Nocturne, Part Two
Daumon awoke to the warm caress of sunlight on his scales, the morning light bathing the cold, stone room in the ardent splendor of the dawning sun. Virith shifted in his sleep as the lights warmth fell upon him as well. Daumon smiled at his blissfully unaware mate, still caught in the sopor of the dreamlands. The grey dragon lay nestled against Daumon's own body, his arms wrapped around the red dragons waste and his tongue protruding slightly from his unopen maw, altogether a paragon of undisturbed peace and rest.
It pained him to pull away from his mate's embrace. Even though he wanted to, he couldn't just watch his mate sleep for the rest of the morning. To waste daylight in such a fashion would be wonderful, but Daumon was sadly aware that he had promises to keep and deadlines to meet. He had a few potions of volatile nature that needed to be personally delivered, and so he was to meet a close friend in Emisear to accompany him on the trip.
Quietly, he slipped out of the bed and towards his wardrobe, selecting and clothing himself in a clean, black cotton robe.
"What, planning on leaving without saying goodbye?"
"Virith dear, you know I would never do such a thing."
Virith rolled his eyes. "Oh? Like the time you left me in the woods to spill your seed in a kobold? Or the time those ferals made you their bitch?" He smiled in a mockingly loving manner. "If I recall, in both of those instances, you left without saying so much as a word, and you came home limping after the latter."
"And during both of those instances, you were hiding in the bushes making love to your palm."
"That's not the point! I was...oh, fuck you."
"Perhaps later," Daumon said with a playful smirk, "once I get back we can do whatever you want. Does that sound good?"
Virith perked right up in the bed, eyes shining bright with excitement. The red dragon could just see the wheels turning in his lover's head, all the dirty thoughts racing through his mind. It was slightly alarming to see the little grey with such a gleeful, manic visage, but if Virith was happy, so was he.
"That sounds wonderful. I'll be holding you to it."
"Believe me, I know. Plan something good for when I get back."
Daumon strode back over to the bedside with a slow, hesitant gait and licked Virith's nose. He hated leaving Virith alone in the tower, even for brief moments. It was partially because he worried that Virith would experiment with some of his more dangerous supplies, but mostly because, unlike the little grey dragon, Daumon more openly cared for his mate.
"I'll miss you," he softly stated as he nuzzled Virith's neck, trying to shake off the idea of some tragedy befalling his lover. "And you know for a fact I'd never leave without first saying goodbye to a cute, little dragon such as yourself."
"Don't get all sappy on me," Virith teased, pushing Daumon's head away, "you might actually make me miss you!"
They both laughed, not knowing what else to do. A few days apart wouldn't prove disastrous, or at least it hadn't in the past. Daumon had returned home to a variety of mishaps, but Virith had never managed to topple the tower while he was away.
"Though, you should probably get ready," the small grey stated with a sigh, "you wouldn't want to be late now, would you?"
"Perhaps not."
Daumon kissed Virith once more on the nose, slid off the bedside and hurriedly headed up the stairs to his laboratory, debating about whether he should seal off the room before he left, just to ensure Virith wouldn't play with anything dangerous. That would probably be wise. The last time he'd had to leave, Virith had gotten into some of the transforming potions, and that had been one hell of a mess for Daumon clean up.
He entered the room, the familiar oaken bookshelves, ingredients and equipment a comforting sight to his troubled mind. But not much, the prospect of Virith and the tower exploding in a ball of alchemical fire plagued his thoughts. While part of him new he was being irrational, and that Virith was usually smart enough to avoid getting himself maimed, he just couldn't shake the feeling.
Damn it Daumon, stop being such a worrywart.
With a sigh, he continued his task at hand. Every time he had to leave, he went through the same process. Constantly locked in a mental war with his morbid fear. Virith just described it as Daumon being a little too clingy. Perhaps he was right and Daumon had nothing to worry about, whatever the case, he was still sealing the laboratory.
With his potions in a leather satchel, Daumon strode out of the lab, putting a minor locking spell on the door as it latched shut. Just so he could sleep at night. Satisfied, he headed back down to the bedroom, only to find Virith shockingly absent. Virith never got out of bed until noon at the earliest, and very few things could motivate the little, grey dragon to break that habit. Though, the momentary shock was replaced by concern, as Daumon realized that now he had to figure out where his impish lover had scampered off to.
A sudden, loud, metallic cacophony from below gave him a general idea. Never one to let Virith's antics go unchecked, Daumon bolted down the stairs to find his lover standing in the kitchen amid a heap of pots and pans, a knapsack held in his hands.
"And this is why I worry about you," Daumon said in exasperation, mindlessly tapping his foot in irritation as Virith sheepishly scratched his head. "Are you sure you'll be alright while I'm gone? I wouldn't mind having you tag along."
"Well that depends, how long do you intend to be?"
"At least three days, I'm first going down to Emisear to fetch Myra, if I don't hurry I may end up spending the night there. After that we'll be heading to Asidel to deliver these potions to one of my clients."
"Well of Myra's going to be there, I think I'll stay here," Virith huffed, "though, I must ask, don't your clients usually come to you?"
"Yes, that is usually the case, but this client is some human noble by the name of Luxian Malthi. One too egotistic to get off his own ass, from what I've heard. But nobles always pay well, so it's not all bad, and if it means some extra gold, I'll deal with the slight inconvenience."
Virith sighed, a somewhat disappointed look spreading across his countenance, possibly saddened by the length of Daumon's trip, but knowing Virith there was at least one ulterior motive. "Well, I grabbed you some food for your trip," he halfheartedly stated and offered Daumon the leather bag, "just some spiced meats and whatnot."
"If you're not careful, people might start to think you care about me."
"Shut up and take the food."
Smiling, Daumon accepted the knapsack and pulled his mate into a firm embrace, holding the smaller drake to his chest for a few long moments before letting go and beginning the agonizing walk down the stairs in silence, sharing the still, intimate wordlessness of the moment.
The towers bottom floor was a single cavernous chamber, neatly decorated with various talismans and souvenirs Daumon had collected over the years and furnished with plenty of chairs, couches and cushions, and looming before them was the massive pair of doors leading to the sunny outdoors. The stoic reminder of the red dragons imminent departure.
Daumon took a few steps closer to the door then spun around on the ball of his foot, claws scratching against the floor.
"You'll be fine, right?" He asked once more, making Virith twitch in practiced irritation.
"Most definitely. I am going to invite Carmak over, make a mess on the couch, have a drinking contest with some of your potions, and see how many different objects I can fit in my ass at once." Virith rolled his eyes and poked Daumon's gut when the red dragons eyes widened in shock. "I'm kidding, Daumon, by the gods you take everything too seriously. Though I do actually intend to invite Carmak over, or maybe someone a bit more cuddly, I don't know."
That brought some relief to Daumon's stressed mind, albeit very little. Hopefully, Carmak would keep Virith out of too much trouble, or at the very least bail him out of trouble as it arose. He grabbed the door handle and pulled the massive oak slab open, letting the daylight spill into the room.
He'll be fine, Daumon determined as he pulled Virith into one last hug before he left. The entire tower is filled with wards, even if he pulled it down on himself my magic should be enough. Plus, he'd sealed the top floor, and if that wasn't enough to keep Virith from "accidentally" ingesting something harmful again, nothing was.
"Don't hurry back," the grey dragon called after him, breaking his train of thought. "I need as much time as I can get."
Daumon smiled and turned to look back to where Virith stood in the doorway. "Time for what?"
"You'll see, once you get back."
Shuddering, the red dragon put on a sad smile and waved farewell to his lover as he trudged down the dusty trail to Emisear, desperately trying to relish the solitary company of the forested path as his home and lover both faded out of view, his anxieties pushed to the furthest recesses of his mind where he did all in his power to forget them.
*
With a sigh, Daumon looked down the ridge to Emisear and the setting sun in the distance. At least he'd made it before the last lights faded into darkness, traveling alone at night never ended well, too many times had bandits and similar rabble thought a lone dragon in the middle of the woods to be easy prey. Just because he had the power to burn them to a crisp or simply crush their skulls with a flick of his wrist didn't mean he took joy in the act. Nevertheless, he had made it without any trouble, and that was all he could ask for.
Emisear sat at the foot of the mountains, a collection of thatched roof huts tucked in Gaia's protection. Verdant, dense forestry surrounding the entirety of the town, and the earthen teeth shielding it from storm and raid alike, allowing a quiet and peaceful atmosphere to truly blossom in the sheltered mountain depths.
He continued down his path, descending from the ridge and into the outskirts of the humble village with a cheerful gait, swiftly and gracefully moving past the few townsfolk still going about their business, towards the center of town and the Fox's Cradle. He earned a number of glares and curses from a few individuals as he passed, even a few ruder remarks about his obvious profession. Daumon smirked to himself as he heard the murmurings of "warlock" and "sorcerer." He understood that his rune decorated robes were always a dead giveaway, but the feeble superstitions of the common folk never ceased to amuse him. How many times must he save their livestock or stop a spreading sickness before they started to accept him? He might not be the most skilled mage in the world, but he did both of those at least biannually.
The Fox's Cradle sat right in the center of the shoddy village, well-maintained and as lively as ever. Shattering bottles, yelling drunkards and rebounding laughter all smashed together in a sort of cacophonous symphony of debauchery, a testament to its owners own personality. But it had good drinks and even better company, and that's all people really cared about.
Daumon's smile widened as he opened the door and entered the scene of joyous ruckus, greeted by the dim orange light that brought everything into his sight. Merry bards performed on a raised island in the back, heavily intoxicated patrons swayed to-and-fro with the rhythms of chaos, and not a single mourning soul was in sight, as the Fox's Cradle had always been.
But Daumon hadn't came all this way to partake in the serendipitous mirth that had swept away everyone in sight, at least, not for a while, perhaps on the trip back. He moved through the mass of patrons, eyes scanning the jubilant crowd, searching for the only devilish individual who could ever hope to lead such sweet, gleeful anarchy.
She found him first.
He jumped in surprise as two furry arms wrapped around his waist and a wet, warm tongue washed over his neck.
"Guess who!" A voice wickedly laughed from behind.
"Myra, my dear, is this really necessary?" Daumon sighed. "We have a delivery to make!"
With an audible huff, Myra released Daumon and stormed into his field of vision, her naked breasts being the first things his eyes settled on before his eyes
"Fuck that. It's getting dark out, and I'm not going anywhere at night with a shady sorcerer such as yourself," she fumed, "your damn delivery can wait!"
Daumon quickly apologized as the snow-white fox grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a more formal embrace at the end of her tirade and lewdly rubbing her bare fur against his cotton robes. It felt like all the world stopped to watch them, as the riotous crowd fell silent to witness the affection of the taverns mistress, a rare sight indeed. Daumon knew at least three instances where Myra had thrown someone out the second story window for something as petty as staring at her breasts, which were always visible, as the feisty vixen only ever wore a single gold anklet.
"I've been planning for today you know," she whispered, "it isn't every day I can steal my favorite, perverted dragon from Virith."
"It's good to see you, Myra," Daumon awkwardly stated, "though you know I must ask, you've been planning for today?"
"Oh, nothing to extreme," she sang as she danced away from him, "you'll find out soon enough!"
He couldn't help but chuckle and follow Myra as she wove through the gawking crowd of patrons and zip up an old, wooden stairway leading to the rooms she rented out, and the one she kept for herself.
Within was probably the most well-furnished room in the entirety of Emisear. The large bed was covered in lavish cushions and silk sheets so fine any sensible monarch would be green with envy; a pristine ebony vanity rested just to the right of the door, piled with gold and silver jewelry that were scarcely used; and to top it all off a multitude of exotic rugs and abstract paintings filled the room with mismatched colors and a curious appeal.
Myra lay flat on the bed, legs spread towards the door and Daumon, showing off the pink fleshy lips of her delicate flower to any and all who dared catch a glimpse through the door. With a devilish grin, Daumon closed the door behind himself and watched with interest as one of Myra's hands fell onto her sex and her dainty fingers wriggled there way in, parting her own folds before slipping back out as slowly as they had entered, slick with the vixen's aromatic arousal.
It was a sight Daumon had seen before, but still one he could watch for hours on end. Already the sweet fragrance of her sapid cunt wafted through the air, filling the dragons sensitive nostrils as his own arousal gradually became more and more apparent beneath his dark robes, a pyramid slowly rising between his legs.
In and out, those fingers playfully teased his eyes as they sank deep into her slit, gyrated and pulled back out, lewdly demonstrating to Daumon just what part of the slutty vixen needed attention as of that moment. And he was more than happy to oblige.
Growling playfully, he threw off his robes and gripped his cock with both hands, coaxing a creamy bead of precum to drip onto the floor as he advanced on the lying fox. Luckily, he didn't have to worry about Virith being angry if he discovered Daumon's activities with Myra. They had an agreement that so long as it was with a close friend or there was no way to avoid it, there was nothing to be mad about. And while Virith pretended to dislike Myra, Daumon had caught him hilt deep in the vixen more times than he cared to remember.
She moaned as he grabbed her wrist and drew her fingers from their wet hiding place, trying desperately to keep them lodged in her glistening sex, but to no avail. Instead she found a dragons nose pressed right up against her aroused slit, hot breath sending electric tingles up and down her spine as Daumon inhaled her sweet scent at its source, tongue darting in and out to taste her piquant juices, lapping at the delicious nectar at the source of it all. She quivered and moaned as he nibbled and squeezed her with his lips, lost in the divine flavor that flooded his mouth, too aroused to even think clearly as the desire to lap at her wet cunt continued to grow.
A moan escaped through Myra's clenched teeth as her toes kneaded at the air, searching for anything to grip against as the fiery pleasure darted through her body in the ecstatic tempo set by the dragon's thick tongue. Erotic stroke after stroke massaged the walls and depths of her sex, spreading her lewd satisfaction as far as Daumon's tongue could reach. A silent scream shot through her mind as the tension in her nether depths slowly built up to their zenith. Fiery spasms shot through her passage, clenching hard and fast around the dragons tongue in an attempt to hold it in place as all the pleasure that pooled within her lower belly squirted into Daumon's awaiting maw.
He hummed as he savored the sticky and warm female juices that he'd welcomed into his mouth, rolling it across his tongue and letting it taint his saliva with its heavenly taste.
Myra lay still, panting, quivering in the aftermath of her pleasure. Stars dotted her vision as Daumon cleaned her sex of its remaining nectar, vulnerable to whatever the dragon might plot. Not that she minded, of course.
Daumon lifted his head to gaze into the vulnerable vixen's eyes as he climbed on top of her and pinned her to the bed, lust still burning in his gaze and a dripping piece of meat still swinging between his legs. She knew what he wanted, and despite the fact that she was still trying to recover from her first orgasm, she was more than happy to give it to him.
He nibbled at her ear as his tapered, pink flesh prodded at her entrance, drawing a lewd moan from the vixen as his arms grabbed her hips and he began to grind against her warm, wet cunt.
A cry of pleasure erupted from Myra's trembling mouth as Daumon vehemently hilted himself in her tunnel, the initial thrust almost bringing her to a second climax already. He gasped as his cock was engulfed in the taut, heated depths, blissful agony wracking his body as his entire length was massaged by the tight passage. They both moaned in unison as he withdrew and thrust again and again and again, each thrust faster and harder than the last as Daumon's desire to plant his seed in her depths overtook all other thoughts.
Myra cried out again and again as Daumon's cock pierced her farther than his tongue or any of her other "lovers" ever could. Tingles of sensual fire shot through her passage, stronger than before, threatening to peak before he released inside her. That was all she wanted as of that moment. To feel that thick, hot, slimy seed flooding her womb, to have him coat her tunnel in his draconic essence. She needed nothing else.
A needy growl rumbled in Daumon's throat as his claws dug into the soft flesh beneath her fur, drawing thin rivulets of blood as he wildly thrust into her depths. Part of him felt bad, but any sentiment he felt was crushed by the primal instinct screaming through his mind and consumed in the all encompassing, lustful fire that scorched his veins. He needed this. He needed to fuck her like he couldn't with Virith. He needed to breed her and plant his seed as deep as he could. He needed to flood her tender fuckhole with his very essence, to seed and taint the nether depths of her womb with the very core of his being as the pressure in their genitals grew ever so slowly.
All other thoughts were burned away as his thrusting continued to accelerate and the torturous tension began to build in their genitals, Daumon now repeatedly slamming himself hilt deep into her trembling body in order to sate the omnipotent desire for release that plagued his being. The only cure to his affliction was the tight depths of the sultry fox beneath him, and he had to have it.
An anguished cry of release flew from his lips as he slammed himself into Myra one last time, fiery spasms stealing his breath as the speed and friction of his relentless fucking finally brought him past the point of no return. Rope after rope of fresh, sticky semen sprayed into her indigent cunt, giving Daumon a reason to roar as all his pent up arousal and aggression was suddenly lost in the vixen's sweltry folds in the serendipitous heaven of his orgasm.
Myra cried out one last time as she felt Daumon's thrusts come to a halt and pure, painful pleasure scorched her depths, shooting into her womb like a river of molten lead and triggering her own climax. Daumon growled as her cunt clenched down on his flailing cock, trying to hold it as it fired hot, sticky dragon seed into her vulpine depths, painting the walls of her passage white with virile essence. She moaned and writhed underneath the dragon as he continued to pump her full of her seed, the excess spilling onto the sheets of the bed.
And then as quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving them in the aftermath of their decadence, panting as the waves of orgasmic ecstasy faded from their systems and Myra once again found her voice.
"So, you sure we have to deliver these potions of yours?" She panted underneath him, "I'd be much happier doing this all day!"
"As would I," Daumon assured her as he rolled onto his back, letting her lie on his chest as they both struggled for air. "But I'd rather not make an enemy out of a client."
For a while they just stayed like that, with Daumon's seed oozing out of her stuffed slit and onto the dragons loins. If only everything were this nice and Daumon didn't have deliveries to make, if only he could just enjoy the company of those close to him without any responsibilities, would that really be too much to ask for?
Finally, after a few passing minutes, Myra grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and pulled herself off his deflating cock, fresh cum spilling out and pooling onto his belly like an erotic, white waterfall, receiving an annoyed growl from Daumon in the process. Then with an acrobatic leap, she flew off the bed, cum trickling down her leg.
"Don't think I'm done with you yet," she warned as she opened the door and stepped outside, "I've got a long night planned Daumon, don't think you're out of the fire yet!"
"Then where are you going?"
"I've got some things to check on for tomorrow," she assured him, then added with a lascivious smile, "and some friends to grab for tonight's private celebration!"
Daumon sighed as she darted out of sight, leaving a faint trail of white beads on the floor behind her. He probably could have cleaned her off first, and spared someone the task of cleaning up the floor. But it was too late now, and he had his own wellbeing to be concerned about. Something told him that his ass was going to hurt in the morning.