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Not With Gold or Iron

Infinity.

It is incomprehensible.

There are infinite universes, hence infinite galaxies and infinite worlds. Thus, everything is insignificant in the grand scheme of infinity.

So why don't we just flip through the pages of the multiverse, close our eyes, and pick a sexy story to tell? That's why you're here, isn't it? No need to waste time with insipid historical backdrops and all that ultimately meaningless babble.

You're here for a fun time. Good on you. Better a life spent having fun than bickering over what will amount to nothing. So here we go.

First let's sort through all the nothingness--that's ninety nine percent of existence. Blame the empty space. Alright, a world. A point in time. At the point we've picked, there are no lights visible on this world's surface at night, not yet. A continent. It's of a vertical shape, like a slice of pizza that's been partially eaten--rather sloppily, like oceans are wont to do to major landmasses. It's cold in the north, as it is in the norths of many worlds.

There is intelligent life on this continent, and there's a whole lot of history that went into how this pizza-shaped land was divided into seven provinces, but that's not what this story is about. This story is about what went on for a particular day in the northernmost castle of the continent, where beyond it the land became a sea of white and ice, a perilous place where cartographers had sacrificed many of their numbers to chart the north pole.

The mapmakers and their investors, gold and mining prospectors for the most part, had often used this castle as their most permanent base of operation when they were not out in their encampments. Unfortunately for them, the only hardy shelter in the north had a lord, and that lord had been able to revitalize his coffers with the kind of payment he'd demanded from them. The real losers had been the investors: there had been rumors of diamonds and swaths of silver mines untouched under the relentless snow and seas of ice, but ultimately nothing of value had ever been discovered.

The lord of the castle was a dragon named Cel. He was not one of the feral dragons that feasted upon the flesh of sapient creatures. No, he was a bipedal vertebrate who preyed upon the dreams of those who had heard legends of riches in the north, myths and rumors that he had more than a little part in letting flow throughout the kingdoms. And he would let them fly again, when the grandchildren of those prospectors forgot the warnings of their forebears, as they always did.

Cel, like most dragons, had a very long lifespan. Also like most other dragons, at least in this universe, he thought this made him superior to lesser men. It was an idea that was passed on from his ancestors, the ancestors who had statues of themselves line the catacombs under the castle where their ashes lay.

Besides statues and dragon remains, there were also hot springs beneath the castle. It had been specially built over them, so that the living quarters and more were rendered livable for the dragon's servants. Yet even then, the warmth from the springs could be quelled by the winter. Such was the season now, and the castle was all but deserted. The dragon's servants had migrated south for the winter and would return when they could actually sleep under their blankets rather than shiver and die, but in the meantime the sole occupant of the castle was Cel, its lord and warden.

The castle possessed what could be passed for a keep. It was the core of shelter from the outside elements where the walls and turrets were its limbs. There was a great steel door that led into the main hall of the keep, and from its gape was lined a carpet of crimson and gold that led straight to the throne where it fanned into an oval and rounded about the seat of power.

There was a blizzard today like many days during the winter. Cel sat slumped against his throne of iron, his legs wrapped in a half robe but his upper body bare as was custom for a dragon to keep his wings unburdened. The throne had been a wildly uncomfortable seat, according to his father, until one of his ancestors had enough of having his bottom always teetering on the edge of frostbite and padded it with cushions and furs. There were several notches on the top of where the head would rest against so that a dragon could settle his horns into them, and there was a gap near the rear to allow his wings to spread out and become a part of the throne itself.

The silver dragon sighed. He was comfortable, albeit a little cold, and his wealth was great, but there was absolutely nothing to do. He was bored. There was nobody around, and he couldn't even go out hunting when the snowstorms were howling. Not that he needed to--his servants had stockpiled plenty of meat, along with the other less desirable parts of the nutritional pyramid, and stored them away in one of the freezing chambers underground directly opposite of where the hot springs were.

He'd already lit a flame in his currently unmanned kitchen and ate, so he was out of things to do. He could've taken a book from his library, but he'd already read everything in it. He should have sent for more novels and tomes before winter fell, but he'd been distracted by his servants.

Oh yes, that was the thing he missed most. His servants. The special ones that he kept all for himself. The lovely young males that practically craved to be mounted.

Indeed, one thing was true for nearly all of the versions of Cel spread out across the multiverse. He desired men more than women.

He missed their delicate touches, their wonderfully warm mouths and tight asses. His ears longed to hear their voices cry out, first in pain but quickly begging for more of his dragon cock. His hands were a poor substitute for a nice slut to fuck. But all he had now were his hands, and he was not in the mood for them. So he sat and sat, waiting for the hours to pass by, and remained bored as the howling of the winds continued to crash against the unyielding walls and the thick high windows of his castle.

Little did the dragon know that he was never going to have another boring day in his life. In this universe and most of the neighboring ones, something happened. There was a knock at the main hall's door.

In fact, there were only two local tangential relativistic coordinating rotational vectorized universes nearby where the same knock did not occur. In one, there suddenly appeared an older human with what appeared to be his grandson. They ran across the hall, much to Cel's surprise, while screaming something about a council. The man then blasted open an interdimensional hole with some sort of handheld weapon, and they ran through it and disappeared. The dragon made sure to triple check what sort of berries he was eating for the rest of the month.

In the other universe, nothing interesting happened because everything in that universe was made of gumdrops and candy. That in itself might have been interesting, but there was nobody to witness its interestingness since any life that had tried to evolve there had perished quickly from diabetes.

But let's get back to the reality we were in. There was a knock, and the steel echoed the sound around the dragon's lonely hall. Cel straightened up and glared down the nearly garish carpet. For a moment, there was silence, and he slackened and thought he was just hearing things. Then there came another knock, and he would have no more ambiguity.

"Just raise the stakes and poles," he yelled, his voice vibrating down the hall. "It's not locked!"

There was a few clicks and clangs, and then the door opened. Snow burst through at the crack, and then came forth a hooded figure surrounded by the flurry of white. He lumbered forward, fouling the carpet with melting snow, and stopped at a respectable distance away from the throne.

Cel marveled at the tall bundle of robes and gear. Anyone who could brave the cold of the storms this far north had to be a fellow dragon. "Who comes in the dead of winter to my castle?" he asked.

Digits protruded from his long sleeves against the fabric, hiding their true nature. They went over the hood and pulled it down resolutely, revealing not a dragon's face, but rather that of a wolf's.

Cel gave the canine a hard stare. The wolves of his country hadn't the strength to endure the cold this far north. Nobody did, certainly not out in a blizzard. Yet here this wolf was. He was muscled and tall, however, and definitely bigger than the wolves he had ever seen. "What brings you so far north, stranger?"

The wolf smiled amiably. "I have come to claim the riches of the north."

The dragon looked at the state of the wolf's gear. It was grey and tattered, much like his fur. There was a scabbard at his side, and a club hanging on the back by a pack. He must've used it for clubbing seals, the dragon mused, but he certainly appeared to have no wealth to exploit. "You will find nothing but snow up here," Cel said, relaxing against his throne. "I would suggest you try the mines during the summer, if you're insistent."

The wolf's smile curved sharper into a smirk, one which the dragon did not like at all. "It's merely comfortable up here for me. I'm not afraid of the cold."

"Oh?" Cel started fingering his claws. "And what are you but a wolf? You're not a dragon. The north will put you in an icy grave if you venture out."

There was a chuckle. Cel eyed the stranger distastefully, but his insult did not end there. The wolf asked, "Are you illiterate, perhaps? Or just ignorant?"

The dragon growled and stood up, hands flailing. "This is outrageous! I will not be disrespected in my own keep! Begone, and be thankful that this has lifted me but a little from my boredom, or I would have a bounty on your head."

The wolf let loose another howling laughter. "I am a dire wolf, and I fear neither snow nor bounties! I have come here seeking treasure, and I will have it. I will have your castle and your land!"

Cel stepped back until his legs touched his throne, and he reached behind it to grab for his sword. "You are mad. Do you intend to buy my lordship with gold?" He pulled out the sword of his ancestor's from the slot it was held behind his throne. "Or were you going to dare to try and pay the iron price?"

The usurper let his pack, gear, and heavy cloak fall to the floor. He drew his sword from its scabbard and let the sheath fall so it wouldn't bump against him when he danced. He held his club in his other hand.

"I see," the dragon said, placing his ancestral blade in a ready stance.

The wolf stood ready to defend himself. He would have to play carefully to get what he really wanted, but he had a trick that would just require a good opening. Still, the dragon appeared to be a formidable opponent, and he looked stronger and more muscular than he had expected. It was all the better for what he desired.

For a minute, they stared at each other with weapons braced. The wolf was more so admiring the winter lord's body, which had muscles bending the strong scales along his arms and legs, and powerful shoulders and an envy-inducing chest. His hair, which trailed along the entirety of his back and tail, was also an exotic oddity. The lizards nearer to his home had no such hair as they were fully reptilian, but this dragon was partially furred and clearly warm-blooded if he could reside in this cold castle. The hair was blue, fading from a light sky to a royal blue from top to bottom, like a glacier fading into the sea, and topped off his handsome look. Oh, he was definitely going to enjoy the spoils of his victory.

Cel stood and wondered what the dire wolf was looking at. Perhaps he was studying his stance and trying to guess his fighting style. He stared back and couldn't decipher the canine's relaxed pose. Overconfident bastard, perhaps. "Well," he asked, "are you going to try and wrest my lordship from me or not?"

The wolf made a rude gesture with one of his fingers and topped it off with a come hither motion. The dragon leapt at him as he expected, goading him into making the first move.

The castle lord was swift and strong. The dire wolf had expected it to be so. The long lives of dragons were well known around the world, but the residents of this country knew little about the dire wolves from a small continent halfway across the world. His kind did not travel abroad much, but he was one of the rare few who had left his home to see the world. His wanderlust was a tale for another time. What mattered right now was that Cel would have had a considerable advantage of dozens of years of extra combat training if not for the little known fact that dire wolves could live just as long as dragons, and the stranger from across the world had just as much skill in combat as the silver scaled warden of the north.

And the wolf also had strength to match him. Cel was used to sparring the lesser men of the realm. They were strong by the standards of their kin, but he was a dragon, and a two-handed blow often easily struck his opponent's weapons out of his hands. But this creature, this dire wolf, would not be disarmed no matter how many strong strikes he blocked despite the fact that he was wielding a metal club in one hand and a sword in the other. Such strength he had not faced since he'd been taught to fight by his father, but he didn't believe the wolf could outlast him. He was a dragon after all, and everyone else was inferior.

If a bunch of a short blue-skinned humanoids hadn't come across the planet millions of years ago and drained it of all magical energy in the name of science, dragons would indeed have been superior at the art of spellcrafting, and Cel's belief might have been justified. But the little blue men had removed the world's magic, and so physically there was little difference between the dragon and this mysterious wolf.

The stranger stayed on the defensive, keeping his eye out for an opening. He only needed to wait for one misstep, and with his even strength, he was capable of keeping the match at a standstill until the opening presented itself. He let himself be pushed back in a circle until his tail brushed against the throne, and then he created his opportunity.

He jumped backwards, vaulting over the throne. Cel tried to stab at him with a lunge, but missed by just a hair. When the wolf landed, he threw his sword, pommel first, at the dragon. Cel was surprised at the bold move but screened his blade to push its trajectory away from him, although he was puzzled for a moment at why the wolf had thrown it at him with the handle facing him.

That moment of confusion lasted a second too long, and the wolf had already reached into his pocket and thrown something else at him. This thing landed square on his snout, covering his nostrils. The dragon breathed in instinctively, and the confusion from the sword was swept away by the absolutely distressing thought of what had landed on his nose.

Befuddled, Cel lost his blade from a wild swing of the dire wolf's club. The clattering of the sword that had been passed down from his forefathers rang in his ears, but his mind was still seized up trying to process what his nose was feeding it. By the time he realized he was defenseless, he felt a harsh crash against his head and went black.

If the dragon hadn't been forced to take the black by a rather insistent metallic wallop, his brain would have finished processing what precisely had landed on his nostrils. Male. Musk. Absolutely pure man-ness. And dried semen. Days upon days of cum stained on a piece of cloth which, if he hadn't already been distracted when he'd been hit by it, he would've discerned was a piece of underwear.

The dire wolf, with a great and eager grin, knelt down and reclaimed what was his, along with much more. He dropped his club and let it roll away, and then he whispered, "I intend to pay with neither."

---

When Cel woke up, the first thing he felt was warmth. The second thing he felt was stone, so he knew he was still in his castle, somewhere down in the lower parts near the hot springs which heated the stonework and foundations of his keep. Then he felt air. It was warm, but tempered by the winter. The problem was that he could feel it on places where he normally shouldn't.

He glanced down and saw very little from a lack of light, but a faint glow from a crack in a door behind him confirmed he was indeed naked. He tried to move to cover himself, but then he found that his arms and legs were bound. He was made powerless by chains and cuffs, and the rattling angered him and made him thrash, but it only managed to exhaust him. The chains were made in the north, made stronger than normal steel to combat the brittleness that came with the cold, and it would not yield to him.

The door creaked once the rattling settled down. The dragon's head was free to turn around, and he was able to see the dire wolf come in with a torch. What caused him to thrash again was the fact that the grey-furred canine was naked as well.

The wolf chuckled and lit the room's torches. It was the only room that was marginally comfortable, the closest room to the springs, and he could understand why the dragon's servants would migrate south for the winter if the rest of the keep was cooler.

He walked confidently behind the dragon, just out of range of his wild wings and tail. "Hello," he said, ignoring the defeated lord's distress, "I am Makarov Sabre. You may call me Mak. Preferably Master Mak. Or Lord Mak. If you remember, I defeated you and have now claimed your castle and lordship."

"You were a cheating bastard," the dragon replied. "I will have your head on a spike for this."

Mak grabbed the dragon's tail and wrestled with it until it was as defeated as its owner. He shoved it against his back, royal blue touching sky blue, and leaned in, ignoring the weak beats of his wings. "Now now, no need to be so harsh," the wolf whispered. "You'll still get to be my queen."

Cel's eyes widened. He was now sure of why he was nude and chained against his own castle. A light steam rolled in from the gap in the door, but there would be something warmer soon enough, something which he would resist with all his strength.

The dragon poured forth what reserve of energy he had into his tail once more, struggling to lower it and prevent the wolf from taking what he wanted. "No," he cried. "You can have my title, my land, my castles. Just let me go, or take my life as well."

"I will take your life," Mak said, "but I will keep it away from the only god who shows his face." The usurper rubbed his paws over his queen-to-be's butt, the mounds wonderfully firm and round. "No, no, this lovely dragon rump will not be given to Death, not until he takes me too."

The dragon fought and fought, but it was useless. The wolf was extraordinarily powerful and he tried and begged and growled.

"The longer you take to submit, the harder I get," Mak said. "And the harder it will be for you. The lubrication I was so kind to apply is drying up with every minute you futilely try to deny me."

The blue-fluffed silver tail struggled for a minute more, but was ultimately defeated. "Please," he begged, lowering himself beneath the contempt of his ancestors.

The wolf's breath washed over his ears. "Please, more, you mean."

Cel remained silent.

"Heh, don't worry. You'll say it before the end."

Worn out and humiliated, it took all the dragon had to clench his ass to try one final attempt at denying his captor. It did nothing but make the pain of penetration prolonged and poignant.

The dire wolf's cock went forth and broke his resistance, just as the rest of the dragon had been broken. It pushed forward, unhindered by the dragon's last attempt to stop him. When he was at last hilted, and his furred sack hung throbbing against the dragon's scaled nuts, he leaned close again to the dragon's ear. "I've talked to some of your servants in the south, at Summer's Edge, before I came up here, you know. That's where I learned you preferred fucking males."

The dragon snarled at him. "My brothers will march from the south and take back what is my family's. They will kill me for my disgrace, but you will be skinned alive and made into a coat. Stop now, take what you want from the treasury, and leave. Leave and never come back. Nobody will know of this, and there won't have to be bloodshed made on your account."

"How generous," Mak replied. He made another thrust to show the dragon what he thought of the offer and waited until his balls had stopped jiggling against the dragon's back before he continued. "You know what else I learned at Summer's Edge?"

"You will make a fine coat," the dragon spat back.

"I had to ask around quite a bit before I could track down your whore boys. It was hard at first because I was looking at the minstrels, the bookkeepers, the young priests...but no. You're not one for weak, scrawny, skinny men. You love to fuck the strong males. The blacksmith's apprentice, a bull with powerful arms and a body that was used to hammering. You hammered him real well, I could tell from how he blushed." Mak chuckled and gave the dragon a few hammer strokes of his own. "Your gate guard's squire. A pretty youthful lion, but layered with muscles as befit a knight-to-be. You couldn't keep from pouncing on him after he came of age, didn't you? Covered his handsome face with dragon cum before his mane had even fully grown in, I bet."

The dragon rumbled, but his defiance was waning. The dire wolf listing out his favorite men was making his shaft emerge from his slit. He would not admit that the cock in his ass was helping, and refused to believe it was happening at all.

"The white falcon," Mak continued. "The journeyman stonemason. He helps maintain the high parts of the castle with the gift of flight, hmm? I've heard rumors of you two mounting in the sky, your white fluids lost in the snow forever."

Cel shivered as the canine put another harsh thrust into him. He felt the tip of his cock grow wet against his will.

"My favorite," Mak said. "The logger. A wolf, pulsating with muscle. He looked like he could chop a tree down with one axe stroke. Wonderful abs, legs and arms like mountains. But he is a cub compared to me, isn't he?"

The dragon stayed quiet, and his mind struggled now to resist what his body was trying to, against all, well, most, of his wishes, enjoy. His prostate kept pouring forth waves and waves of pleasure and tried to convince him that this felt good, and that he'd wanted this for a very long time, so stop complaining and enjoy it! But the dragon was proud, and he clung to his pride.

"The hunter. Not as big as the others, but still lined with muscles and built for endurance and speed. A stag." Mak grabbed one of his horns and pushed his head sideways against the stone so that his snout was squished against it. "He said you loved holding his horns while you bred him."

"Fuck you," Cel said.

The dire wolf ignored him. "All those big strong men." He stuck his snout right next to the dragon's ear. "You know what I think? You don't just love fucking big strong males. You want to get fucked by one! But you've never had anyone who dared to ask, who dared to even suggest the idea." He made another thrust and pressed his fur tight against his scales. "Well, here I am."

Cel growled, but it was a weak growl. It almost sounded like an admission of submission. His shaft was leaking now, he knew, and this wild wolf that couldn't be possible had appeared out of nowhere and tapped into the desires of his darkest dreams.

"Nobody has to know," the new Lord Mak whispered. "I'll even sit on the Queen's seat. Just for you. You can let everyone think you're the one who's pounding me and keep your castle under your family's name. I don't even want your gold. I came for your silver butt, and I'm going to come in it whether you agree or not. Whether you have your brothers come up and slaughter us both is up to you, or you can live out this fantasy I know you want so badly, you big buff...submissive dragon."

The silver drake said nothing for a long moment. Mak gave him some encouragement and lowered his paws onto the rock hard dragon cock that he had guessed correctly would be there. Cel let out a shiver, a wonderful quake that signaled to the canine what had finally clicked in the dragon's mind.

"Say you want me to fuck you," the wolf muttered. "I know you want it. Your cock wants it so much, too."

The wolf stroked the big ridged cock, drawing out a low moan from the powerful, shuddering dragon. The stroking made the words seem to fill Cel's mind like sweet honey, and his eyes closed as the pleasure finally overwhelmed him, the desire unbefitting a dragon emerging at last. "Fuck me," he said softly.

Mak gave his ear a little lick. "Good. Very good. Louder, or I shall parade you around Summer's Edge on a cart with my seed leaking out of your wondrous tail hole."

"Fuck me," the dragon replied. "Fuck me. Please."

"Please, what?"

The dragon opened his eyes just a crack and knew what his captor wanted. "Please, more. Fuck me like only a male can do to another man."

"That was music. I'll make you sing."

Mak grabbed both of his horns and yanked at them hard, knowing that dragons were tough and could take almost any sort of abuse. The wolf shoved them forward, slamming his throat against the wall and making him struggle for each breath. He started thrusting in earnest. absolutely railing the dragon. He fucked him so hard that his legs would've started rising if they hadn't been chained down, a feat that only a dire wolf could've accomplished.

The dragon moaned and gasped. Beneath the titles and the scales and the muscles, he was revealed for what he really was. A bitch that wanted to be bred, a slut like all the other males he had forced beneath him in the hopes that one would be audacious enough to try and take advantage of his lord. A fool's hope. None in the realm would've dared to try and use him, none but this stranger of a species of wolf he had never encountered before and had come from some foreign land.

"Such a tight, wonderful virgin ass," the dire wolf said as he jackhammered his shaft against the defeated dragon. "It's gonna be a real battle to get my knot crammed in there."

True to his word, like most canines, Mak's knot began to grow, and his upsized dire wolf nuts could no longer slap behind the dragon's orbs. He kept up his pace, however, crashing the bulb against the dragon's tight hole.

Cel's eyes grew teary against his will, but he prevented the water from forming a drop. He felt the dire wolf's harsh breaths batter against his neck. "You're going to smell like my bitch every night. You will reek of my scent, and you're going to love it, aren't you?"

The dragon shut his eyes in a vain effort to shirk away from his shame. "Y-yes..."

"Tell me what you love."

"I...I love feeling your massive cock press against my insides..."

The wolf pulled back, leaving only the tip of his shaft within. "What else?"

The dragon shuddered, and then he opened his eyes again. The shame had sunk, and the lust had risen. "I--I love feeling your body clash against mine, your muscles bulging against your fur and rubbing against my back. Your big strong hands making my tail behave, my head immobilized by your strength. My chest...scales scraping against the stone as you take me. My cock leaking as yours hits my spot, that spot that I--please..."

"That's a good draggy." Mak shoved his length back in, but still that newly deflowered hole would not give and refused his knot. He rammed and rammed, battering the ring until it would submit and admit all of his cock.

Cel's eyes were half-lidded, his mind wailing with pleasure and need. He had fingered himself before and knew of that spot inside him that would make him leak, but he had never been pounded so hard there before. He'd never been railed like the men he would fuck, and he was very soon going to understand how he could make his special servants spill their fluids without a touch on the cock as his own was leaking heavily, and his prostate was going to drive him over the edge.

It was a slow climb to climax, and every crash of the dire wolf's massive knot against his hole sent electricity into him in ways he'd never experienced before, and it gathered towards his bursting point. It would've taken a few minutes longer if not for the sudden jolt of bliss that he felt when the pressure hit a critical point, and he felt his ass swallow the canine's bulb.

It was done. Cel's cock jumped and emptied his seed over the wall and floor, tightening his ass and milking Mak until the wolf's balls dragged up against his taint and fired everything they had into him. The grip on his horns did not lighten, and he was pressed even harder against the stone, making him gasp desperately for breath while his body was awash with pleasure and warmth in places he had only imagined.

Then the pleasure faded, and there was a hypnotic afterglow to replace it. But it did not take long for the dragon to look down. He was still panting, and he could see the white stains on the stonework beneath him. He blinked a few times before the realization hit him. He'd lost it all. The wolf had claimed him and his realm. Filled with the seed of another male, the dragon was made impotent. His honor was soiled, his glory lost. He was as powerless as a eunuch would be if he were on the king's council. Like a spider, he could only claim to be lord of a dark corner.

Mak, knowing the internal conflict that must have been going through the dragon's head, let his arms gently slide down underneath his wing limbs and go in front of him, crossing Cel's toughly scaled chest. He hugged him tightly, his knot keeping their hips attached as tightly as his arms kept their torsos together. "You may be wondering who I am, and what I'm going to do, hmm? What I want?"

There was a weak affirmative grunt.

The dire wolf gave his ear an affectionate lick. "I come from a continent that's nearly across the world, a little known isle so far south that it turns cold again, perhaps colder than even here. I heard tales of a proud dragon ruling over the farthest reaches of the north, so I came to see what all the stories were about. And then I came into you, and into your inheritance. Heh."

"M--my siblings cannot find out. They will take back what has always belonged to dragons."

"Mmm," Mak hummed. "No, they won't find out. I traveled for the sake of adventure. I have no actual interest in owning your castle or your riches. I'd only come this far north because of what I'd heard in Summer's Edge. A gay dragon lord who supposedly liked to fuck strong males. So I came every night into my dirty underwear and boom, here I am. Exploded into you. Best fuck I've ever had, and I think you and I both want more." The canine gave him the signature grin of his species.

Cel tried to turn away, but a low growl stopped him. He looked back for what seemed like minutes until he stammered, "Y--yes. I do."

"I bet. You're tired of everyone bowing and obeying your every command, hmm? Yes, your grace. At once, sire. It will be done. Kiss ups and yes men. Bored, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Careful now, or you'll turn into a yes man yourself."

"Fine. If you don't want my land or gold, then what do you plan to do?"

The wolf huffed and squeezed the dragon's cheeks. "Well, that's all up to you, my lord. I could walk away, disappear into the blizzard and pretend nothing ever happened. I bet you don't want that, though. I bet you want me to ream that tight ass of yours every night, don't you?"

"I...don't leave," the dragon said rather pathetically. "Please."

"You can appoint me as your personal guard. Nobody will know what happens at night when I stand watch in your room. You continue to be warden of the north, and your brothers will be none the wiser to your perversions."

"I--I will take you as my personal guard."

"But never forget who's really in charge, draggy. Oh, one condition."

"What?"

"Those other men. You can't fuck them anymore. Your cock will never tie with a man hole ever again." The wolf tapped his chin and mused. "Well...perhaps...hmm. Not without my permission, to be safe."

Cel's throat whined reflexively, but then he remembered the burst of pleasure that had welled within him. How good it had felt to cum without a touch on his shaft. And then he said the words, "I will never need a hole again."

"Music from a slut's throat," the wolf said, chuckling. "I told you I would make you sing. You will swear it, not now, but you will."

"What do you mean?"

Mak didn't reply. Clicking sounds responded for him.

When his cuffs were unlocked, Cel's legs buckled and he nearly fell onto his knees. He managed to brace himself against the wall with a little help from the plump knot in his ass. The pounding ordeal had drained him of more energy than he'd thought.

Strong fuzzy paws pulled him from the wall. There was a sharp pain in his ass, a wet lewd echo, and then a cold emptiness which made the well-used dragon lord whimper involuntarily. The cold was tempered by the flow of warm seed spilling out of him, a pour which slowed to a trickle before Mak threw the drake over his shoulders like he was a sack of flour. Cel had never been treated with such irreverence, but he couldn't find himself wanting anything else from the dire wolf but to be treated like a low-class whore.

The seed within him was strong, and he knew that such thoughts meant Mak had won over him, physically and mentally. He didn't question where he was being taken. The dire wolf would do whatever he wanted with him.

Yet there was one doubt. "Are you a dream?" the silver dragon asked.

Mak started walking. "Whether for good or for ill, no."

"For good," the dragon whispered before going limp against those powerful shoulders.

The wolf heard him, of course. The lordling must've known he would. Mak smirked and carried the dragon, who was more content than he could've ever expected, off to where he had already prepared while the north lord had been passed out in the dungeon.

Cel did not raise his head until they stopped. Then he saw the towel and pillows that had been set up, and the braziers and candles were ablaze. He was in the halls of his ancestors. "What? Why am I here?"

The wolf dropped him onto the pillows rather roughly, but not completely without care. "It is here, in the sight of your forebears and the multiple-guised god who took them, that you will swear."

The edges of the dragon's mouth curled downward ever so slightly. "That's--"

Mak silenced whatever complaints he might've had by falling on top of him and pinning him to the ground. The dragon couldn't struggle. The once undisputed lord didn't want to resist. The wolf had drawn out his inner desire, and it was too late now to even think about having second thoughts.

"Slut," the canine said. "I feel you. Just having me on top of you is making you hard again, isn't it?"

Cel nodded, his face feeling flushed with heat.

Mak slid backwards, making sure his fur brushed along the fallen dragon lord's engorging cock as much as possible before he rose up and looked down upon him. Cel was a treasure just lying on the floor, wings spread and curved muscles adorning his body. The muscles were useless now for anything but to please the wolf's sense of aesthetics, to tell him that no matter what sort of high-pitched noises came from beneath him that he was still a male, for the most part.

The dire wolf bent down and unfurled a folded up corner of the pile of blankets and pillows. He pulled out the thing that had won him this handsome treasure, and then he jumped on top of the silver drake like a rabid dog. Mak pressed his days-stained underwear once more against his snout, and he could see his eyes dilate and even feel his body become lax as the dragon's cock stiffened against his own growing member.

"You love that smell, don't you?" The wolf smothered it on the dragon's nostrils for a full minute before he tossed it away, earning him a whine unbefitting of a castle lord. "Hush, little hatchling." Mak crawled up and shoved his balls right where the cloth had been, letting the dragon whiff up his pure male scent straight from the source. He humped lightly for a while, letting his fuzzy sack soak into his nose. His rod grew to full mast soon enough and gave the dragon a view of the largest cock he had ever seen short of his own which was only a mere finger-claw longer--impressive for someone without a draconic heritage.

Knowing what the dragon was and having trained him to be a good sword sheath, the wolf had no qualms about sticking his cock down the drake's mouth. Cel knew what he wanted instantly and lustfully wrapped his tongue around the thick member, eager for a taste of forbidden flesh, a turn-around for the north lord who had only known the pleasure of being given a blowjob.

Mak let the dragon's deft tongue work its magic on his member for a while before he started gyrating his hips, stuffing the silver lord's mouth. "All men must serve," the wolf groaned, "even kings."

The dragon replied by vibrating his throat, giving his new master a delightful sensation around his nethers. He tried to remember every trick his servants had done for him, thrilled at having the roles reversed now. He had always wondered how another man's cock tasted, but he could never bend his knee and stoop down for anyone to try. Now that he had one in his mouth, he didn't want to let it go until it was sated and its owner pleased. He realized that by simply having that thought, he was shamed even further in the eyes of his forefathers. Not only was he overpowered in combat, but also in mind, and he craved to be mounted.

Whether by the dragon's will or not, Mak eventually pulled away before he could give him a mouthful of dire wolf juice--a flavor that Cel would later find more addictive than wine. The wolf crawled back over him, lifted his legs, and it didn't take long for his shaft to find his target.

The dragon's gasped as the canine's cock entered him once more, but the pain was nearly gone, and his rear yielded easily after the rough pounding it had taken earlier. He knew he would be sore tomorrow, but for now there was only the electricity back there that fanned out sparks throughout his body.

Mak started at a steady pace, trading raw bruteness for a little intimacy as befit the closer position their bodies were in. He carried the weight of the drake's legs on his shoulders, thrusting slowly until they dropped to the sides.

Just when Cel was settling into a happy buzz, the wolf bit his shoulder and revved his speed up to match the rams he'd endured earlier. The bite did not penetrate his scales, but the thick and bulbing cock was doing more than enough penetration by itself. His eyes had widened at the onset of the storm, and now they were shut tight, and his wings were clutching madly at the wolf's back, digging into his fur, as he tried desperately to ride out the waves.

Mak growled and snarled as he jackhammered his hips against the defeated castle lord's wrecked rear. It couldn't have been more than half an hour since his knot had firmly locked into it, and it had already tightened up enough to deny him complete access! He rammed against that fleshy gate into his soft, warm, and delectable insides, but he couldn't pop it back in. The wolf thought perhaps he needed more leverage, so he pushed in again and kept on shoving until the force of his thrust was raising the dragon's entire lower back. Mak grabbed some of the pillows that had been strewn quite wildly around the blankets and stuck them under the dragon right above where his tail started, keeping his ass raised.

The dire wolf then began harshly piledriving into him, his revitalized balls slapping hard against the base of the dragon's tail. They kept on bouncing and bouncing until Cel's tail hole surrendered once again, swallowing his voluminous bulb. With the knot came his cum and wonderful throbs of pure bliss as his heavy furred nuts slid up against that smooth tail and emptied into where the silver appendage ended.

Mak was awash in pleasure, and nearly every muscle in his limbs stretched out to bask in the marvelous feeling flowing from his loins. His eyes feasted on a trembling needy dragon, a sight so rare to behold, though when he was satisfied, he noticed the mewling lord had not covered himself in his own seed yet.

The dire wolf smiled and gave the lusty dragon what he needed. He wanted to start slowly to tease him, and he gave him a small touch on the tip of his tapered cock head with the fur on the back of his hand. His torturous plan to keep the dragon on the edge was ruined, however, as that one little gliding touch was all it took for the drake to spray his belly and chest white, and the angle that the pillows put him at had even caused some to splatter against his face, a matte white mess against pretty silver.

Then they stared at each other as they caught their breaths, and they kept staring long after their cocks had finished throbbing.

Cel broke the sweet quietness. "Kiss me," he said.

Enraptured in a trance, Mak was shaken out of the stare by those words, and then he smiled. "Well now, I wouldn't have taken you for the romantic type."

"Please?"

"A hopeless romantic at that."

The dragon opened his mouth to beg again, but the wolf answered and lowered his head. He lapped at the cream the drake had sprayed onto his muzzle, tasting the sweet rare nectar of a dragon, and then he clamped his snout around Cel's awaiting mouth, diving into a deep kiss.

Their tongues swirled and danced, harsher and harder. The duet turned to a full-on battle, and the wolf had to struggle to crush the dragon's swifter tongue down to submission before pulling away.

Mak grinned down at him once he was free. "Aggressive tongue you've got. Still trying to hold onto some last token of lordship over me?"

Cel repaid him with a smirk of his own. "Maybe."

"Don't be a sore loser."

"I'm not."

Mak snickered and tugged his hips back so that his bulb pried open the drake's well-used hole again, making him wince from the ache for a moment before letting it slide back in. The wolf looked down and was happy to see the smirk had been wiped away, and then he gave his ear a lick. "You have this knot. And you're sore, alright."

Cel narrowed his eyes. "By the Seven, how are you capable of making these puns with a straight face?"

"I have my cock balls deep in you. Clearly I can't have a straight face. Quite gay. No, it is most definitely crooked. Just like how your steps are going to be tomorrow."

The dragon could only grunt--half because he was too exhausted to say anything else, and half because he didn't want his words twisted into another pun.

Mak smiled a not straight at all smile. "Well then, I suppose I'd better pick you up like you were my princess and carry you to your chambers, eh? I hope your ass gets used to me by spring, or your wobbliness could be noticed when your servants and the smallfolk return."

"Mhmm," Cel replied, his eyes closed.

The dire wolf slid his hands behind the drake and lifted him up with his uncommon strength, all while his knot was still tied to him. He trailed one hand along the blue fur trail lining the dragon's back until he pushed against his head, letting him droop against his broad shoulders like he was a large baby. "Heh," the wolf said, "you're cute when you're not acting like a lordling, draggy."

Cel grumbled incoherently as a matter of principle.

"Oh hush now, you're mine. My pretty silver lord." The wolf craned towards his ear and whispered something.

The dragon listened and pouted. "Must I?"

"Yes. Or perhaps I will see if dragons truly cannot be harmed by fire. It would be a shame if I had to burn half your face just to remind you who really commands who, hmm? As if my knot in your darkest part wasn't enough?"

Cel sighed, looked at the stone statues of his lineage, drooped his head in shame that he had forgotten in the throes of pleasure, and conceded. "In the sight of my ancestors and the gods, new and old, I swear I will be your bitch for this night and all the nights to come."

Mak patted him on the back, and once on his butt for good measure. "Good boy. Now we can go to your royal chambers, and I bet you want to cuddle against a nice warm body before you sleep, don't you?"

"Y-yes."

The dire wolf grinned and carried his prize up and out of the catacombs, letting the fires burn themselves out. "Good," he said, "so do I."

And who are you, the proud lord said,

that I must bow so low?

Only a male of a different shape,

that's all the truth I know.

In fur of black or scales of silver,

a man still has a cock,

And mine is long and thick, my lord,

as long and thick as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke,

that lord of the North,

But now the cum flows o'er his tail,

with no complaint to hear.

Yes now the cum flows o'er his tail,

and only begging to hear.