FSE

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"Fucking hell, why do they always hide on those mountains?" growled a distant voice in the snow and tempest, the wind howling above.

"Yes, Dragonborn, we have a Dragon problem near our village! Yes, Dragonborn, he's far up the mountain! Yes, we don't know why this blizzard has settled around the peak, but nobody dared to ascend- ATCHA!" growled, then sneezed the Orc as he took another step.

Despite his body covered with furs and most of his face hidden by a cowl, it wasn't hard to identify the Orc as the Dragonborn: his shaved hair wasn't uncommon, but his bright red brows onto his deep green skin always tipped people off as well as those sideburns he sported, though a patch a red hair on his chin threatened to turn the delicate art into a rough mountain man beard. Not that he would have minded as his blue eyes darted forward, ice-crowned furrows and lashes making winking a bit tedious.

"And while I take a hike, the elders have their fun. Arngeir is getting Wulgar inside all day, even having a moment with Paarthurnax. And me? I get to freeze my cock because a dumb Dragon didn't get the memo..."

The rambling continued; the orc advanced by pushing against the snow while the wind seemed to form a barrier opposing him. Right at the beginning of the journey, he had decided to take a more discrete approach and not to use the Thu'um to stop that tempest. That way, he was supposed to sneak up on the Dragon and enjoin him to take another place or have a fast pass to Sovngard. And yet...

Now, as he watched the icicles on his gloves, he couldn't care less about being discrete.

"Grbmmblbl... Fine, you win, dumb lizard. LOK VAH KOOR!"

In spite of the wind and the tempest, his shout pierced through. And with it, deadened the howls and cries from the storm. As if an arrow had cut through that chaos, the way forward opened. But more than that, the whole enchantment on the mountain seemed to abate and reduce, to slowly die away as the sun above began to take its rightful place.

And after hours of hiking, of ascending, a moment of warmth was all the Dragonborn needed.

He didn't know why that Beast had suddenly decided to settle east of Windhelm, not so far from Skulfaln, but the result remained as it made his advance much more difficult... Which wasn't to ease his attitude when he finally reached the top.

A dumb flat top with nothing. Not a word wall, not a temple, not a tomb... That dumb Reptile had chosen a dead expanse and was absent. Or rather, not on the ground.

"Dovahkiin! We finally met! It is the day, I, Munraknir, fell the Dragonborn and gain Alduin's approval!" shouted the Beast from above. The said Dragon.

A Beast whose large wingspan was only met with his massive ego, the former helping in lifting the latter. A Creature whose golden scales surely didn't help with its vanity, and yet his roundish belly looked like opprobrium to the natural lean shape of Dragonkind. A Beast whose face, adorned with emerald eyes and sumptuous horns, was surely the source of his arrogance... If not its pathetic attempt of Thu'um in the form of that blizzard.

A Creature that looked down on the Dovahkiin with contempt and yet the hope of a fleeting glory. Except.

JOOR! ZAH! FRUL!

A shout, a cry... And the frailty of the Dragon's flight proved true when those wings suddenly ceased to beat in order and for the Creature to whine, bite the air... And plummet like a dead weight on the snowy ground it had elected as its lair. In a cloud of snow and dirt, the Creature tried to flap its wings as the muscles seemed suddenly unable to lift its mass: whether the wings or those legs that clawed the ground.

And yet, the Dragon's green eyes were solely directed at the Orc who approached, peeling his cowl back and undoing the knot holding the cloth tight around his neck. That mortal, that Dragonborn, he was a threat.

And yet, he walked up to the Dragon with a calm pace, his eyes closing and his breath steady. Only to utter words that would shake this Beast to his core.

"First of all, fuck you. Munra-something," great words were sowed that day... Though many were driven by anger toward someone who had irked the Dragon's bane.

"Krosis, Dovahkiin! Krosis! I will-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" interrupted the Dragonborn, removing his frozen gloves one by one. At this moment, the clouds had fully disappeared from the snowy mountain, therefore allowing the sun to warm the place.

Precisely when the Dragonborn approached... And sat on the Dragonborn's muzzle without a care for the Creature's growls and grunts. Munraknir was a Dovah, a hunter of the sky, the apex!

"I said: SHUT THE FUCK UP!" shouted the Orc again, flailing his wet gloves while giving a firm glance to the Beast... Who now mewled pathetically.

"Today was supposed to be the bath day, Wulfgar and Borri promised to double-tag my ass for once! And me to eat Arngeir's ass! Do you know what I missed?!" asked the Dragonborn, looking at the Beast's left eye. He put the gloves on his lap and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. They were not entirely frozen but a few more hours, and he would have to take more than a healing potion.

"I-" began to answer the Dragon, confused. Solely for another glance to silence it.

"But noooo! Munrabitch had to have its little temper tantrum and turn mountains into icicles and bother villages. Do you know I have killed dumb lizards like you for less than that?!" shouted the Dragonborn again, clasping his hands as if it would warm them better.

Before he gave up.

Yol!

A little fire suddenly emanated from his mouth, which he directed at his hands, blowing onto the green skin again... And again.

Meanwhile, the Dragon watched that puny Creature act as if he had all the power in the world. And already, the Dragon was feeling its strength returning. The wings were still sore, but its jaw was strong enough to-

JOOR ZAH FRUL!

And the Dragon fell back, its strength and power drained once more. There was no way to escape that one's strength, to not be at the Dragonborn's mercy. And the Dragon's green eyes widened.

"Kr-"

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut?!" repeated the Orc, finally opening and closing his fingers. He could feel them again and entirely, though his soles were another issue. And so he shifted his position, sitting on the Dragon's nose while pulling on his right boot.

"You're always the same, you, the Dragons. I wanna be Alduin's right wing. I will prove myself. That mortal can't defy my strength. I'll prove him wrong, he's arrogant and don't know I'm recovering my power!" spoke the Orc with a falsetto voice, filled with scorn and anger directed at the Dragon who felt the sting... Especially that sting of being nothing but a mere seat for that disrespectful Dovahkiin.

"Have you even listened to what Paarthunax said? You know, that shout, six months ago?"

Of course, Munrakniir wouldn't heed Paarthurnax. That Dragon had turned against the other Dovah, betrayed Alduin and undid their preeminence. What good would be to hear such li-

"I'll break it to you: Alduin is no more."

The Dragon's brows lifted onto the Orc with a sheer expression of ire. And fear. The pupils danced, the brows lifted, and even its lips were tighter.

More so as he continued with both hands up.

"No more, gone, disappeared, past tensed, un-alived, undone, removed, boom erased," he stated while shaking those tiny digits left and right. The Dragon's brows lifted more and more, and it inhaled.

JOOR ZAH FRUL!

And its strength was sapped, its lips closing and falling while another pathetic mewl escaped the massive Creature. But the Orc looked satisfied as he put back his boots and brushed his trousers off. Just a moment of calm he allowed himself, as he stood up and began to stretch in grunts and growls. Before turning to the Dragon.

"So all your little play with Alduin applauding you is useless. You could have eaten your fill and hunted like a good Dragon without bothering anyone... And yet, I'm here having to deal with your antics. Therefore..." He exhaled, passing a hand over his tired and wrinkled traits before lowering his gaze to the Beast.

Beast that... Trembled, its tail flailing the snow while its body seemed to weigh more, to crush itself. Those eyes looked left and right, and its chin almost rubbed against the dirt so not to raise it and risk to offense that Orc.

"Fuck, you're so pathetic."

And that Orc's... Smile was radiant.

"I decided to punish you," he said with a wink.

Instantly, the Dragon batted its wings, trying to oppose against the gravity that crushed it and to flee. Even crawling on the ground with its weakened limbs was enough as it tried to turn and run. Only for the Dragonborn's relaxed steps to outrun the Beast and stand in its way with that grin. A devious grin.

Kren... Dovah... Kah.

The words were articulated. Right there, the Dragon howled as its wings reached for its head, whimpering. Gone was the cry of anger and furor, gone were the proud shouts as it stood at the apex of that mountain. The Beast now howled in pain as the shout took root within its being.

KREN DOVAH KAH!

"Aaz! Aaz!" shouted the Dragon, pleading mercy though its mighty voice was breaking, taking a higher pitch as the Thu'um permeated its being. It was taking everything away, everything it possessed.

KREN! DOVAH! KAH!

The shout echoed above the mountain like thunder. But then, the Dragon ceased to move and slowly peeled its wings away from its eyes... Solely to glance at the Orc, at the Mortal. At its better.

"Who are you?"

"Munraknir."

"No, your name is Slave," retorted the Orc, crossing his arms.

"Aar... Slave. Yes, I am Slave," bowed the Dragon, feeling... The satisfaction of its master and its own. It felt good, it felt alright, it felt perfect.

And so the Dragon bowed again before the Dragonborn. Its better, its master, its leader.

Perhaps the wisest choice the Slave had made...

And it did not regret as it stood on its backside, with the wings furled and its muzzle directed at the Orc's presence on that golden belly. With his boots removed and his mantel opened, the Orc stood proudly atop the Beast as he walked on those scales, searching for something. Or somewhat...

After a few minutes, he stopped to glance at the Dragon.

"Slave, have you ever let a Beast mount you?"

"I- No, never Master. Krosis. Dovah are too prideful," answered the Beast with a dismissive shake. Only for the Orc to clasp his hands and search into his satchel at his side, hunting for something... And then pulling three scrolls.

"Slave. We will find you a perfect husband for the years to come, this will be a fitting punishment."

"Thank you, Master!"

The concept of punishment was aberrant to the Dragon. Being bestowed a lover by its Master was a boon. Anything to please the Orc was perfect, and if he decided it was better for Slave to serve a Beast, Slave would be happy. No, elated to do so.

However, the reaction from the Orc was a scowl. Then a sigh before returning the scrolls to the satchel and stripping... One by one were his clothes removed, uncovering what his body was: Muscular but pudgy, hairy with fiery hair running from his chest to his round belly, covered with scars from all origins. And finally.

Unmaled. Yes.

The Orc's malehood was large and potent, almost disproportional for his size. His testicles, on the other side, were missing, and their absence showed as a hairy but empty scrotum flailed at each movement the Dragonborn made. A sight the green-eyed Beast observed in awe and fear... Before a cough interrupted the observation.

"Krosis, Master," excused the Slave, only to notice the chuffed attitude from the Orc as he leaned to get the scrolls back and search for one... Before grinning.

"It's alright, we'll have some fun, you and I." commented the Eunuch as he read the text from the scroll in silence. His lips moved rapidly until he threw it all in the direction of the Dragon's groin.

As it flew, the scroll took fire and suddenly warped until it burned up in a flash, replaced instead by a strange being the Slave had never seen. A bipedal Creature whose head evidently bore fish-like features for a face, palmed clawed hands, and fins all around its body. More than that, the Creature wore a sort of light armor made of darkened plates... Or rather, they were black protrusions from its skin. Such Creature did not hail from Nirn but beyond.

"Isn't he beautiful?" suddenly asked the Orc, prompting the Slave to look away from the hefty summon on its belly. And glance at its master.

"I do not know, Master, what... It is."

"He will be your new lover, your husband, Dovah Zaam Aam Ahmul! Right?"

The Dragon watched its master, observed those defiant traits. But then returned to the cr-... Not, to its husband. Yes, a good Dovah Slave was to serve its husband and lover. And almost from sheer excitation, the Dragon attempted to spread its legs as its slit opened. From it, its cock emerged: pink like innocent flesh, soaking with the fluids of love and envy, and reeking.

But Master didn't seem to care. Instead, the Orc turned its back away from the Dragon and leaned forward. Then grasped his hairy asscheeks.

Such a display was perverted, but the Dragonborn didn't care. He was contemptuous toward that stupid Dragon who stole the opportunity of such a good moment. Of course, it would have been worse if he had been pulled away from one moment with Paarthurnax, the old Dragon was kind of a deviant when given the opportunity.

But even then, he looked at the golden Beast with nothing but scorn... At least, until it managed to learn its purpose.

And at that moment, with his legs spread and ass shown, it was for the Dragon to use its tongue. His cheeks were hairy but damp with sweat despite the fresh air left by the tempest, the red hair sticking to his skin and more so to his greasy asshole. A pot of love the Graybeards had carved, and Paarthurnax deepened until it looked like a swollen sweetroll. Albeit it lacked some glazing at the moment, the Orc hoped to get it fixed later.

But... Nothing.

Right away, the Dragonborn looked above his shoulder to notice the surprised expression on the Beast and sighed: "Use your tongue unless you want me to cut it!"

His voice was rough, more than he had hoped. But the sudden push of the Beast's appendage against his ass proved it was alright. And...

He sighed.

The Dragon's tongue proved tensile and tactful as it explored the sweaty crevice between, cleaning up those hairs caked from wearing warm clothes. And by Malacath was this dumb Reptile talented in using its tongue to clean his orifice, forcing the Dragonborn to grasp further along his cheeks. The caresses were relentless, the slight flicks regular on his bumhole... And the prodding. When that strong tongue, all muscle and strength, began to shove against his rim, the Orc nearly lost his footings before he held onto his knees. It didn't stop the Slave from forcing its way, though, and the Dragonborn heaved as the appendage kept toying and tempting to pass through the sphincter despite him clenching and holding on. An exercise in which he was so lost and focused he almost didn't notice before him the Lurker, the Creature he had summoned.

Like most summons, it solely needed a mental command, and the Dragonborn almost laughed out in surprise from his own stupidity. But already, he glanced at the Creature's groin, looking for the slit nestled between folds of skin and bone, observing the summon's malehood before he nodded and pointed his chin to the Dragon's groin. Beyond that erected cock, beyond that moist slit... There was the Dragon's sphincter. An orifice certainly larger than his and whose function allowed more control and certainly less pain for the Beast.

And so, the Lurker began to trudge on, each step heavy with purpose as the Orc watched and observed, sweeping the sweat off his forehead.

The tongue inside him had passed through the sphincter, and no amount of clenching could stop the Beast as it pushed and dug, and forced. Its sheer might already formed a bulge beneath his skin, like a tendril in his pudgy belly. And the more time passed, the more he had to hold onto his guts and knees, the more he had to endure them: the waves.

A tongue cannot push endlessly and contort in all directions with ease. So instead, the Dragon opted for the most efficient solution and wiggled it did. It wiggled inside the dwarfed Orc, in comparison, and each movement swept through his body: from the tinder rim, stretched thin, to the guts forced to adjust and press into other directions as the Beast seemed inclined to push. And even have its muzzle pressed and breathing down the Dragonborn's butt. And... yet, he loved it. His cock was soft, but blood still managed to pulse inside as the dead organ jumped from time to time, along with the tongue thrusting in.

And the Eunuch heaved, with more sweat pouring over his forehead.

"Go- Good Slave," he growled through his teeth, clenching his fist around his right knee.

Below, below his skin, below his flesh, the tongue remained relentless, entranced by the laud. It was about to push further up than anything he had done and-.

"GNFHH!" less than a word and more like a silence yelp, the sound emanated from the Slave. And while the orc didn't need to watch forward, he looked above his shoulder to the Beast almost biting its tongue off from the surprise.

His surprise.

One, he scarcely had to close his eyes to see through his summon's.

Beneath the palmed hands, the Lurker had found the Dragon's pucker. A narrow orifice prone to be taken by its erected and pointy dick, but certainly... Yes, more tight than Paarthurnax. A tight hole that would only allow a human's hand to pass through from how clenched it was. And yet, the Lurker was prodding the orifice with its fingers before grasping the edges on each side. And spreading them apart, eliciting another whine from the Dragon, closing its eyes in surprise.

"'Rosis! 'asser!" pleaded Slave, unable to speak properly with its tongue out. And already was the Beast trying to pull it out, only for the Orc to grasp the appendage.

Despite the fatigue and effort, his grip ceased all movements while the poor Dragon watched in silence and astonishment.

"Not- Not out. You-... You keep it inside, Slave," sighed the Dragonborn with an exhausted sigh. He then released the tongue, but it didn't pull out... Nor pressed further.

"'Asser!" pleaded the Beast, only to have those blue eyes frowning back.

"You-... You keep working my ass. Even if it hurts, even if it's the last thing you'll do in your life. Got it?!" He instructed, meeting the Beast eyes to eyes until it lowered its muzzle in shame. "Go-Ood!"

The satisfaction of winning the argument with the Dragon was instantly rewarded by a thrust inside his guts, from that appendage returning inside and twisting in every direction the organs took. It squirmed up, right, up, left, down... It... It was astounding to feel his organs so strained and surely... The Dragonborn looked pregnant, his roundish belly shaken by waves of underlying muscle. His skin was taut, almost taking a clearer shade from the stretch... He would suffer from marks soon but didn't care for them. As much as he didn't care for the Dragon's well-being under the Lurker's touch.

The Lurker who had now managed to squeeze eight fingers inside the orifice while pulling on each side in a sort of fight against the Dragon's instinct and fears. It pulled, it stretched... And too, wiggled its fingers within the orifice until the poor Beast whimpered and whined further.

It was enough for the Orc and the Lurker, enough for them to change tactic as the Daedric summon now knelt by the orifice. It reached for its groin, pressed apart the plates as the flesh contorted from the ichor pumping inside, extended. Alas, the mast stood erected, almost as big as its chest. A monster of a malehood, large and heavy to the point it hung down from the weight. The scent of it, even the Orc could smell it with his own nostrils. It didn't stop his concentration, however.

He guided the Beast, pointed the barbed tip toward the gaping rim, like a spear about to trust. The tip was moist, covered with precum-like fluids. It shimmered in the midday sun like stainless steel. And then, it pushed.

Egged on, and despite the Dragon's whimper or unleashed tongue, the Orc enjoined his summon to press further.

He didn't order. He used this summon as an extension of himself and enjoyed the sensations from it. Whether those were the spasms of the shaft surrounded by the tight muscles. Below, the Beast spasmed and whined, jerking weakly but not enough to disturb anyone in action. No, it was a pitiful attempt of a defense and to clench its weak hole.

But in vain as the cock pushed and the Lurker crawled forward to penetrate further.

And during this, the Orc grinned. Behind, he experienced his prostate being massaged by the lashing tongue, whose squirms felt like a hammer hitting the right spot on every occasion and movement. Either pressing onto it or around, teasing and nagging that gland until precum poured from the Dragonborn's limp cock.

But before him, it felt like he was penetrating someone's tight ass but more. His cock felt so long and large as he pushed within the Dragon's recess, tasting and enjoying the sensation of having a big Beast squirm below. Whenever he guided its summon deeper, the Slave whined and pleaded with its busy tongue.

"'Ease! 'Ease!" it repeated, solely for the Orc to enjoin another trust. Another centimeter within the depths, the hole that was to adapt or break. Even with the scales hiding its gut, the Dragon's belly, too, began to bulge as the shape of the Lurker's cock appeared.

It was perfect... Almost. The spurned Orc looked down on the scrolls he still possessed.

"I-... You are such a good Slave. I- Will punish you more," he stated through heaving breath. He temporarily cut the link with his summon to reach for one of the scrolls and read it... Then, throw it toward the Dragon's groin like before.

And like before, the scroll took fire then exploded in a flash, replaced only by another summon. A Seeker this time. A Monster levitating, made of tentacles that already latched on the nearest object at their disposal: a fleshy and pristine Draconic cock that swerved, sprayed, and spurted under the Lurker's invasion. A poor shaft exposed to the touch of the Daedra's elongated fingers that explored and stroked the mucous skin.

Strokes that became more intense as the tentacles inched closer to the shaft, surrounding it and encompassing it... And then penetrated it.

In one moment, the Dragon's tongue lashed and contracted, pressing the Dragonborn's gut. His mind, his thoughts, he almost lost track of them from the sudden abuse his swollen belly endured. And more so his prostate, which was lashed and abused. But he held, he held as more fluids came from his limp dick to drip on the floor.

He almost failed to maintain the summons and to lose contact. But the Creature and Monster were there and alive, silent and stilled in their movement.

His body was wrecked, but still. The Dragonborn closed his eyes again and tried to concentrate on the Lurker and Seeker. One to angle his dick and move his hips. The second to use his tentacles like a tongue... And soon, both cock and tongue were used.

One to deepen the Dragon's inners, to dig them and rearrange its guts, pressuring on its prostate until it gave out. The other to explore the Dragon's malehood, to plug it, and torment the Beast as more fluids began to back up inside the prostate.

It mewled, it cried, it pleaded despite its stuck-out tongue.

But just as well, the Orc no longer heeded it. No, he was enjoying tempting feelings, and one he had almost given up on finding back.

He even began to grind his hips in the void, thrusting his lifeless cock against the wind and his ass against the tongue to emulate it.

And so, his summon followed the movement. From a weak penetration and progression, plagued with doubt and lack of knowledge, the Lurker began to answer to those primal nudges from its summoner. The Creature couldn't pant perfectly, but its mouth hung open as the barbed tip, and the rough base had been fully inserted. And so, it swayed its hips. Back and forth, just enough to get only a fraction of the shaft out, only to push it back inside while moving left and right. Left and right, below and above. Beneath, there was a prime orifice to breed and use, to take and claim.

Whenever the Lurker pressed, it was again for the Dragon's sphincter to close itself and try to hold onto the Creature's shaft.

Much like to the Seeker whose tendrils had been involved and sent to circle and embrace the Draconic shaft. That way, no amount of movement from the Beast could halt the progression of that tendril inside... Of the Orc's tongue forward.

Emulation, transmission, sensations. The Seeker followed. The Orc sensed and tasted the draconic precum against his tastebuds. He sensed the warmth of the prostate, attempting to clench and contract to eject all those fluids forward. But the pressure at his tongue tip proved that it wouldn't work. That orifice was sealed, that hole was solely to be used for his pleasure and sensation.

And so, the tendril progressed, bulging through the Dragon's dick like a snake beneath the sensitive flesh.

"'Asser! 'Ease! 'Ease! 'Rosis!" begged the poor Slave, its voice so deformed by the pain and pleasure. And cutting contact for an instant, the Dragonborn looked above his shoulder to see the Regal and Golden Dragon. He saw those traits marred by fatigue to the point the lids barely stayed open to cover those emerald eyes. It tried to look at its master, to admire, and to plead. But like its eyes, its neck began to give out and lay on the snow and dirt, threatening to pull away from the Orc.

Before the same Orc stuck his tongue out further. The poor Beast yelped in surprise, for the tendril had begun to push and dig within the prostate.

Within, the taste of flesh was more intense, and so the contractions against the tendril, so intense it felt like a massage the orc sensed through the spell's intervention. It contracted, tried to push back, attempted to ooze that precum from all the possible openings. But the Orc extended his tongue further until it couldn't move beyond... But the Tendril continued, contorting, twisting, turning.

It moved, it advanced while the Beast's recrimination turned into howls.

The contractions were more intense, more brutal.

Or perhaps were they motivated by the hammering inside its sphincter, by the Lurker unleashing and relishing. The Creature who no longer needed nudging from the Orc to penetrate and breed the Dragon's ass. Even with his hips still, the Dragonborn sensed the back and forth from the summon, rummaging the Dragon's depths and tormenting it. Tormenting its belly, its guts, its prostate until the poor organ had been battered and abused. But the spot wasn't giving out. So the barbed tip kept rubbing it, hitting it, pistoning it.

"'ASSER! EASE! I 'ANRH! 'ASSER!" called the Dragon behind, unable to shout lest to maim its tongue. But its voice trembled and broke... It was pitiful. And enjoyable to hear. No ego, no arrogance, just a mewling of a plea with a whiny voice that would no longer bother him or anyone else.

He exhaled, his body trembling. The Dragon's tongue had now ceased to move, but he kept working his. And his hips. Albeit weakly, he no longer needed to order them and move around. Rather, he was to enjoy the sensation of the Dragon's rump clenching on the Lurker's dick or to feel the Beast's heartbeat against the tendril as it neared the lower reaches of the Dragon's prostate.

He sighed. He exhaled. He bit his lips.

The Summons were relentless, brutal, feral. And it was senseless to stop them in their track...

"Oh... Malacath," he grunted despite the wind, breaking the left hand off his knee to his shaft. It dripped like a fountain, and he could easily use the Thu'um to make himself hard. Instead, he pinched and used two fingers to rub it and tug the foreskin.

There was still some sensitivity he enjoyed. But the sensation doubled as he let the Lurker's feedback pervaded and merged, intermingled. He felt his hand on his numb cock, he felt the Dragon's ass clenching his hardened shaft. He sensed the pull, then the pressure.

His breath quickened, his body quivered.

And in return, the summons pressed further, moved tendrils and hips in such an irregular pace it wasn't humane nor natural. They were seeking something they couldn't know. Yet, the Orc felt it. The budding pleasure, the brimming energy, the simmering delight. He clenched his jaw, bit his lips, exhaled.

And threw his head back until steam escaped his mouth, much like his sweating body. His other hand clenched on the knees, his toes curled, his tongue danced. And he gurgled. And whistled in the wind.

It was all over.

The Dragonborn breathed, releasing the control he had over his Summons. They faded away, disappearing in a cloud of dust as he pulled on his knees to extirpate himself and have that tongue out.

And almost fell due to his numbed thighs, his legs and arms flailing in the air before he stopped. And managed to stand upright on the Dragon's chest while turning to the Beast that looked so...

Pathetic.

No longer using and moving its tongue, the Golden Dragon had its head lying on the ground with its eyelids closed. But its ajar mouth and the small wavers in its movement indicated how broken and exhausted the Slave was. And yet, the Dragonborn advanced, began to step on the collarbone.

"Pull out, Slave," he ordered.

Only then to be met with a weak moan, a whisper from the Beast as its tongue moved and pulled, to uncoil... While the Orc had to endure and bear the sensation until his ass was finally free, and the tongue back into the Slave's mouth.

As for the rest of that worthless Beast's body? Cum oozed from its dick while its gaped asshole stood open and anointed by the Lurker's fluids like a love-letter to the Dragons' undoing. A scene of perversion the Orc observed by jumping off the Slave and watching, admiring... Even stepping on its tail before he grinned proudly at it. And stood naked in the wind, both arms on his hips, satisfied with himself.

"I always fancied a pet Dragon."