in the agent. The hole clenched tighter, pleasure rolling down Domlock's cock in waves from how it tugged at them. The agent moaning, rubbing his face against the hair... burying his shame in the depths of that stinky underarm.

The ash scout was hard too -- and leaking, by the time they started fondling him with their free hand. The girth of Rytlock's deep thrusts was bringing the man pleasure... a pleasure which he was increasingly embracing. A change of heart, motivated by a change in the ass!

Lumus could feel Rytlock envying the man's position -- practically blushing within while the half dragon's dommy will drove their rutting toward its climax.

Their large paws... scooting in closer, tighter, steady those toes like so, aaaand... ram!!

And they did -- over and over, Lumus feeling the fun and pleasure of it behind the mask of his seriousness.

Their low-slung balls slapped against the agent's, which were starting to draw up. Lumus could feel the more delicate parts of Rytlock's nut-plumbing reverberating with each thrust, the nerves lighting up and getting cued up for go-time. Time for those swimmers to swim, time for this little twerp to suck musk and get full...

They rumbled. It felt good being on top with a body like this, a manly beast whose scent colored the perceptions of those beneath him. Flexing their powerful weight against this chump. Feeling their dick tingle inside him, the magic moment right there...

The body's instincts took over. Fangs flashing, they grabbed the man's scruff and held, tugging as they blew their heavy load inside of him -- tugging slowly, working his nose up along that underarm fur where it was nestled, giving him another long, sumptuous smear within it. A quiet squirting and the smell of semen told them the agent hadn't been able to hold back, either.

Lumus let the monster-bull-cat he was piloting writhe on instinct for a few seconds, basking in the feral majesty of how strong the climax was, and how possessive they felt over their claim. Theirs... their mate, their breeding.

Not that most charr really believed in mating for life in that way... but the heat-of-the-moment feeling was there, like the feeling of having jaws around prey.

They pulled out, letting the agent slump to the alley floor, panting and moaning incoherently as he took in air that wasn't so tainted with Rytlock musk. He sounded somehow disappointed by the smell's sudden decrease.

"Musk slut," Domlock said to him with a smirk, before nudging him with a paw. "C'mon, get up, you don't wanna be caught full of the tail-lifting tribune's seed."

The agent's teeth chattered. He looked up at Rytlock and failed at growling.

"Just... give me a moment..." the agent huffed.

Domlock smiled, slipping his loincloth and armor back on before starting to walk away. "Hey, if you need me again, you know where to find me. Not always in the mood to go that far, but I don't mind a sniff."

As they meandered off to continue their day, Rytlock's envy of the bottom's position remained.

Lumus thought jokingly, Find a way to clone yourself and maybe I can help you with that wish, too.

Rytlock seemed to squirm within him, apparently pleased with the persona Lumus had created.