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Solace

Log Entry 126

_ It's been a couple of months since I first uplifted Anthony from his homeworld. I've been lucky. He's shown himself to be capable of using common sense, being tolerant, and able to learn the basics of universal existence. As such, he is evidence for supporting the theory that many individuals of a class-three species can themselves be considered class-two. Of course, these individuals are born from their upbringing and environmental influences. In Anthony's case, he had separated himself from the rest of his society after its structure had failed to support him in his times of crises._

_ This is another facet of the theory which has, until now, been mostly untouched. The current theory predicts that only the brightest individuals of a particular class-three species could possibly wield a mind open and adaptable enough for consideration into class-two, but I have seen that this is not the case._

I set my tablet down on my couch, stretched my wings a bit, and sighed. "Bah, I'll write the supporting evidence later."

I needed quite a bit less sleep than my human friend, and I often wrote about my experiences with him in a personal log while he was still asleep. Recently, it had been getting more difficult to get up without waking my counterpart since I'd often wake up with his arms wrapped around my body.

Sometimes it was hard to leave because I didn't want to wake him up by trying to leave the bed. What was happening more and more often, however, was that I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay and revel in the presence of his clinging body, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest as he snoozed.

My thoughts often drifted to the future. Everyplace I imagined, everywhere I stood, Anthony was there right next to me. Everyday, everywhere. And the thoughts made me feel warm.

The feelings had always been there for a long time. They'd been idle thoughts before, images I tried to ignore. I've mingled and had casual sex with lots of people before I met him, and still a bunch even within the past year. But there was something very different about him, something that made him special.

I fell in love with him.

I knew he'd felt the same about me since we first met. I didn't think much of it back then, but then we lived together and journeyed across the universe side-by-side. We got lost on public transit together. We saw suns and moons (and sometimes there were several) set and rise together. We were rarely ever separated, and I slowly grew attached to him over the past eleven months.

It wasn't until I'd nearly lost him that I'd realized how much I was in love. Or that the feeling I felt even was love. All the random flings and sexual encounters had really made me unable to recognize the feeling, but when I had Anthony in my arms, I knew what I felt was love.

A part of me had actively tried to resist him. I was born to a pair of loving but annoyingly strict parents. They'd tried to control every aspect of my childhood, and the yearning for freedom built up over my youthful years. It was when I got to college that my emotions burst and I was finally able to openly defy them. I had chosen a path they considered foolish, a "soft" science over "real" science, but my rebellion had given me a respite from their helicoptering parental style.

I'm sure they had expected me to go home one day crying and begging for their help. Well, more my dad, I suppose. My mother was a bit more neutral about whatever I wanted to do, and I really do appreciate her for helping me out financially whenever I was in desperate need. I try not to have that kind of issue, nowadays, but I'm still thankful she sends me some money occasionally. She's only strict because she goes along with what my dad does.

Right, my dad. He was an Alorkin. Started off as a lowly asteroid miner, but turned himself into the CEO of the mining company. He's got his hands in multiple galaxies. It's a long story my mom likes to tell, but basically he's tried to turn me into him. Trouble is, I don't care that much about making oodles of money. I just want enough to live comfortably. And to be free. Because I'd lived shackled to him for so long.

That was what I was afraid of. More chains. I had always equated the idea of a mate to a ball and chain. I would give up a lot of my freedom if I decided to settle down with someone.

I've thought about it a lot, and I've realized that's a load of youthfully conjured baloney. At least, it was proven false with my interaction with Anthony. He went wherever I went, and we shared the wonders of the universe. Anthony didn't shackle me to a bland relationship--he gave me purpose. He gave me happiness. I guess that's the difference between love and true love, yeah?

I picked up the tablet again and switched to another application. I stared at the green and red arrows that appeared on the screen and smiled.

My mom was a dragon, which meant that she was rich. Damn rich. Dragons, for the most part, had accumulated their wealth a very long time ago and didn't have to work at all to keep making money--they had lived so long that most knew how to game the markets so that they were incredibly adept at making profitable investments. I mean, my mom probably had enough to buy a star system outright if she wanted too, and then she could buy another planet every month to add to it thanks to her investments. That wasn't a dragon's style, though. They were mostly in nomadic groups which would settle on a planet, make their glamorous homes, get bored of it in a thousand years or so, and then pack up and move on to another world.

It's a pretty coincidence that the previous world my mother had settled on was Anthony's home planet. Earth. It had, according to online accounts, been a comfortable planet with moderate temperatures, moderate gravity, and high enough air pressure that it was a good workout for dragon wings without being too strenuous (although my half Alorkin self couldn't fly when I was there). Evidently, dragons hadn't considered the dominant indigenous life form, humans, to be intelligent or numerous enough to warrant relocation until they'd started either attacking them or worshipping them as gods, depending on where they were. Anthony had confirmed this as an intriguing difference in culture, a marked division between eastern and western dragons.

As fascinating as that was, I was currently more entangled with a field I was less familiar with. I had learned a bit of how to play the markets from my mom, so for the most part I do pretty well on my own with stocks and bonds and all that jazz. I'd used up all the money I'd gotten from a police bounty some time ago on a replacement artificial gravity generator (it only went up to about seven meters per second squared, but Anthony was okay with it, and it was affordable and came with a warranty), so now I needed some more to buy Anthony a one-year anniversary present. Something to commemorate our first year together. Something to go along with an "I love you."

I rubbed the side of my muzzle. Gods, that still sounded strange in my head. I never thought I'd utter those words until I was at least five hundred years old or something.

I shrugged my wings and grabbed a hold of the tablet. After focusing on the numbers a bit, I smiled. One of my stocks had popped since last week, and there was enough for the gift I had planned.

After this anniversary splurge though, I knew I had to start ferrying people and cargo a bit. I'd told Anthony it would happen sooner or later too, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind now that he sleeps in the bed with me.

Really though, I'm banking on my book to sell. I was almost done with the log entries, and if my school professors didn't like my research writing and ethnography, I was prepared to self-publish a book about Anthony and his species. I'm pretty sure they were interested though because the only reason they cut my research grant was that I was doing everything too slowly.

Meh. I had all the time in the universe.

I spent the next half hour searching for the gift I was planning on buying. It was going to be new, something in a condition where I knew it wouldn't break, but it had to be a cheaper model by necessity. I found a few stores on several nearby worlds and picked the one offering the lowest price that was still reputable.

I meandered my way into the cockpit, ignored Mary's attempts to irk me, and set a course for the shop. ETA was another half hour. Anthony would be awake in about one, so I had to make my purchase quickly.

I plopped back down onto the couch, my tail hanging off one armrest, my horns hooked right past the other, and my wings lazily hanging off the back and front sides. For a minute, I didn't do anything but get myself comfy.

The next minute, something started bothering me. Something was getting stiff between my legs.

I tilted my head down. Ah, a late morning wood. Well, half an hour was plenty to take care of that.

I softly grasped my black cock, a slick thing shining against my grey scales, with my left hand and started slowly stroking myself, totally ignoring the fact that Mary could barge in on me at any time. I'd just shove her off and threaten to cum on her cameras if she said anything.

My hands rubbed along my shaft, my scales bumping against its cool texture. I let out a little moan, and my eyes closed while I became lost in my own little world.

My mind replaced my hand with Anthony's lips. I pictured him suckling my black shaft, his sweet eyes looking up at my face and full of need and hope that he was pleasing me. I let out another moan to satisfy those longing eyes, those brown wells a window to his sadness.

I've heard his story, and it's terrible to know what's happened to him. But when I look into his eyes--and I mean really look because he hides it well--I can see the scars, the hurt, that he's suffered. It was those eyes, I think, that compelled me to help him in whatever way I could. Well, that was the case, at least, before I think I fell in love with him.

He's gotten better, I think. From the way he's told me his stories, it sounded as if he hadn't known real happiness in a long time until he'd met me. The wounds are still there though. He's younger than I am, but he's known much more about life than I did. I was just starting to learn. I had a taste of why my parents were such control-freaks when I'd nearly lost Anthony, but I won't let myself or my mate be confined to a safe little cage. Unless he wanted us to be, but I doubt he will. Not, at least, until we were very old.

He's been locked up in a cage his entire life. His little world was his prison. Now he was stuck in my dinky little ship, but he's free. Anywhere in the universe was at his call, err, as long as I had gas money.

My hand started flopping. Oh, great, I was softening up with all this thinking. I'd never had this happen before I picked up Anthony, but, well, there's stuff to think about now.

I worked my cock until it was hard again and thought of something else. No eyes, not right now.

I imagined Anthony on top of me. He was well-built and layered with more muscle than an average Alorkin, and I was pretty sure that in a straight up one-on-one wrestling fight where I couldn't fly or bite he'd be able to knock me down. Sure, half of me was from an incredibly physically powerful species, but my Alorkin half really made me sleek and slender. I'd have to work out a lot daily to ever have a shot of sculpting out more muscle than he had on him.

Not to say that I was incredibly weak or anything, it's just that my muscles were a lot leaner. I'm built for speed, endurance, and flight, not power. Anthony and I would have to be put into a small boxing cube for him to ever be able to catch me and force me down.

Now that was something to imagine. A gruff, handsome human locked in a nude cage match against a half-Alorkin dragon. The moment that bell rung, I'd turn and try to run along the edge. Don't look back, that's the key to running away successfully. But then there's a firm pressure against the tip of my tail, and I let out a loud yip as I feel my whole my body start toppling over.

I hit the ground and know he's got a firm grip on my tail. I try to roll, but I wasn't as prepared for my fall as he was. Before I knew it, I had a slab of muscular flesh pressed on top of me, crushing my wing roots right at the edge of pain.

A low, rumbling voice enters my ears. "You're mine."

I shiver, a temporary cold quickly banished by an ignition of lust. Heat broths around my loins, just as it was doing in real life, and my hand kept on pumping to soothe that boiling pressure.

In the ring, I try to struggle. The bell rings once. My legs try to kick him off, but he remains steadfast and applies more of his weight to my wing roots, sending me just enough pain to stop fighting. The bell rings again. I surrender. The bell rings a final time, and he wins.

I imagine an audience around the arena. Yeah, nothing like a little voyeurism to make a spicy fantasy even hotter, right? That's right, a whole audience of an assorted blend of creatures from all around the universe, watching these two naked guys wrestle each other to the ground. Anthony wins, so now he receives his prize in front of everyone.

He lifts himself off of me, relieving the stress at the base of my wings, but applies a strong grip around the root of another appendage. He manhandles my tail aside, revealing my clenched ass, an oasis of soft flesh amongst a sea of scales.

He wastes no time in attacking that weak spot, that hole in my armor. His fat-headed spear rams hard into my tail hole, spreading my ass wide. Daydream physics didn't require lube, thankfully, and Anthony went straight to fucking me, claiming his prize in front of all the spectators so everyone would know that I belonged to him.

And he was mine. We were soul mates.

My daydream brought the front row audience into focus. A lot of them were people Anthony and I had met, some of which we've had sex with, but many just guys I had thought looked pretty sexy in passing. There were a few avians, a couple with beaks, along with several Alorkinoid beings, although there was one or two four-legged species, one of which was reptilian and had a hot hemipenes. I remember the fun we had with that guy--Anthony and I had a tag-team suck off with his dual cocks while we were taxiing him somewhere. Got ourselves a large tip for that one, yep, along with a pretty sweet load of cum for the two of us.

They were enjoying the show quite a bit. Anthony was pulling on my hair and fucking my brains out while I was leaking fluids all over the floor from between my legs, and I could see them all quickly join into one giant orgy. A fox I remembered, I think his name was Ryan, was at the center of it all, the slutty canine getting loads of white soaked in his fur.

That was a damn hot fantasy, and my cock was practically begging to let go of its load. My hand stroked faster, but my mind drifted from a rough sexy daydream into something a little more realistic.

Physically speaking, Anthony should be on top of me more often than not. Adding his emotions into the mix, however, would flip that around. He'd need a bit of help and guidance when taking my tail, especially after his stories about his previous boyfriend.

Gods, I'd love to give that man a good tail whipping. What kind of boyfriend would demand to be a one-hundred percent top all the time? Not just that, but what sort of sapient being would abandon another in his time of need? I would've stayed with Anthony, I would've been there to try and help him find another job, I would've been there to prop him up when his mother had no one to lean on but him--

Gah. My hands were shaking with anger. Stop it, stop thinking along such negative lines! I was late to his life, but I will love him. But damn, I wanted to waltz into my bedroom right now and tell him so badly.

But I also wanted to make it a special moment.

I tilted my head towards the bedroom where he was snoozing gently. "Just a little longer," I whispered. "I promise."

Just another day. Then I'll show you love.

My mind conjured an image of that. I was on top now, my hardened black cock waiting at the gate for my mate to be ready. Anthony was on my--our bed, his rear right on the edge of the mattress and his face facing up. His legs were raised, his taut ass presented to me, and those eyes were looking at me again, longing and full of hope.

I leaned over his body and looked into them despite my earlier warning to myself not to. It was in this dream, after I'd told him how I felt about him, that his sadness was absent from his eyes. There was only passion, joy, and need, a burning need for my love.

It made me harder than anything. My strokes were slowed down somewhat because of an obstacle in my hand, an indicator of how good I felt. My knot was totally engorged, and every bump of my hand against those two bulbs sent shocks of pleasure up my spine. I was so close now, so close to showering myself with my seed.

"Please," Anthony whispered.

I smiled warmly at him and moved my hips forward, slowly and sensually.

I was panting on the couch, my tongue lolling like a canine's. So close now...

That familiar spark shot up my tail, dug through my taint, and burrowed through my knotted cock.

The tapered tip of my rock hard shaft touched Anthony's hole.

I couldn't hold back anymore. My eyes closed shut as my balls tensed and the spark hit the end of my throbbing member, and I tried to tilt my head up out of reflex, but my horns hooked onto the sofa's armrest.

"Fuuuck," I moaned, feeling warm fluids splatter all over my plate scales all the way up to my neck.

I could feel my seed flowing through my pulsing cock, my heat shooting out of my body and filling all the crevices between my scales. I fired out several streaks of cum, a productive trait blessed to me by my draconic heritage, and I savored the bliss of orgasm.

After about two more minutes, my belly was absolutely soaked and my hand was still feeling weak dribbles of seed flowing out of my softening cock. My knot was still there, but it would deflate before the ship would get to its destination. My mind had skipped through the dream, and I pictured myself now with Anthony. I was lying back against a tree, facing the rise of a blue sun, and he was in my arms, snuggling against my body and watching the foreign landscape light up.

We said the words to each other.

And then my ears were filled with real words from an irritating female voice, dragging me out of my imagination. "You have about five minutes to wash your nasty genetic code off before we dock."

"Got it," I said in a snappy tone, ignoring Mary's insult on instinct. "Good morning, by the way."

"It's evening where we're going," my AI said.

I rolled my eyes. "You know I mean by universal standard time."

"Four minutes."

"Alright, alright, damn." I've never had a sister, but I'm sure it would've been like having Mary around all the time. Ugh, that would've been horrifying to have growing up.

I cleaned myself up in the shower and put on some pants before the ship approached the docking platform closest to the shop I was looking for. While Mary maneuvered the ship, I picked up the next book from the box of old paper novels Anthony had brought with him from Earth and set it on the table by my couch. The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Ah, the sequel to the surprisingly sometimes dead-on accurate book about the galaxy we'd read before, that would be fun.

There was a light thump, and I stepped towards the exit hatch. I couldn't wait to see how his eyes would change after our anniversary, his hope fulfilled at last...