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Riesh's green scales slashed through the gelid wind, shunning its calling, its pulling and leading, as he descended from a peak, twain hindlegs and twain forelimbs tucked. He ignored the hoar frost riming him.

A stoic clifftop, jutting out above pathetic brethren, overlooked the strath. He perched atop, spotting her den far below, across the sloped fields of snow. A fortnight ago, from afar heat wafted, whelming any other even though she'd in passing stayed far from the mating grounds. The other dragons noticed but dared not advance on those he marked to be his, for he beat each, again, tiring as that was.

Green and weak, all once said. Black side frills red ran through, his one softness, stretched. His scales shone green, as unlike paled ilk, he needed not blend into the snow to hunt, evincing speed and strength both.

He leapt right, down from the clifftop to an inferior, which shook.

A fortnight of stalking. A clear view of her in the second.

He alit on a third cliff, left this time, halfway down. The second fell, that crumbling rock unfit to even be called drift.

'Twas a glimpse through a blizzard, but what a glimpse of furred prize it was. Those golden eyes. In size, she topped he, albeit slight.

He winged down onto a fourth cliff: narrower, jutting out farther.

She'd yield all the same, such size making it all the sweeter withal, like standing atop a great beast of yore, dominance flaunted for all to heed, washing away his having spared Erav. Besides, fur plus mane comprised her bulk to suit a home residing within the frigid South.

Wind raked a flattish rock amidst the near slopes reaching up towards the remnants of this, of what must have erst stood as a cliffside of worth, now bearing collapsed widths downsloped sheer into the strath. The rock would do.

A few dragons 'warned' of her pride, dignity, and to not pursue. Cowards, afraid of a mere dragoness.

He gripped the rock's edges, steadying himself.

He hadn't mated yet...or released. Pride demanded otherwise. Natheless, he beat the centenarian dragons, of whom at least three eschewed indolent ground hugging, whereas others spent more days with their own tails than dragonesses.

Snow burnt his hindpaws and hands while he crossed.

The dragonesses in the vale subdued themselves, many of them discussing sex with dragons, breeding softness dissimilar to this pursuit. One, having stalked sans alerting him for days uncounted, approached proffering the same foolery. A lithe but sly skulking shame. Disheartening, at first. Then he lashed out, missing, when she, for opaque ends, brought up the way he avoided stepping on eyebrights and daisies.

Icicles hung from the large entrance's top, the iced rock bare here. The entrance faced away from the wind, keeping snow from sweeping in. A den lying low: poor for hunts, sound for a languorous loner averse to shovelling and climbing. The vale would warm her chilled heat. Their clutch, towering over others, fur and scale, South and Centre.

He slammed his right hand down to announce his presence, shattering the rime smirching lustre, weaker icicles falling, then walked inside, slow, to begin treading over a long stretch of ice encrusted rock. His feet's tapping, the howling wind outside, reduced to soughing by rock, and drips from farther in were all that echoed. Snow swept to the sides, darkened in shadow, for light hit straight the floor and backwall whereof the latter rose sharp to another path.

Halfway, ice cracked, but not under him; he backwinged body length thrice before a large icicle smashed into the ground afore where he had stood, shards splashed just short of reaching him. The dragoness landed next it, knees bent to absorb the fall. She rose, glaring, thick mane settling. Her teeth remained hid, and she voiced no snarl or growl. Good.

He near turned from her scent but instead inhaled the future: musty, with a bitter tint to resolve. "I, Riesh, claim thee as mine."

"Wynn. Not claimed; never claimed."

Playing hard to get. The red drake, who showed how to lead before returning North, taught him the game; this entailed proving aptness to protect and betokening siring of fit offspring.

"Never Claimed, Ever Unfulfilled." He began to walk towards her. "I'll quench thy flame."

"Nay." She started striding towards him, unhindered by the ice, claws uptilted. Sliding steps; easy to knock over.

"They always say so, then give in to wisdom when life's calling beckons." He'd seen such time aft time when arriving at the vale, having outgrown his erstwhile home, back when dragons let nature cull the timid.

She continued approaching.

If this were how it were to be, so be it. He had outwrestled greater. Enticing fluffed bulk would fall to raw brawn.

At twain body lengths away, he lunged.

She did the same, opening maw: a cavernous inside, fangs massive, teeth his scales' widths, a mouth his head's. They collided; his lunge manifested stronger; both toppled, slewing across the ice together. Her jaw clamped his neck. He tried to return the gesture but his teeth slipped on taut muscle and away from a mane that'd in truth grown short, dense, but short. Most of the bulk there belonged to a muscle-roped neck too thick to encircle.

Her hindpaws dug into the ice; should they stop, his body would swing, pivoting on a neck that'd snap from the force. He released his left hand's hold on her chest, thrusting upwards to claw at golden eyes, his right stuck slewing along the ice.

She stamped her hindpaws, interrupting claws, to crack the ice, creating a ridge ahead to jam into; they lurched. Midswing, she grabbed him and saved his neck. The two lay midst messed snow. Still he drubbed; maw tightening, she growled, muffled by a mouthful of yet unshredded scales, "Unsuppressed and fulfilled. Yield."

His traitorous body flagged before he could will a response. She unclamped, rising. Riesh, beaten by a dragoness. Shown mercy. Worst of all, saved.

This 'Wynn' turned to an incline in the cave, beginning to walk away, back turned in plain insult, as if he were not of barest concern. Yet mercy was but another weakness.

He sprang to latch onto her tail, finding purchase on its mid to gnaw, coughing on the longer fur. She flinched not, instead...moaning?

"Oh, 'tis good." Her hips raised. "But I asked not."

She backstepped and swivelled to shunt but he braced, straining, keeping footing while chewing. Golden pupils widened. If he couldn't overpower her, then lust would.

"So strong! How swell." She leveraged a heftier mass, tilting to threaten rolling over. He let go to slip rightwards; she landed supine, narrowed eyes belying newfound exposure. But he stilled.

For he froze with fear like a scrawny second who couldn't-

"It haps I misjudged thee." She rolled onto her fours. "I would've assumed thou tried not straddling me for fear but for thy eyes, fierce when I had thy neck and just then and still now." Circling, taking in his form afresh. "Few would show any respect at all."

Tricked by a hunter's eyes. A finer misprehending could not be had. He'd play along. "Alas, I cannot rescind my challenge."

"Yes thou canst." She zoomed to him and he bare kept claws to the ice. "Do it. Rescind."

Pride first, now honour. Provided it were what it would take. "I yield my claim."

"A challenge is unyieldable. I nor the ceiling or wind will take it. Thou must undo it."

Fussy nonsense. "I withdraw my challenge and renounce, nay, erase the claim declared apon thee." There, a bit of flair to appeal to wetted ears.

"Oh how e'er so splendiferous my grandiloquent fellow! Avoid such speech, please." Her snout neared his frills. "May I?"

"Yay..." Soft licks. Tender. Stirring. "Cease."

"Very well." She drew an inch away. "Now, I greet thy recalling with a challenge of mine own: prove thou art, 'wor-thy,' of sating my heat by withstanding my hindpaws." She struggled with the word worthy, mangling it as though unpleasant to her being, vile to tongue. "I shall take a single breath. Shouldst thou finish 'fore I need take another, thou losest, and a vice-a-versa!" For a single breath. The type of challenge one from a line of coddlers surely gave. To prove what? Self-recluding allowed dreams naive, indeed; he'd seen her talk once to a dragoness, that sly one from the vale, no other in whole the fortnight.

He would awaken her. To redeem. Yay.

"And what"--his tongue braved a swipe at her neck--"wouldst thou have of my defeat?"

She lowered her head to breathe down his ears. "Thou wilt go down on me, and not ever enter me."

His nostrils flared, her words stated as fact.

"Follow," she said aft he agreed. They flew to the second level, folded wings, and walked into a deeper chamber--easily, despite the narrow passage unfit for their widths, for she strode polite--where a fur bed lay.

"Repose on thy back."

Never. She service from beneath him. No words voiced the obvious.

"Well," she said. The ice bit up into his pads. "This dulls the spirit."

"Fine." He lay on the fur bedding. Mere paws.

But the way she moved: confident yet unarrogant stride, with long controlled steps. He refocused as she lay supine afore him, hindlegs raised, paws poised to pounce. A rough texture, unarousing, though his slit began to part.

"Ooh, thou hast a pleasing length, tapering, elegant, even if leaving out..."

"That I look the big brute? Expected a corkscrew with front-facing ribs and cutting ridges, spikes?" Hands given unaware.

"Yay. I assumed wrongly."

Well, that made two. He reclined and stared at the ceiling, spreading his wings across the fur. Frost faded here, patches of rock almost visible through it. The fur bed, a bear pelt, guessing of their kind, too, being white down South, gripped his scales, rough and weathered against rough and weathered. About the one pleasant feature of this place, aside from cleaned bones piled in the corner, although, the darkness had made for a good ambush. Wynn. Perhaps shrewd.

"Hast thou readied?" she asked.

"Nay, nay. I ought to sleep first." Drops trickled down the chamber's left wall in answer to the jest, and aft a while, lids began to droop. "What, what dost thou await?" he asked, craning: she'd lain sidewise and closed now oping eyes, ears unable of aught save literal meanings. A missed chance. He'd have little to parade. They must have had scarce culture wherefrom she was.

"Ah ye jested. Let us, I say let me, commence. But, as it is mine, is this thy first?"

He looked away. "Yay."

"I hope to be well for thee and thou for me." She shuffled cumbrous back into her last pose to hang hindpaws over somewhat softened length and took in a deep breath.

A very deep breath, chest expanding.

Hindpaws lowered to hover a twip above his tip. "Thou dost desire this, true?"

More coddling. "I shan't beg."

"I never want thou to."

Thence unwittingly she wished foes to grow ayond her.

Pads' edges alit onto his tip to clasp it, and it took every ounce of will to not jerk away; of course her paws would be cold! As his sheltered teeth gritted, she went about flexing digits, ignorant of his torment. Eventually, though, as it warmed, he relaxed, lifting up into her embrace, for her digits encircled his tip in full, their true texture a smooth leather shielding firm flesh melted ice had wetted.

When she squeezed his body betrayed him outright by moaning; in an attempt to muffle himself, he squeaked.

Squeaked. And froze, flesh within burning to thaw itself.

"I think no less of thee," she said, exhaling a bit of breath onto his tip.

No? No. So she fancied him soft for whatever she designed. "Good, for I strive to be aught but that."

Her eyes narrowed yet lacked the anger or disdain oft twined with such act, voice airing sole sentiment. "All strengths in all things."

"All strengths?" Strength coursed in but few forms.

She refused to elaborate, conserving breath. The air began to mix twixt bitter and sweet with a slight tang, none whereof was his.

Those paws slid down, using more of themselves to cover gradual widening width. Firm edges turned to the fuller farther along pads, the flesh still firm, yet it gave slow, cushioning him in cruel warming heat.

At this rate he'd become a drooling slave to paws in moments. His one hope was to lure words from her and thus draw second breath. Twould heed the rules set.

"Thy rearers must have differed from most southerners," he said.

Polishing answered.

"I wonder if any of thy clutchmates wandered north."

The left paw twitched. A blink. But her jaw stayed shut.

Left up, right down, squeezing and kneading to raise the pleasure as he melted under deft touch, her focus returned.

"Sto..." He arrested himself. Begging fell beneath even defeat.

A devilish grin twisted her closed maw; while hunching, she angled his length at her thighs, then chest, then aimed at nearing snout. His eyes widened.

She chose marking. For their first.

Accepted, his hips thrust and rapture flooded his nerves, a rope of his clear fluid--twasn't meant to be white?--arcing then streaking across her snout's left side, sinking into the fur. Her stroking continued as a second dashed along her lower jaw. Her left paw closed over his tip, taking the weaker third and fourth spurts.

Over aeons she slowed her paws, carrying him down from grand peak for rest in a field of warmth till relinquishing at last.

"It...can't be. I'm second rate."

A deep inhale broke his thoughts. She panted for a bit, before saying, "Hmm?

"I lost."

"By rules I suppose though not in truth." She brought her hand to her face, gathering a string, to chest, further marking fur and revealing how short that fur was, mumbling, "So clear, so clean." Possessing lungs dwarfing those of a dragon double her mass. "Thoughts on my paws? Thou seemed to enjoy them."

"I forsaw the coarsened, not the silkened." He distanced from the present. A desert drake's paws weren't smooth let alone an ice one's; else they'd slip.

"How else would I sail across ice?"

But how did she grip--her claws: kept raised during their first meeting, lowered when she and he slewed.

"Thou appearst reluctant." She turned around and lay on ventral side, then spread hindlegs aslant. "I shan't make thou though I crave thy touch."

Riesh could keep his pride. He'd even marked Wynn with his seed. Seed that was clear...and sterile? Those whilom tales of his sire and dame who struggled to conceive an egg.

Or he could dine on, drink from, caress her slit...and then, when she reached the height of ecstasy, he would seize the moment to mount. Yay. To redeem himself. He had no other choice but using his tongue to lower her guard. No other choice but to lick slickening slit, to runs hands across thigh fur, to engulf himself in scent... No other choice.

"I want to go down on thee."

"Mm, that look in thine eyes; thou'rt more a licker than a thruster. Thy snout belongs tween my thighs."

She clear degraded him, and yet as he crawled near, and she shimmed back in apparent sympathy to close the gap sooner, his length throbbed anew. But such whimsy ended erelong. 'Twas the plan rallying onwards.

Confidence restored despite lying prone ahind a dragoness, he slid claws along splayed hindlegs before rounding thighs, cupping through fur lax muscles, squeezing a healthy layer of thin fat.

She turned her head to watch sidelong with left eye asquint.

He crawled an inch closer and nudged her tail's centre; it away. "Curve the tip towards, please." He wanted to spit the last but checked his temper, for now.

She did as asked, most, swaying it a thou ayond reach of his mouth. "Can I trust thee to take care? Thy teeth aren't as mine but thou wert ready to throat thyself before."

Throat himself? She... "I. Promise. To be gentle."

Pleased, she swayed it to him, skimming across his snout, tickling with a brush of fur packed so dense it would shame the vanes of a gryph's feathers.

In a rush he made to grab it, but before his mistake could occur, she shifted it over forelimbs so its third's mid slid side to side across his maw. He thrust forwards, wrapping around it, the end whereof pointing out sideways, to set about nibbling, pressing tongue through the fur. At some point she'd licked it to prevent chaffing, making the normally dry fur soothing.

"Keep going...keep going... Well done, that's enough." Her tail slipped free, breaking saliva strands, which slapped his chin, and he flailed to snatch before realising his loutish appearance and regripped wonderful thighs.

"Good. I began to worry thou hadst a feline ancestor."

He grunted, steeling as he re-inched closer and lowered. To resume the polite act, he asked, "May I begin?"

She nodded, smiling. It satisfied him. Because she was falling for it.

She raised her tail and tilted her hips, revealing...fur, covering all. Arousal soaked every strand through and through.

"Thou'll have to find it. Luck's blessing."

He snorted, inhaling scent by mistake, then sniffing on purpose. Divine. Bitterness had long bowed to a strong savoury, sweet smell. He brushed against fur. Softer, as dense, and much hotter.

Heat. The ticket for a first dive success.

Aft finding the hottest 'clump', lacking apter term for such even density, he thrust his snout through the sea of fur; and bumped into something flattish, large, hard. Clit. It was like rock, dared firm past not only most dragons but one such as he. Yet he hardened, though not in challenge, unable to e'er reach her level of hardness.

Time for doubt fled. Scent beckoned a future.

With some effort, he spread maw, pushing the dense fur apart, to slither out his tongue.

One last inhale.

Then licked, starting from the sides, just ayond her slit. The closer he trailed, the shorter the fur was.

"Thou dost look lovely as that," she said. "Strong but giving."

Strong but giving. Funny. Enough games. He hovered his tongue afore her slit's top before pressing against it and dragging down, then repeated, halting shy of her clit each time. While that was hard, the rest had softened, eagerly turning with exploring.

"Thou teasest me"--her hips bucked, lifting her clit to his tongue--"no more!"

Fluids mixed with saliva as he agreed, tongue swishing back and forth over clit. She crooned as he twirled around it, gently squeezing while laying the rest of his tongue flat against. Though scales began to drip, snout dalve, engulfing most of his face in fur to press against her, nasal vents taking in all. More. He wanted more.

She had near dried to his thirsting when her wings twitched; they shot out, casting him in a glorious shadow of feathered splendour. Her head turned slow to the ceiling, and her maw opened, eyes closing while throat quivered, a long coo and a burst of fluid rewarding him. A thinner flow followed at leisure, as if it were cherishing the moment.

Then, she trilled. Once golden eyes opened, now black spheres entire. Still, she kept serene. 'Twas beautiful, the way she held herself, dignified, even, as her ecstasy released. Natural. Unforced. The way her words warmed him.

The perfect moment to strike; he willed himself to rise and his limbs...did naught? He couldn't bear to tear away from her slit. Nor could he bear the thought of trying to ruin something as grand as her. Instead, his right hand edged under her, feeling her body pulse.

A deluge jetted out from deep, deep within her. Sweet liquid washed over snout tip--any sense of smell inundated with pungent scent--running along the sides and top, passing eyes and brow ridges, flooding across jaw and frills. The liquid kindly folded side facing ears back, forfending welling. Warmth hurtled down his back, rolling over small spine nubs and tiding to wings that were forced to the ground, so laden with weight, but in a herculean effort he raised them, eliciting an adoring sigh from her in the short sole lull of her release. Viscous gleaming liquid lacquered his chest and forelimbs, excess flooding around his forequarters. Membranes were taut under the fluid, as well as over, for it gushed neath his wings as it sloshed across his flanks, curving inwards to his ventral side. Wave aft wave reached his haunches and flew off in tumultuous, heavy sheets that glistered before caking the ice the snow both far both near. More coursed down his spine, funneling together at his tail's base then further narrowing as it slooshed down tail to tip till it streamed off, down at the ground, the heat incising a straight path to the ice that reached the wall, which melted to its heat, lagging in following unenburdened mind.

He was untethered from those requirements of supposed masculinity, supposed strength, instead riveted by her unfettered character, her way of being and way of dignified movements in all she did. But above all by that she, in every single move made, treated him as an equal, forwent debasing or degrading, shunned lording over or humiliating, even when he was unguarded, when it would have taken the barest of efforts, when it would have been fulfilling for any other being he'd known. In lieu of games, of power struggles, she acted as a pillar unto herself, neither asking nor dragging out praise her humble manner deserved. Far from a proud but isolated butte that towered over others in cold indifference, she extended resolute warmth; she respected him first and foremost as a person, even when he bade try taking, try breaking her. And now, she ennobled him.

And his length: 'twas treble glazed, the thrilled blood pulsing keeping up his shaft as more fluid glid across his underside. The pressure so even, so all over.

All throughout, she kept her composure, her poised posture, at tranquil ease amidst the flooding storm that was her climax's endless flurry. Her mouth's ends curved up to smile in pure pleasure. She pressed to his snout, rhythmed pulsing pumping throbs to her sex, caressing snout's tip alongside the murmuring rumbling from chest, the subtle movement a massage.

Over and again the daunting flood pushed back his tongue. And over and again he snuck it back through the gaps tween the liquid sheets to lick her clit and slit to prolong her peak, no matter how tiring, how exhausting, while the tide slowed.

Awed, he continued rubbing hardened clit and drank as much fluid as possible to taste, to savour flavour, coating his lips, buccals, making the flesh shimmer till fangs glittered, and his tongue: each pebble of its surface shone such that it sparkled.

Even now he could bid mount but for a dearth of want to. If pleasure would be attained from trying to ruin her, it was outweighed vast by the unrivalled pleasure of seeing her dignified being, of caressing her. Of being with her.

He...wanted to exalt.

She drenched his body, coated every scale, laminated his face. It dried, cooling, yet in lieu of flaking smoothed and conformed to his agleam shape. Save glistening, naught obscured his form, the liquid transparent.

The taste itself was ever so rich: a sweetness savouriness underpinned, a tanginess spiked throughout that which was otherwise enmixed thorough. He would have begun gulping it save she entreated slowen; each tender swallow slowed more than the last till the liquid flowed down with naught but gravity wheedling it.

There was so much. Had he somehow entered her, it wouldn't have mattered; for her fluids would slam into any dragon's white and shove it out, for she had flooded her own womb, told by the pulsing his hand felt.

"How didst thou e'en arise?" he asked.

"How didst thou? So strong and gentle despite thy earlier off-putting blustering."

"This is not who I am to be." The fetters returned, the thoughts returned, the shames returned.

"But deep down, this is thy true self. Cast away false character and join me as my mate."

"Thou defeated me twice, saved me, made me renounce my claim, then marked me thyself, blanketing me in thy name, humiliating me all the while. And now, thou askest me to join thee. Mayhap I deserve this fate."

"Humiliate thee? Nay." She turned, fluid dripping from fur onto fur, to him. Her tongue set to sweeping, cleaning him as best able given the copious amount while she nuzzled him. "All I said was praise. They were all things I saw as great, as equal to I. And...I knew the plan thou hid. What thou intended to do."

His jaw slackened, and her tongue caressed his.

"But from one nimble I had learnt who thou wert when thou thought none looked. That is for who I long. You. Be my mate."

He...needed not dominate as an equal. No clutch would e'er he sire. But perhaps that was okay.

"Yes."