Iron Birds, chapter XXIX: A Fluffy One between Metal
Another chapter of my novel. Let me know what you think. I'm open to any criticism.
The dragoness lay on her back atop her spacious four-poster bed of fine dark wood, basking in the warm sunlight streaming through the room's arched windows, its rays caressing her scales like a fiery lover. Her scales were rough on her belly, head, and back down to the base of her tail (the latter two resembling pointed shingles), while the rest of her body was smooth. Though her body scales bore a faint silvery-purple, semi-pearlescent hue, the "tiles" on her forehead and head gleamed like pure silver. Despite measuring twenty meters from head to tail, she was as sculpted as an Olympian goddess, yet with gleaming, curved claws sharp as polished black iron. It's worth noting the roughness of her belly only extended halfway.
Her other attributes were no less striking. Two wings so thick they barely let light pass, identical in color and texture on both sides; eyes like twin sapphires; and four S-curved horns arching upward and slightly inward. Each pair of horns seemed to emerge from the same spot, the lower set slightly smaller. Nor could one overlook her attire: long strips of translucent violet silk, edged in 24-karat gold, draped over her body, legs, and snout, fastened by golden jewels and chains, just enough to not overshadow her divine hide. The strips on her snout were tied to her horns and a jeweled ornament: an oval-cut sapphire set in a 24-karat gold oval plate on the bridge of her nose.
The bed, too, was luxurious. Its posts were adorned with bronze-hued silk, matching the sheets, while the square pillows were crimson. How this dragoness reveled in her solitude, lost in the pleasure of her soft nest!
Though lying still, wings slightly spread, she burned inside. She awaited her mate, said to shine like a son of Helios. She imagined the sun's warmth was his paws tracing her body, stoking the fire within, a fire she expressed in tender leg twitches and gentle tail undulations. Lost in the heat, she purred softly, like a volcano venting steam through fissures. So relaxed was she that no part of her body resisted or tensed.
"Did something distract you, my dear Zeltaini?" the dragoness murmured, naming her mate. "I could lie here all day, content with this celestial wait the sun fuels. Honestly, I ought to leave you and wed Helios right now."
Her sighs and purrs grew louder. Though she didn't yet direct her limbs or tail toward the place reserved for Zeltaini, the fire in her chest and lower belly was nearly unbearable. She envisioned him before her, admiring her like the finest jewel, her playful paws teasing the air in response.
"I know you adore me, Zeltaini," she whispered feverishly. "I know you live for me. I know you're loyal, even surrounded by a thousand females."
Heat pooled in that sacred place. She couldn't suppress a cry:
"ZELTAINI!"
She felt ready to erupt, trembling as if on the verge of seizure—when suddenly, the chamber door opened.
"Zeltaini!" she gasped, her fire snuffed mid-blaze.
In the doorway stood what could only be called a living golden statue. A dragon twenty-four meters long, his scales resembling medieval armor plates, nearly seamless between belly and body. Flexible spines crowned his cheeks, framed by a subtle ruff. Like his mate, his head and neck bore pointed, tile-like scales, but forged of pure gold. Bronze teeth jutted from his jaws, and his bronze claws (on both paws and wings) looked sharp enough to gouge metal. Two massive, S-curved bronze horns matched his severe aquamarine eyes, while his tail bristled with backward-curving golden spikes, like teeth on an exorbitant saw. Two membranous, spiked rudders tipped his tail.
"Sudrabs," the golden dragon rumbled, his voice deep and regal.
"How fares our guest of honor?" asked the silver dragoness, Sudrabs.
"By the Lord's grace, he's nearly recovered," Zeltaini replied. "A miracle Piorun and the Burzliwans found him alive. He could've died, from what he told us." He eyed his wife. "What are you doing here, love?"
Sudrabs smirked, beckoning him with a forepaw. "Enjoying solitude," she silkened her voice. "Though I'd rather discuss this in bed, far pleasanter, and less taxing on you. Besides," she sweetened her tone, "I need you."
Zeltaini paused, drinking her in with his gaze. Fire kindled in him too, had he understood? Undoubtedly.
"You always need me," he affirmed. "That's why I'm here."
With a seductive growl, he advanced slowly, a knight admiring his lady. Each step echoed, stoking Sudrabs' desire.
Reaching the bed, Zeltaini continued his worship. He nuzzled her, inhaling her sweet, metallic musk, then climbed beside her, licking her face and neck.
"Well, Sudrabs," he murmured, enthralled, "what does my queen desire?"
"So our guest is nearly healed," she teased. "You were brave against that iron bird, and unlike Stymphalian fowl, which we keep at bay."
"Ah, times change, don't they, my queen?"
"They do," Sudrabs agreed. "But not the passion between mates like us. Our guest can wait. Will you spare me time, my king?"
"Of course, my queen," Zeltaini's voice dripped with honeyed seduction.
Instantly, they shared a kiss—metallic yet no less passionate, preluding what was to come.
"First, my king," Sudrabs nudged a teacup from the bedside table to his snout. Though cold, he drank dutifully.
"You know we must wait a while," she purred. " Why not show me more affection? I adore it. After all, you are 'The Golden One,' the sun's radiant dragon."
Zeltaini needed no further prompting. He lavished her with caresses, as Helios outside bathed them in light, turning the lovers into priceless jewels entwined on silk.
Once the tea took effect, Zeltaini positioned himself beneath Sudrabs' right thigh, his left hindleg raised, his forepaw resting on her shoulder. Their eyes locked, anticipating the moment.
"The 'Serpent's Embrace'?" Sudrabs asked.
"You said passion never changes," he countered.
"You're a seer," she laughed, voice laced with mischief.
The king hesitated no longer, but just as the key turned in the lock, knocks rattled the chamber door.
"Majesty!" a guard called.
"Yes?" Zeltaini snapped.
"Your guest requests you in the kitchen."
"A moment," the king grumbled.
He met Sudrabs' gaze. "What will you do?" she asked, smirking.
"My royal duty," Zeltaini sighed, as frustrated as his mate.
They strode through their Romanesque-Byzantine castle, its steel-like walls gleaming, gold inlaid throughout. Banners displayed crossed silver hammers on a golden sun, all against an orange field. Guards bowed deeply as they passed, until they reached the kitchen.
There sat their guest of honor: Sokol Azreivan, the fluffy, feathered general, slurping red bigdeer soup. Beside him was a young, iron-scaled dragoness, their daughter, Dzelz. Her light iron hide paled at the belly, her wing fronts crimson. A dark brown mane ran to her neck, her tail tipped with a matching tuft and a 24-karat gold ring. Her C-curved horns and short, sharp claws shone like polished silver. A fuchsia flower adorned her head, her corset and stockings woven with silver and gold vines. A ruby pendant graced her throat, a sight Sokol clearly admired, especially her ruby-like eyes.
"General Azreivan," Zeltaini greeted. "How goes it?"
"Splendid!" Sokol beamed. "Your daughter is most gracious, and beautiful!"
"Thank you, Sokol," Sudrabs said maternally. "You're not the first to say so of our 'little' Dzelz."
"'Little'?" Dzelz giggled.
"Your mother's right," Sokol sipped his soup, earning a playful hip bump from Dzelz that flushed his feathers.
"You know, parents," Dzelz began, "I think Sokol is..."
A metallic messenger burst in, cutting her off. "Majesty! Stymphalian birds attacking the southwest border, near Burzliwa!"
"Curse Ares, that blood-soaked war-lord!" Zeltaini spat. "Ariornis Arcadis, 'Ares' Bird,' I invoke your gods' wrath upon you!" He steeled himself. "No time to lose. We must drive those filthy fowl from the Storm and Külm valleys!"
"May I assist, Majesties?" Sokol offered.
"Are you certain, General?" Sudrabs fretted.
"If the Lord helped me against an iron bird, He'll aid me against Stymphalian fowl," Sokol declared.
The royals exchanged glances. Dzelz stared at Sokol. A decision had to be made.
"Very well," Zeltaini relented. "But you follow my orders, unless the Lord dictates otherwise."
"Understood, Majesties," Sokol bowed.