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Chapter 5.

18:30, Monday, the 5th of March. 2028.

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By the time the taxi had rolled up, Mum had come out to see me, still dressed in her fine red jumper and leggings, sporting a wine stain I did my best not to notice. She stood to the side, small, bony hands by her narrow hips, seemingly waiting for something. For me to say sorry, for me to explain, for me to speak first.

I couldn't. There were a million things I wanted to say to her in that instance, but I just couldn't bring myself to. Maybe I'd overreacted. Maybe. All I knew was that I wanted to see Hrodvitnir, so that's what I did.

Her face, pointed and thin, brows drawn tight together, was the picture of tension, as if torn between every emotion simultaneously. But it wasn’t enough to sway me.

I walked away, asked the driver if the ride was for me, which it, of course, was, and climbed inside the stuffy, too-warm cab. Through the grimy window, cracked in the corner, I saw the woman who'd fed me, clothed me and helped me through the difficult days after Dad died. I very nearly climbed out and ran to her, but I stopped myself. It took an effort, but I survived. The car pulled away, nerves escaping me in one long, bone-rattling exhale.

“Wyrm’s way, yeah?” Asked the driver, his accent heavy enough that it took me a second to decipher. “Dragon place?”

I sat up straight and took in a long, slow breath. “Yes, please. Anywhere on that street.” Even still, I decided to call Hrod up. It took too long – my fingers were shaking – even with speed dial.

It rang once, twice, and then, on the last buzz, they answered. “Hey,” Hrod began, clearly chewing something. “What’s up? You finish dinner?”

I froze.

“I…”

What could I have even said?

“Cole?”

My fingers caught the fabric of my jeans and grabbed a hold.

“Cole, are you alright?”

That I’d run out of the house, almost in tears because I’d gotten tipsy and my family’s mildly needling comments had caused me to freak out?

“C-Can I see you? Now? I’m heading to Wyrm’s Way.”

The sharp intake of breath, followed then by a rustle of soft-sounding material. “Oh, shit. Okay, j-just wait a bit, wait a bit.” And then shouting, which I was unable to make out. “Ah, fucking Skie, her work is like thirty minutes from home. Can you change routes?”

“I-I'm already paid.” Technically I could have, but the cost would be too much, and I felt too awkward. “I'm so sorry. I-I don't mean to put you out. I just—” My voice caught. “I just had to get out of the house.”

“It's alright. Just… give me a second to think.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Cole, just—”

“S-Sorry.”

“Cole!” They snapped, voice rising. “Shut up a second.” I nodded, trying as hard as I was able to breathe. “Okay. Go to Wyrm’s Way, and please try to reach the cafe. I’ll set off now and find you, and then I’ll... I’ll bring you back here. C- Can you do that?”

Slow breaths.

“Yeah, I can. It’s just my mum. I think I fucked up.”

More rustling, followed by the gentle padding of paws on something soft.

“Caithfidh mé dul,” they said. “Tá Cole i dtrioblóid. Beidh mé ar ais go luath.”

"Anois?" Called out a softer voice. One I didn’t recognise.

"Sea, anois. Tá brón orm, ach caithfidh mé é seo a dhéanamh."

The call ended.

The driver asked me something, but I was too numb to answer. Fear and guilt in measures that swapped, lined and etched with elation. I’d ‘come out’; I’d shown my true self to my family. They knew now, and yet it’d made everything that much worse.

#

I climbed out of the too-warm, too-stuffy car and stepped out onto the kerb. I wasn't as buzzed as I'd thought myself to be. I could think clearly, carefully hear my own voice in my head and dissect choices. At the dinner, even when drowning in cheap rice wine, I'd been conscious.

My ‘righteous anger’, It had been building for some time, and I'd needed some excuse to let it out – some target. No matter the end results. Tom had helped, in a way, but I couldn't blame him for how things had ended up, nor credit him.

My own reward, my own punishment.

The streets were not empty, to my surprise. Dragons of all sizes and shapes still roamed them, some in packs, some by their lonesome. Some were great snakes, not even really dragons, whilst others had as many limbs as spiders.

Honestly, the only thing they had in common was that they were all scaled.

The streetlights cast a low, sombre glow, bouncing multicoloured lights from the beasts, but to my eyes, it was blinding. The street signs, despite only being a few years old and in an English-speaking country, were entirely in the dragon’s written language, which to me was essentially gibberish.

Still, I began walking up the street, keeping my eye out for something that resembled a cafe. Which I, of course, had no reference for, so for nearly five extremely tense, sweat-inducing minutes, I walked forward, getting looks and even some comments from the surrounding creatures.

A handful of insults, a few concerned voices and even one or two attempts at… solicitation?

The drink's benefits had long since faded, leaving only a dry mouth and a headache, exacerbated by the noise and light and smells all around me – I hadn't noticed how nice Hrodvitnir smelt at first, but all the spice, fish and oils were making me dizzy.

In fact, I was so dizzy that I tripped on a tile and would've smashed my nose into the pavement had my own flailing hands not caught me.

My palms stung, and the sudden change in position made me feel nauseous. People around me stopped; some spoke, but I didn't recognise the language. And then, at last, some familiarity.

“Cole?” Hrod’s snout was an inch away from my nose, and from down there I could see each smooth violet scale on their muzzle and count the spines that trailed down their scalp.

They nosed their head beneath the crook of my arm and began lifting me up. I held on, focused on my footing, and stumbled awkwardly back to my feet. “Thanks. I tripped on someone's tail and—”

They hugged me.

They reared up on their lithe hind legs, placed their paws on my shoulders and pulled me into their smooth, plated underside, head finding its way to my back, paws tightening so much it hurt. I didn't move, not at first. What were they doing, I wondered, lost. And then the heat and comfort and pressure settled into my body, slow and seeping, so much I nearly collapsed all over again.

I returned the gesture as best as I could, pressing them against me so tightly it hurt my neck to do so. My fingers dug into slim muscle, nails scraping smooth scales. I breathed them in – earthy, musky and… minty? Some kind of wash, I realised.

They laughed.

“A-Are you sniffing me?”

If I'd have flushed any harder, I might've burnt them. Worse still was that all I could do to save face was to bury my head more firmly against their hide, literally burying my shame.

They didn't mind, not really. They giggled and rubbed my head like a chipper pet, but the way they didn't let go but rather held me more firmly told me they needed it just as much as I did.

“...Are you okay, Cole?”

A simple question. One I didn’t answer – couldn’t. Too much. Too soon. Was I homeless? No, right? Mum, I thought, fingers tightening against their hide, wouldn’t do that to me.

“Cole?”

I let go. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed a minute out of the house. Sorry.” Without decree, we began walking, Hrod leading me away. “I didn’t spook you, did I? I know you were with your sister.”

“It's cool,” they said, flipping a paw. “She said I could bring you over for a bit. I'm staying for a few days, so… you… uh. What's… What's happening?”

“Uh, I kind of told my mum about you and…” I paused. What had happened? “Family were being dicks and talking about, like, families and girlfriends, and then my mum said…” I tried to remember and tried not to make myself seem like I was oversensitive. “I don't know, she just- like- said it wasn't normal I never brought any girls home, only this guy friend of mine; Ethan.”

Hrod looked thoughtful. Not supportive or furious on my half, but like they were trying to figure something out. “That's… Mm.” They clicked their jaw and flicked a long, webbed ear. “Wait. Did she kick you out?”

“No,” I said, swallowing. “I was tipsy, and my uncle kept sniping at me, talking about college and how amazing his kids are. I just had to get out.”

“Do you think-”

Their phone began buzzing.

“Sorry,” the drake said quickly. “I think it's Sorcha.”

They reached into a satchel attached to their front and took it out, sitting back for more comfort. The dragons around us, like worker ants, swerved around them, not at all bothered by the obstruction.

“Hey, Sorcha. He- Yeah, we're at, uh… fuck." Hrod looked around, tail twitching, scales scraping against the pavement, and said, “Morrigan’s. Like twenty minutes. Why– Oh, wait, yeah?” The pitch of their voice pricked up like their ears. “Y-Yeah, that’d be cool.” A smile, broad and wide, almost goofy, stretched across their muzzle, so tight that their sharp teeth peeked over. “...What are you telling him anyway?”

I stood back, hands in my pockets; the dictionary definition of awkwardness. Luckily for my mental state, however, they noticed. “Cole,” they said, flipping the phone around. “Sister’s asking if you want to stay the night after we get some food. My treat.”

I'd never said yes faster. Never felt so seen and wanted. They spoke some more to their sister, got some directions, and off we went. We walked side to side, close, and on instinct, I reached for a hand to hold, only to realise why that wouldn't exactly work. Hrodvitnir didn't even have a wing to clutch.

“You're adorable,” they said, leaning in close, brushing their snout against the underside of my jaw. “But you don't have a tail to coil.” And then a gentle nibble. “So stick close – I don't want some hen stealing you away from me.”

Hen. A female dragon or avian. Female. I turned the idea over in my head as the feeling of their body pressed against my own soothed me. I'd not ‘picked’ a female, which meant no kids, no family. But, I reminded myself, even if they had been an egg layer, there was no chance of children. A dead end on the family tree; a snapped branch.

A dragon bumped into me, gave me and my ‘mate’ a dirty look, got one back, and kept on walking. Hrod nuzzled me a second time and continued.

No kissing. We'd never, I noticed. We'd slept together and yet hadn't once kissed. No clue why being clipped by some sour-looking, golden-eyed dragon’s wing had knocked that thought into my head, but it did.

Kids. Kisses. Too much to think about, especially for a relationship that was days old, not counting the weeks of teasing one another. Where was the fun? Where was the impulsivity? Why was I like this?

My hands clenched, fingernails digging into my palms. Why, why, why? No college, no fun house parties. School. Work. Unemployment.

And now, rather than having fun, what was I doing?

I looked at them sidelong, at their stride, at the small, cheery smile, at the way their amber eyes seemed to glow in the dull lights. Had I really tried to turn them away all because, what? I’d been conflicted?

I grabbed them, fingers wrapping around a long, split horn, the other on their jaw, and turned them towards me, planting a small, anxious kiss against their scaled cheek. They were warm, warmer than me, and smooth. Scales that let air flow for speed and momentum. My lips tingled, and my hands shook slightly.

It felt good, but the funny look they gave, brow ridges raised, eyes wide, made me pull back.

They returned it a second later, quick and chipper and excited. A quick peck on the forehead that they laughed at and did twice more. “Cole, baby, you kiss like a virgin.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fu-Fu-Fuck you, Hrod,” they repeated, voice trembling in mockery, a paw raised to hold their muzzle in a faux gasp. “Wu-Why-”

“I literally do not sound—”

“Wh-Why’d you make me gay—”

“You didn’t—”

“Yeah, I did. You were all—”

“You didn't!”

“Man, I-I really like this person, but-but dick!”

“Straight up—” I stuttered and jammed a finger against their side. “I don't sound like that at all.”

“But is dick good? Question mark? Let dragon—”

“Don't—”

“-Knot my mouth? Hmmmm?”

My cheeks heated up, and it took a hearty mental reminder that we were in public to calm myself. It hurt just how much it affected me. All I could do about it, too, was try and not look so rattled. I failed. Miserably. I could physically feel just how warm my cheeks were, to the point it stung my eyes.

“But hey,” they continued, “at least you got to bust. Bet it felt…” They looked over – I couldn't see it, but I felt the way their composure shifted. I thought they'd backtrack, say sorry, or make some lame, comforting gesture. But no. They bumped me so hard that I tripped and nearly smacked my head against a wall. “Do I have to abuse you to… oh, sorry. Didn't mean to whack you that hard.”

“Why'd you whack me at all?” I snapped back, harsh. The interruption, the stumble – it made me flare up all at once.

“Because you were pulling that face!” They laughed, but it felt uncertain, like they weren't sure what else to do in the moment. “All sad and embarrassed. What, you having the most delayed post-nut on the planet?”

I almost shouted, almost yelled, about how stressful and busy the past two days have been, but then, as I watched them, I realised that they weren't a mind reader; that they couldn't possibly know. From their perspective I'd been cold the night after we'd slept together and then warm and chipper over text. Hot and cold without an in-between.

I muttered an apology and kept walking, painfully aware of the fact they didn't walk as close beside me as they had before.

#

The café, which was oddly still open despite the late hour, was rather… warm. Soft lighting, cushions instead of chairs and a general air of community. The smell of meat, both cooked and raw, was oddly soothing in how simple the flavouring seemed. Each cup was some kind of mug, except for those served to the serpents, who had literal bowls of water which they stuck their long muzzles into to guzzle from.

I must've been staring, as once again, Hrod bumped me. But then, “Don't stare at the lindwyrms,” they whispered. I opened my mouth. “I'm not kidding. Don't.” I shut it.

The tables were low to the ground, barely a foot or two high. They led me to a larger table close to the window before handing me a small, paper menu. Half was in a language that resembled literal chicken scratch, and the rest was rather poorly translated English.

“Just a chicken sandwich, please.” I paused. “Cooked.”

Hrod smiled. “I guessed. But I'm not a server, dude, so tell him that.” And plopped down opposite me, atop their own cushion.

My eyes roamed the café, catching on posters I couldn't read and art I couldn't appreciate. The lindwyrms, whom I originally thought to be true snakes, were in fact not. They had small forelimbs, clawed things, just about large enough to be of use. Vestigial, almost. An evolutionary line that was purely alien. One caught me looking and fixed me with a nasty glare.

“Cole, I said I was serious – do not stare at them. I mean it. You're lucky they can't speak English.” Hrod's tone dropped sharply, and when I didn't show enough fear, they continued, “They're part of the royal family that owns this hive. Piss them off and you're gone. Nothing I can do about it.”

I stared at them, mouth agape.

“I didn't think they'd be here,” they said, voice calming. “The only reason I'd let Oisin anywhere near this place is because my sister is friends with the older 'princess', so they don't bother her. You'd be fair game.”

“I don't-” I swallowed. “Holy fucking shit, you're serious. O-Or are you just fucking with me?”

“I’m not…” They said quietly. “But the reason you never see dragons in the military or the police is because the old family forbids it. I’m not kidding when I say they fund almost everything here. Sorcha says that’s why the council ignores what they do – they’re that rich.”

“How?” I whispered back.

“Gold,” they shrugged, muscular shoulders rolling. “Lindwyrms were always heavy on treasure, so I guess when they came over, they brought it, set up accounts and just… took over. They’re not too bad, at least. Again, they fund the hive: schools, food and protection.”

I waited for a but that never came, but I could feel it. Unspoken.

Instead we sat in silence, both of us pretending to examine the menus. Normally loud and boisterous, mocking, teasing, yet ever right, they looked pensive. Guilty? They shouldn’t have.

“...Sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to be so hot and cold… I-I’m sorry.”

“It's only been a day and a half,” the drake replied. “I get it; it's new and weird. I'm not mad you're still shaky.” Not the whole truth. I heard the hurt. “I just wish you'd talk about it, instead of just beating around the bush.” And then they smiled. Broad, all teeth and bright. “I'm sensitive, you know?”

“I know.” A beast passed, heavy. A drake in the back laughed at something on his phone. “It's just hard. I always liked you, you know – you were all confident and loud, and you're, uh, really fucking good-looking. And then when I found out you weren't… what I thought you were, it kind of messed with my head.” I took a breather to centre my thoughts. “But it didn't, like, um—fuck. It didn't… stop me?”

They arched a brow. “Right.”

“But—” I stopped. Where was I going? ”I… liked… it. Even, like, returning the favour. It's just weird. And now my mum knows, and it's all fucked up, and I—I don't even know what's happening anymore.”

One of the cafe’s servers – an oakey brown dragon with a sour expression – came over and asked for our orders. Hrod got some kind of stew, whilst I asked for a chicken sandwich, once again making sure it was cooked. He nodded, stopped to regard Hrod, who more than returned the suddenly unfriendly glance.

I watched the bulky dragon go. “...You should talk to your mum when you get back,” they said, not bothering to spare the guy a second glance. Instead, their attention was solely on me. “She doesn’t sound as bad as mine, and I don’t want you to go through what I did. Having almost no family.” A talon curled against the edge of the menu they still held, digging into the cheap card. “It’s not fun.”

Near instantly, I tensed up. “B-But she—” I stammered. “Why would I want to talk to her after she said all that?! Saying I'm not normal? S-Saying I have to find a wife and have kids. Isn’t that-” I stopped. Had she said that, exactly that? Had she really?

I thought back quickly so it wouldn’t seem like I was staring off into space, mind empty. Had she? Really?

Hrod looked on at me, kindly, softly. As if waiting for me to make a decision.

“I'll talk to her,” I said. “But my family can be so… too much… at times. I-I hate how they don't care about me; it's always what I've done or who I've spoken with. I don't feel like—” I swallowed a lump. “I don't feel like I matter, like Cole matters. Like I'm just a background prop.”

Their mouth opened and closed before shutting. Their ears flicked once, twice, then once more as they raised a paw to hold their chin. An oddly human gesture for someone that walked on all fours. Truth be told, it was so out of place I found myself staring as their face ran through a multitude of expressions, each vastly different from the other.

And then.

“...Can I talk with her?”

I blink.

“Uh. What?” I startled. “What? No? Why?”

“I don't…” They pursed their ‘lips’ and paused, thinking. “I-I don't want to diminish how you're feeling, but I think you're… assuming too much… maybe.” They bent down to lap at their water – I hadn't even noticed it being brought over. “Have you talked to her properly?”

Normally, I might've popped off. Threw a hissy fit. But in that space, foreign but warm, I didn't. “No, not properly.” I wiped at my nose. My head still hurt. “When would I ever get the chance? And, like, why?” The back of my eyes throbbed in dull, aching waves.

“Because it bothers you?”

I had this… Spiel up my arse. A mini rant about how life wasn't so simple. About how I couldn't just have an act two resolution, but really, that was an excuse. I could. I could just talk to her and get it over with. Be honest.

I reached up, rubbed both eyes, put my face in my palms and leaned forward.

“Too much has happened,” I whispered. “I-It’s been two days, Hrod. Two days. I can't take all this stress. You, work, Tom, my cousin. I've got this, uh, important meeting soon, too.”

Like a warm, scaly lifeline, a paw found my forearm, talons wrapping around me gently. Then harshly. I flinched and sat up. Their snout was an inch from mine, their breath warm and gentle.

“You're fucking gay, bro.”

…

…

“...W-What?”

They continued, still too close, grip too harsh. “You literally came—”

“Hrod!”

“-Inside me and then sucked my dick. You're definitely not straight, and whoopty-doo! Nobody cares, and anyone who does care is a piece of shit you shouldn't bother with.”

“It's not that easy.”

“Yes, it is! It is! Stop being so stupid. When we get back to my sister's, I'm taking you straight to bed.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes, I am. I definitely am.”

Frazzled, I sat up straighter, only for them to mimic me, exaggerated, wide-eyed and everything, mouth agape in shock and offence. I almost laughed. They were just so them. I felt slapped, shaken and cold and awake.

“Talk to your mum tomorrow,” they continued, eyes still boring into mine. “After tonight. After you've had a lovely chicken sandwich and seen how cute my nephew is. And THEN I'll lend you some money for a suit or whatever else you need for work, and Cole, hun, you are paying me back with sexual favours.”

Flabbergasted, utterly appalled and just a little smitten.

All at once.

And then guilt.

“...Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry. Own being a homo. Be gay, do crimes, or whatever the online humans say.” They took a hearty slurp of their meal before pointing at my own, which had seemingly formed from thin air. “Now be a good boy and eat your food.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

They smiled, finally pleased.

I took a bite of my chicken sandwich. It was actually pretty good, better made than I thought a dragon chef could perform. Good enough for me, at least, and then some.

As we ate our meals, another diner appeared. Another lindwyrm whom I did my best not to stare at. She was a soft, calm red, almost pink, with a gentle grey underside that seemed at odds with her murky, bile-coloured eyes, which sat squat in a pair of black sclera sockets. A large pair of white, ram-like horns sat atop her scalp. A small violet cape was wrapped around the spot just where her small, near vestigial forelimbs rested.

Despite her soft demeanour, however, each and every resident stood to attention – even the server who was determined to appear as miserable as possible put on an anxious smile.

The interloper didn't mind. If anything, she seemed used to it.

She slithered forward, sniffed the air with a forked tongue, found something – me – and turned to us, head tilted. “Hello,” she said softly, her tone half questioning. Her eyes flicked over to Hrod, then back to me. “...Is that yours?”

“Yes,” they said quickly, voice shrill, head raised. A mix of fear and pride. “M-My mate. Yes. Mine.”

The snake didn’t let up the stare, as though probing. Her nostrils flared minutely, her tongue flicked out again, and for a moment, long, sharp, likely venomous fangs were visible. But then she lost interest, expression dulling as she slithered over to the front counter, small foreclaws fiddling with the hem of her cape.

Hrod let out a long, slow breath before getting to their paws. “Let's go,” they said, not a trace of patience nor subtlety to them. “W-We should head to my sister's. Now. Please.” I got up.

“Hm?” The lindwyrm hummed, turning back over. Again, that odd head tilt. “Leaving, Hrodvitnir?”

Hrod nodded.

The snake smiled. “So soon? You've not finished your meal.”

Hrod swallowed and nodded.

“Would you like a pack to carry your leftovers?”

“Uh. I-I don't want to, like, impose, plus it's stew. We're just heading to Sorcha’s. Family trip! We wouldn't want to make her wait any longer.”

A broader smile. Her eyes, already narrow, shrunk to sharp slits, long fangs peeking over. “I think you should take a pack, for his food, at least,” she insisted. “Human? Pretty thing? Come here and take a bag. For me, at least. I wouldn't want my sister's playmate going hungry.”

And then she waited.

I didn't risk making her wait too long. I strode over and stole a glance at her little claws, which I noticed were wrapped in fine blue gloves. And then, like a complete moron, I held my fucking hand out. “I'm Cole. Nice to meet you…?”

She stared at my hand, slit pupils widening as she observed the offered limb. And then she leaned forward, gave me a quick lick on the palm with a terrifyingly long tongue and leaned back. “Kara-Cerys,” the lindwyrm replied.

The drake passed me a cheap cardboard bag – tried to – it fluttered to the ground.

We all watched it.

“...Pick that up.”

The drake picked it up, leaning down low enough for Kara to suddenly swivel, her long, powerful, slightly pudgy body twisting hard enough to whip him in the side of the neck with the end of her tail. He yelped like a kicked pup, passed me the bag carefully and retreated into the depths of the kitchen.

Nobody said anything.

Not about what herself had said nor the dark blood dripping from her tail. I'd barely seen her so much as twitch – I didn't dare imagine what the outcome might've been if it'd been my arm.

Or head.

And then, with a small paw, the serpent reached over to pat me on the head. I took it, too terrified to do aught else. In all my senseless crying and sobbing, I'd forgotten there existed worlds beyond my own; that Hrod was not simply a-

“I wish my human was as well-behaved as you,” Kara exhaled longingly. “But run along now, please. I've had a long night and need pastries. Go on, pet, shoo.” She even made the noises as she wiggled a gloved paw in the direction of the exit.

I ran along now. Packed the half-eaten sandwiches in the bag and joined a shaky Hrod outside, who, upon seeing I was still in one piece, began jogging away, just fast enough to signal our retreat without leaving me in the dust.

“Who—”

“Her family owns this territory. She's basically a princess, and if you touch her, they'll kill you.”

“Oh.”

#

The walk back was silent but not cold. I kept close to them, suddenly very aware at last of how hard a life they must've had. I had my problems, my own difficulties, but so did they, and they'd spent time trying to help me. My issues weren't suddenly fixed, however, not at all – it took more than a talking to over a chicken sandwich, but I knew what I had to do.

Still, I barely even registered reaching Sorcha’s home, nor Hrodvitnir unlocking the front door and letting us both inside. It was only when the smell of oil and odd spices hit me that I woke up.

_…_Odd, was my first thought. Every piece of furniture was about two feet lower than it should have been. No second floor, either. Almost like a hobbit hole, or a cave. It was also dark, with only faint, dim lights to guide me. I wondered if dragons had better eyes.

Hrod had never brought it up, and, truth be told, I’d never asked. Dragons and other creatures had become almost commonplace. The magic faded somewhat, and yet… How could I forget?

They were in front of me. As real as I was. A creature from fantasy, lounging about, making snarky comments, helping me realise things. It was almost enough to make me laugh. Or cry.

But Sorcha’s place was so warm, so unexpectedly soft, that I just couldn’t. I stuck by my mate’s side as they guided me into a dining room, where, for the first time in a good while, I saw a dragon other than them. She was red, for a start, almost pink, with soft, kind blue eyes, a creamy underside and quills longer and more feather-like than her sibling’s. Smaller, too – her head, from what I guessed, just barely reached my shoulders.

By her side was a much smaller dragon, about the size of a small dog, with the same purple scales as Hrod yet the same kind of cyan eyes as his mother. 'Oisin', I remembered as I awkwardly raised a hand and smiled.

“Hello,” the hen said, matching my nervous little grin with her own as she got to her paws, long tail swishing once behind her before stilling. “Little Cuan’s been telling us all about you for weeks.”

Hrod's cheeks immediately darkened, ember-orange eyes widening in shocked horror. “D-Don’t call me that!” They stammered, unable to do anything but pout and sit down, tail coiling around their hindlegs.

Sorcha giggled, almost vibrating, as her son looked on, lost. “I’m sorry, but I had to just once.” They didn’t seem upset, more embarrassed, openly pouting like a child and not a-

I had no idea how old they were.

“It's mean.”

“Hatchling.”

“Sorry,” I began, catching their attention. “But, Cuan?”

Hrodvitnir grimaced and looked away. “Old name,” they answered with no small amount of hesitation. “I picked a new one years ago. Even Kara doesn't know the original.” Their maw tightened, and had anyone but their only sibling, who'd said it purely to tease, mentioned it, I'm sure their claws would've been out.

I shuffled a little closer, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “You never mentioned it.” The cardboard bag was placed upon the table, where the little drake slowly reached out to grab it, only for a sudden growl from his mother to stop him. “He can have my sandwich. I-I'm not hungry.”

“Yeah, your bestie’s sister scared the sh—” Hrod's eyes flickered over to Oisin, who sat there, expectant. “Beat the heck out of that Archon waiter until he gave us that bag, so don't lose it. Got blood on her tail.” And then, when a frowning Sorcha sorted the leftovers for her and her child, Hrod leaned in close to me. “I'll tell you later.”

“How old are you?” I whispered back, getting an odd look for it.

“What?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. Why?”

“Just wondering.” They leaned further, kissed me on the nose and laughed.

Oisin took my sandwich and sat back, munching, flecks of garlic mayo and iceberg lettuce sticking to the scales of his muzzle. And then, maw full, he stared. At me, orange eyes unblinking as he observed, searching for something – something I could feel on instinct I lacked.

Luckily for my soul, or whatever he wanted, I was saved by his mother, who put on a kindly smile and said, “So… How much of what my sibling has gushed about you is true?”

My fingers curled against my thigh, nerves suddenly spiking at the reminder that I was technically meeting my partner's family. “That, um, depends on what they've said.” I sat up straighter and held her gaze. “I, uh, I work for the council. With computers and emails, mostly—”

She waved me off. “I mean that they annoy you constantly, and you let them because you're sweet.” Sorcha grinned. “They did brag you were some big shot, though.”

Hrod hid in their forelimbs, ears twitching.

“Uhh. Nah, they're not… too… bad,” I lied. “Although...” Hrod tilted their head to look at me, a moment of telepathic communication passing between us. “They did once slip on a literal banana peel and headbutt a car.”

Sorcha burst out laughing.

Spurred on, I continued, face warming up. “Y-Yeah, the snout went right through the window. They weren't hurt, but oh my god, the driver went nuts.”

“It was an accident!” Hrod cried out, cheeks flushed. “I was distracted. A-And I ended up having to pay like two hundred pounds for that.”

“Yeah, huh. I helped.”

“You only paid half.”

“YOU broke it!”

“You were distracting me.” Their tail thumped, wagging almost, batting against the low table. They couldn't stop smiling. “Being all dumb.”

“You headbutted a Toyota because you were trying to look cool. Prancing about a car park – strutting.” The drake's indignant squawk and sloppy attempts to shut me up only made me talk louder, and when they slapped a paw around my mouth, I responded by licking. They let out a loud, dramatic 'ewww' and wiped the saliva on my hoodie. “So, yeah, it was all their fault.”

Oisin kept eating, still silent, though maybe a little less judgemental. A quiet little guy, but he seemed at ease, at least to me. I wasn't sure if it was the same as actual acceptance, but I could live with it. His mother's goofy grin, however, mixed with the swishing tail and tapping paws, told me I'd earned some points.

“And the council?” She continued. “Is it enjoyable work? I'm stuck in the bakery, which is alright, but a little stressful sometimes.”

I nodded. “It looks nice, yeah, and the sandwiches are really good.”

She waved me off. “Yes, I make sure they're preparing the food well even when I'm not there to watch them.”

“Too many lindwyrms,” Hrod said, still chewing. “Too many snakes.”

“Hrodvitnir,” their sister chastised.

The drake shrugged. “I'm tired and saw Kara; sue me. She is terrifying. No clue where Béatraís gets it from.”

“Cerys is a softie,” Sorcha said, her words weak, even to her. “Or she's relaxed a little recently.” And then her eyes lit up, her voice rising. “Béatraís did say she is going stir crazy trying to get some bodyguard into her bed chambers. Might be why she's, uh, snippy.”

The image of blood dripping from her tail. The way she'd reached out to pet me like I was some lesser thing… it made my skin crawl. 'Snippy' was by far the kindest, most generous way to describe her.

“Sure,” Hrod deadpanned, followed then by a yawn. “Insane lady aside, I'm tired and need a nap. Cole, follow; you're my pillow for tonight.”

“Hrod,” Sorcha said, tone low.

Totally innocent, Hrod turned back, long neck craned, spines glinting in the low light. Their eyes like embers. “Hmm?” Their head tilted. “What's up?”

She said nothing.

“Nothing weird is going to happen,” they responded to the air. “Just napping. Sleeping. Talking a little…” They pursed their lips. Sorcha kept up the stare. “... I'll lock the door and keep quiet.”

“Good boy.”

She was ignored as we hurried away, a tail wrapped around my leg to drag me forward into the bedroom. The inside was dark, and I had to be guided onto the bed; otherwise, I would definitely have tripped. Like everything else, it was too low to the ground.

No pillows, no proper mattress, just a mound of blankets they'd gathered into something like a nest. It was layered enough that when they threw me onto my back, it didn't hurt.

All I could see of them was the light reflecting from their eyes; all I could hear was their slow breathing and the compression of scaled weight atop soft materials.

The door locked shut before they padded back over. I could almost feel how much they were restraining themselves, how much it hurt to, instead of pouncing, curl beside me, head against my shoulder.

“So… Cuan?”

The moment broke. They groaned, loud, half amused, half… pained?

I grinned, glad to finally have something over them.

“Hrodvitnir”, they replied slowly, “is the name I picked when I realised I wanted a fresh start. It means the same thing as my old name, but I chose it, not my parents. Me.” They curled closer, paws travelling from the nest to my leg. “I was a quiet hatchling; barely anyone noticed me, and I liked that at the time, but when I realised that I liked drakes, I wanted people to know. I wanted them to know me, and then Earth. New name, new me.”

“I like it,” I said lamely. “Sounds all majestic. Plus, I like you being… you.” Their eyes widened as my face flushed scarlet. Immediately, I pulled back, cringing. “Ugh, don't… don't say anything. That was so bad.”

“Cole…” They cooed, but I'd already covered my face with my hands and rolled over. “You like me~” I could feel the grin they had without even having to turn around. They wrapped their forelimbs around my waist, pulling me close in one quick tug. “Such a softy.”

“A little,” I replied, letting go of my face but not yet facing them. They only hummed, held me closer and placed their snout against my throat. It gave me a moment of calm, one to think, and not about myself for once. “I… I didn't realise how tense things could be for you.”

“Hm?”

“The thing with Kara. That scared me. I didn't know you had to deal with her or people like her. And, like, your parents and sister’s boyfriend?”

They tensed up. “...I think you're ruining sexy times.”

I rolled over onto my other side, finally facing them. They had an awkward, sad little half smile. “I know, I just realised that I hadn't been- I don't know; I didn’t realise you had your own, like, world different from mine. I've been so focused on me.”

“That's what everyone does,” they whispered. “I think you’re thinking too hard about things, Cole. Sometimes, just sometimes, you have to… relax. You know what you’ve got to do, so just… relax…”

Their pads caressed my calf, then pressed against my knee, up to my thigh. Slow and gentle, claws pressing in.

“The door is locked, the walls are- well, they’re almost soundproof…” Their claws dug in harder, followed by a slow lap of their forked tongue up the length of my jaw that made me shiver.

Warmed up, and realising they weren’t exactly in the mood for a deep talk, I allowed my own hand to slip from my side over to their chest, smooth and sleek yet clearly armoured. The underside was a series of plates, warm and almost pliant. My fingers shook, yet downward they went, the heat and softness growing until eventually they found something even warmer and even gentler, tips brushing against a soft, flushed slit.

Without thinking about it, I took a moment to slip my hoodie off, afterwards moving closer for the missed warmth, fingers taking a moment to fiddle with the belt that kept my too-tight jeans stuck to me. Hrod helped, throwing the leather belt aside and eagerly tugging the bottoms down – awkwardly, I kicked them off, losing them to the blanket nest mess. They tossed aside their harness and satchels.

After taking a moment to adjust, I got into a position where I could hold the side of their cheek in one hand – to pull their face close to mine – and the other at their waist. It was a bit of a stretch; their body was longer than mine, but the way they harshly curled their body around mine helped. And then, with my heart racing and head bent forward, I, very gently, pressed my lips to the front of their maw.

The gentlest kiss, barely anything really, so much so they actually giggled. Flustered, I pulled back, held them tighter and tried again – harder, hungrier; less fear and hesitation, more honesty. They weren't taken back – if anything, they seemed at ease, like they'd expected it; their tail wrapped around my legs, claws scraping goosebumps into my thighs, and maw opening up just enough to let me slip my tongue inside.

Their own was long and slick, with no bumps, split at the end and dexterous enough to wrap around mine. I moved, half out of energetic inexperience, half out of fear they'd be disappointed. They tasted like heat and…

“Cranberries,” I heard whispered, catching me off guard. They broke the kiss for a moment but kept their snout against my cheek, hot breath mingling. “Berry bowl.” And then a gentle lick. “Your face told me.”

This time, they moved first. As though mimicking me, they held my chin in a paw, angling my head for me as they, gentler than I had the second time, yet more passionate than the first, kissed me.

Slow and languid, yet warmer than it had been, they had me melting into them, dazed. My fingers moved more boldly, tip tracing the slick cloaca. They twitched before relaxing. Not unsheathed yet, and I took advantage of that, carefully slipping an index finger inside. Just the barest inch, enough to make their breath catch.

Hrod's paw remained where it was, but I didn't mind. Nor did I mind that, with a soft, shuddering exhale, they broke the kiss and instead placed their head atop mine, body curling ever closer, hips pressed flush against my wrist as I made slow stroking motions against the fluttering walls of their slit whilst the other stroked the spreading lips.

No dick, no knot, just them breathing heavily as I added a second finger and began gently pumping in and out of their steadily wetter and wetter entrance. “Does that feel good?” I asked quietly, curling my fingers as I moved, feeling myself harden at the weak little whimpers they were letting out.

But then, unlike most girls, something stirred. Their control slipped, and from where my fingers were still steadily pumping emerged something hard and slick, tapered at the end, the tip brushing along my palm as it unsheathed. It was ignored, however, in favour of the still moistening slit, though I made sure to brush against the underside with each movement.

When a bulb began to form at the base of the shaft, the knot pressing more firmly against me, Hrod stopped me, gently holding my hand with a paw, and pulled me upwards. Both hands were then seized, and I was scooted back, propped up against a ‘wall’ of the blanket net.

They didn’t speak as they shifted back, giving themselves room to tug my bottoms down and out of the way. Aside from a faint flush along their cheeks and the slow lowering of their lids, they didn’t react to the sight of me leant back, hard and bare between my thighs.

I swallowed, fingers digging into the nest wall as they reached out. A paw settled around my shaft, smooth pads tracing from base to tip, brushing the head just enough to make me flinch.

Their touch was gentle. Ghost light. Careful in a way that felt almost too much, like they were testing me. Enough to draw a twitch from me, then a murmur. Heat gathered, slow and insistent, twisting through my belly until my toes curled. Then, without warning, they leaned down and licked the head.

My hands slid up and across their scaled scalp, fingers curling around the base of their horns. A low, pleased sound vibrated through them as they licked me again, then pressed forward, the head of my cock slipping past their faux-lips and into the warm, wet inside of their mouth. The sudden pressure forced a quiet gasp from me. I held on, knuckles whitening, fighting the urge to drag them closer.

They adjusted, folding their long limbs beneath them until they were settled, almost nesting. Their head lifted just enough for me to slip free, a thin string of saliva and pre stretching between us. I shifted back, sitting more upright, bracing myself as they leaned in again, taking an inch more than before. Up. Down.

I arched, the tip sliding across their tongue. Their sharp teeth stayed well clear, cheeks hollowing as they worked me, eyes closed, expression tight. All I could do was breathe and hold on while they changed pace – slow, then fast, then slow again, tongue curling along my length.

“F-Fuck, Hrod,” I groaned, hips rolling forward on instinct. The sound they made around me went straight through my spine. Pressure coiled low and tight, my balls drawing up as the need to finish built too fast, too soon. They seemed to sense it, as without waiting, they took me deeper, all the way to the base, gagging once. Their eyes flew open.

For a moment we stayed there, looking at each other, my chest flushed, breath ragged; them completely still, muzzle full, watching me like they were waiting for something. Then they moved again. Up. Down. Tongue working. Slow, coaxing strokes, and then, without warning, fast and hard.

I hit the back of their muzzle with every thrust. Saliva wet my crotch, my grip tightening until I was pulling them down to meet my thrusts. Their tail lashed behind them as they rocked against the mattress, chasing their own pleasure, half-desperate. I barely noticed.

It wasn’t like before. Not all nerves and uncertainty and virginity.

“Hrod,” I gasped, body tightening, throbbing. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-”

I didn’t – couldn’t – finish the thought. With a low groan I dragged them down hard, their snout pressed against me as I came, spilling straight into the roof of their mouth. They froze, eyes wide and watering as I pulsed again and again, the pleasure rushing through me harder than the sex had. No teasing comments, no first time jitters.

I had no knot to trap them there, but they kept their lips sealed anyway, swallowing as best they could, staying with me through every aftershock.

“Just like that,” I murmured, my voice gone rough.

They looked up at me, lids heavy, gaze open and unresisting.

Eventually the peak passed. The rush ebbed, heat softening into something gentler, my body loosening as I went slack in their mouth. They didn’t pull away. They stayed there, still wrapped around me, still present, long after I’d softened. I let go of their horns and leaned back, breathing in the quiet, the cool air that washed over my flushed skin.

They remained where they were. So did I.

Neither of us moved.

And then… then it stopped being sweet, and I was left wondering what exactly they were doing, because they really were just laid there, not moving, not trying to speak, just sitting there.

I pursed my lips, sat back a little, and said, “…Are you alright?”

They mumbled something, but the movement alone made me twitch.

Another long moment of silence followed. The glow had gone and it started to feel silly, so without waiting I slid fully out of them and pulled up a blanket. They sat up, head tilted, like what I’d done was stupid.

“What? Why were you just lying there? Is this a dragon thing?”

“I was-” They stopped, eyes widening as a blush crept in. “Paying you back…?” Their head dipped. “Because I, uh, knotted you? And you, like…” They didn’t finish.

“Oh god,” I laughed. I didn’t mean to, it just came out. “You- that’s… sweet? Just really awkward.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” They crawled forward, limbs wrapping around me, snout nuzzling under my jaw. Their scales were hot and slick. Sweat? I wasn’t sure if they could sweat. It smelled acidic, but I didn’t care. “I was being sweet. Felt good, too.”

“Oh yeah?” I shifted slightly, distantly aware of something still hard against my hip.

“Mm. Yeah, it did. If you’re still up for it, we can keep going. Try something new.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I already used your mouth, so…?” They tilted their head up, looking at me, snout angled just right. “You want some proper breeding?” The words were low, calm, confident, said like there was no shame and no chance I’d refuse. Like they already knew what was about to happen.

I blinked, nerves bunching and unravelling in my chest. The idea made me feel iffy. I wasn’t sure if I wanted it, or if I’d even like it. I’d never even considered it. But some small, suddenly excited part of me made me chew my lip, meet their eyes, and nod.

They raised a paw to my cheek, claws trailing lightly over my skin. One soft kiss, then they clambered out of the blanket nest, grabbed a small bottle from a drawer, my frazzled mind registering it as lube, and hurried back. They used their tail to pull the blanket over them, and by extension both of us.

It was an odd sight, but more than that, it was sweet.

“You ready?” they asked awkwardly, unscrewing the cap and, before I could answer, rubbing a generous amount over the end of their shaft, still beaded with excitement.

I nodded. “Yeah.” My voice was a little shaky, but it came out.