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Art done by: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thesecretcave/

Fyren belongs to: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/thanris/

Ihroun belongs to a friend of: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/draco-cretel/

Allanor belongs to: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/carenathziroth/

The story is written by me, Cheetahs

A Different type of Ambush (Illustrated Story collaboration done with The_secret_cave )

"I shall hunt for us both," Fyren offered, but the cunning Ihroun padded over to him, brushing her body against him as if feline.

"Then I shall become most pleasant company."

She trusted him to catch food; just not with the lives of other dragons. Fyren suffered no intruders unless they had cunt to offer, along with the willingness to surrender it to his whims. Being a lone hunter, it bothered Fyren to share the winds with Ihroun. She paid little attention to the herds of elk, always looking beyond them for signs of other dragons.

"I thought we are hunting to fill our bellies."

"We are," Ihroun said, purposefully diverting from her course to pursue something else--or someone else. "But today is the day when we may just match our strength."

Fyren spotted him too, crossing The Barrens sprawling past the row of hills separating the flatlands from the highlands. Although a mere, distant, wingless speckle of blue, the foreign color could mean only one thing.

A dragon.

Fyren's instincts flared to life, washing over his mind like a cleansing tempest, obliterating any trace of self-restraint cultivated by Ihroun. An intruder penetrated his territory. A contender might challenge him for his territory.

And if he won, he'd claim Ihroun.

Fyren saw red before his eyes, pumping his wings with all the speed and might he could muster, shooting past ignorant Ihroun, blind to threats, ignorant to instincts. As the outline of the intruder gained shape, Fyren's zeal lost some of its edge.

"A furred, wingless runt," he said under his breath, as if to reassure himself of the reality of the tresspaser. Why, this wasn't even going to be a fight, but a massacre, depending on the gender and intentions of the trespasser.

Fyren dove upon the strange creature, careening with his tail to adjust the angle of his descent as panic struck the blue drake. He so hated chasing down a moving target, but the unexpected visitor decided to make things easy for Fyren by stopping seconds before the inevitable impact.

"I'm a traveler," he roared with a distinctive male voice. "I wish but for simple passage to Kollivar."

A pity, Fyren thought as he pushed his rear legs forward to land upon his prey. Were you female, I would have quenched my thirst with your climax.

His hind paws impacted with the furred but muscular back of the wingless dragon, dark claws attempting to sink into taut muscle, only to comb through his cerulean mane instead. With an unexpectedly quick reflex, the drake rolled onto his back at the last possible second, swatting the base of Fyren's tail with a forepaw hard enough to throw him off balance.

A roar of surprise mixed with equal parts pain broke loose from Fyren's throat as he crashed on his side, skidding along the grass for several feet. Burning pain lashed across the entirety of his right wing, the sturdy scales protecting his flank merely sore.

"You shall die for raising paw against me, trespasser," Fyren hissed. He scrambled onto his feet, right wing askew, the pain too intense to allow him to safely fold it. He half expected the wingless drake to submit, beg for his life, and maybe earn a head start in his journey before Fyren hunted him down.

Instead, the stranger lowered himself halfway to the ground into a combat stance, meeting Fyren's snarl with bared fangs.

"I may, but not before I take your ability to fly with me."

Fyren's legs buckled, ready to hurl him at his opponent.

"Enough!" Ihroun's sharp, regal voice cut through the skies. The dragoness landed between them, wings extended to provide a makeshift curtain that separated the two males. "You're not going to lay a single claw on my friend unless you wish your sheath torn off," she twisted her head back to warn their uninvited guest.

Fyren's snarl softened into a devious grin. With Ihroun on his side, this strange creature just became a defenseless meal.

"And you," she glared at Fyren, pupils thin and sharp like the blade on a human's dagger. "Such wanton behavior makes me reconsider our friendship. You mean to tell me that I have enjoyed your hospitality, your lair, your very seed, simply because I am female?" She snorted a cloud of grey, heated smoke in frustration. "The Fyren I know wouldn't lash out at a traveler, at least not before they have the chance to explain themselves."

Explain...themselves?

"This is my territory!" He loosened a deafening roar, directing his fiery torrent into the sky, lest he melted his very mate. "I conquered it with my pain and blood from a dragon who would have raped and eaten you afterwards. You should be grateful my might prevailed, for I never, NEVER , allowed myself the treat of ejaculating without granting you at least two orgasms. That is the sort of benevolent mate that I am, female!"

"I believe you," the stranger's calm, elegant voice came. He poked his head under Ihroun's wing, much to the indignation of the other dragons. Ihroun planted her hind paw against his snout, shoving him back.

"Nobody cares what you believe. Stay silent while you still have a jaw attached to your head."

"Let him speak," Fyren demanded, shifting onto his haunches and curling his tail around his forepaws as a peace offering. Though his warrior's blood still boiled within his veins, the last thing Fyren wanted was to plant dire misconception in Ihroun's head. Allowing this runt his words might tarnish his reputation with the neighboring dragons, but such price seemed inconsequential to Ihroun's good will.

For far too long had Fyren been alone with his thoughts and his voice bouncing off the cold, uncaring walls of his lair. Coping up with loneliness was one thing, but what drove Fyren to the brink--and what he would never admit to anyone, not even to Ihroun--were the wet dreams. No male who woke up covered in his own spooge deserved to call themselves dragon, and that same, bleak future awaited Fyren unless he reined in his temper.

After a moment of reflection for all three dragons, Ihroun furled her wings. Fyren's claws tensed, and his lips twitched from the urge to snarl at sharing the very ground with a wingless mongrel.

"I am Allanor. If my name is of no importance to you, then please understand that I am the last dragon to dispute the ownership of your territory. You are, indeed, mighty, and your fair looks and self-control have been rewarded with a most beautiful mate. May your hatchlings grow ever--"

"Is there a point to all your incoherent rambling?" Ihroun cut in, her tail swishing nervously.

"There is, if you but let me speak," Allanor requested by bowing his head graciously in supplication.

"Continue," Fyren allowed with a wave of his paw.

"Very well." Allanor circled around Ihroun to position himself between the two dragons, more afraid of her than of his very assailant. "I am but a traveler on my way to the human city of Kollivar, on business that can be interpreted as personal but would divulge if properly threatened. No secrets are worth my pain, rrr?"

Fyren couldn't help but chuckle at his rich lexicon and fluent dialogue. He spoke like a veritable scholar, a peculiar quality among dragons.

That is, if he could even be called such. Allanor's straight, angular jaws resembled a slice of cheese cut by the very people Allanor wished to visit, far too exotic for Fyren's tastes. The ebony horn tipping his snout, together with the four spikes and horns surrounding his ears, betrayed a hint of dragon's blood, but his luxurious cyan mane, elongated feet, and sheathe begged to differ.

A freak, Fyren decided. Yet a rather interesting one.

"No more threats shall come to you," Ihroun reassured him, sharing a look with Fyren, the sort which forced him to meet her halfway, with a snort of indifference. "I have also crossed through Kollivar on multiple occasions, so I'll tend to your wounds, instruct you on which direction to take, and bid you farewell."

"I am much obliged, but my wounds are my own to care for." Allanor began to backtrack away from Ihroun, her resolve to follow through with her plan etched on her hard, nonchalant features.

Fyren lifted a forepaw tentatively, eager to intervene, but also wary of Ihroun's retribution. Just this morning, she had discarded Fyren's proposition to cure her barren womb with practiced ease. Now that they had a spectator, Fyren simply couldn't afford to lose another argument, least of all to a female, right in front of another male.

With great difficulty, he settled his paw back on the ground, raking at the grass with his claws, grinding his teeth impatiently while the one he considered mate talked sweetly to the freak. She motioned around with her wingtip at first, explaining the best and safest route to take on foot. Then, she settled on her haunches beside him, employing her forepaws to trace visual representations of various landmarks in the air. Her meticulousness infuriated Fyren, but not more than the licks she slid across what looked like merely torn fur to Fyren.

"He's not hurt," Fyren growled in protest. "I'd have known if I drew blood."

Ihroun's head swerved in his direction to throw him a disarming glare. "If you weren't such a savage, perhaps I'd have more faith in you."

Fyren kept his jaw agape, making several attempts at replies that never came. Allanor's disconcerted look contributed to his inner turmoil, the freak practically fretting on his haunches, looking everywhere but at Ihroun.

She may be right, realization dawned upon Fyren. I can't afford to let instincts get the better of me any longer, not when I'm so close to have a family with her.

Allanor's strange purr, together with Ihroun's giggle, brought Fyren back to the present, where a runt engorged himself in front of his very mate.

Before Fyren had the chance to dive upon the unsuspecting pervert and tear into his neck, Allanor shot forward, whimpering apologetically to Ihroun.

"I--I didn't mean to grow," the well-spoken drake stuttered. "It's just that my business in Kollivar concerns breeding. I'm a breeder, and I breed a lot, certainly more than the average dragon." He attempted a pacifying smile, but it came out wry and awkward and quite hilarious to Fyren, whose raspy laughter served to further humiliate Allanor.

"The issue is, fair dragoness," he continued while backing away from Ihroun at an awkward shuffle meant to keep his black shaft hidden from view, "the wilderness leaves me wanting. Desire sets in, along with infuriating sensitivity, enough for even a harmless lick to coax most inappropriate response."

He turned to Fyren, paws pressed together pleadingly. "I don't intend to make a move on your mate. She is yours, and you are hers. That much is obvious, even to an ignorant passerby such as myself."

Ihroun's laughter unsettled Fyren with its crude playfulness. "We're not mates," she said, flexing her tone with flirtatious hues that squeezed Fyren's heart in its vise-like grip. "But I appreciate your candor nonetheless."

She canted and craned her head this way and that, attempting to sneak a peek of Allanor's genitals, but the drake quickly turned his back to her, tail curling about anxiously.

"Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me. I'd like to be left alone."

A boulder dislodged from Fyren's heart, only to crash back down on it and squeeze it to a pulp as Ihroun's teasing trill, previously reserved to him alone, flared to life.

"I would like to watch. Despite being a traveler of some renown myself, I have yet to encounter your kind."

"Absolutely not," Fyren shot onto his fours, his anger bubbling under his calm façade. "You did what you set off to accomplish here. Let us hunt and return to our lair."

He tried to appease her with soft nuzzles and gentle licks, but Ihroun's gaze remained fixated on the frozen, self-conscious Allanor.

"Just suck your cock dry and be on your way," Fyren raised his voice at the drake, his already frail patience starting to crumble.

A strange satisfaction welled within Fyren. He couldn't quite put his claw on it, but controlling--no, corrupting--Allanor allowed him to see the drake in a different light. Similar to the thrill of doing exactly the opposite of what his parents requested of him during his younger days, Fyren saw potential in guiding Allanor down a slippery slope within these parts. After all, a runt such as him never posed any sort of dangers to him, so what better way to appease Ihroun than play the proper dragon?

Allanor looked left and right, ahead and behind. Ultimately, a whimper of defeat fled his maw. "I...have never pleasured myself such. I wouldn't know how to proceed."

"It's quite easy," Fyren said, stepping in front of Ihroun to deny her the possibility to interfere. "Tease your sheath until your tip shows. Then, lap at it until you are fully grown. Ease your knot out if you must, but at this point, you have to wrap your tongue around your member and drag it into your maw just as you push your mouth down onto your member. Your own throat is as soft and wet as any pussy you have ever entered."

Ihroun threw Fyren a quizzical look, and the dragon shrugged with his wings, leading her to believe he spoke from an experience yet unshared with her. In truth, Fyren beamed on the inside, scales tingling from the ecstatic onrush at convincing this runt to perform such a demeaning act on himself.

May you choke on your own seed, Fyren cursed him in his mind, still unable to forgive him for trespassing into his territory.

Under the watchful gaze of two imposing dragons, Allanor had no choice but to switch onto his side, presenting them with the white of his belly, along with the plump sheath sitting between his haunches, heavy with black meat. His wrinkled tip reminded Fyren of a horse's shaft, a peculiar member for a curious creature.

"As females often say to tease their mates, not every venture ends in climax."

"Given how susceptible you are to a tongue's stroke on your body, I am certain your member will spill its load before you properly suckle on it," Fyren said, settling beside his mate on his haunches, a wing draped over her frame as they both made themselves comfortable. Ihroun nibbled on the scutes of his neck, purring appreciatively at his tact, completely oblivious to his gambit.

Allanor, too, fell into his role, but not because Fyren or even Ihroun convinced him to do so. The spark of defiance smoldering within his eyes, as well as his sly expression, hinted at something deeper.

He's just wishing to save face and not appear as a flustered fool in front of a female, Fyren justified the eagerness with which he raised a hind leg in the air to gain access to his cock tip. Growls of various intensities rippled through his throat, his member beginning to extend, the tip of it blooming into a horse-like flare. Soft ridges marred the underside of his shaft, and a plump knot bulged within the confines of his taut sheath, begging to be released. Allanor teased it with a single tongue stroke, then another, and another, but failing to push it back completely.

His frustrated growl triggered Ihroun's giggle whilst forcing Fyren onto his feet at the same time.

"I can't proceed further," Allanor confessed, looking properly abashed. "It's not that I don't want to do it, but as a breeder, even the prickle of a fang upon my tool of the trade can hold dire consequences."

"You males are such a conundrum," Ihroun warbled, absorbing every inch and feature of his cock, no doubt wondering how such long, satisfying girth felt within her. "Makes me wonder how you'd ever discover the pleasure of ejaculating without a female to guide you through it."

"I've been fortunate to never preoccupy myself with such thoughts," Allanor said, serene like the noon breeze, his initial shame all but forgotten.

He's been toying with me--with us--all along! The painful discovery rammed into Fyren like the headbutt charge of his territory's previous owner. The meekness, the obedience, was all just a façade meant to allow him to flaunt his goods to Ihroun without giving Fyren reason to act.

Not surprising, the dragoness fell victim to his charms, the kind-hearted fool once again being taken advantage of before his very eyes.

"I am presently taken with Fyren. My body is, naturally, reserved for his needs of the flesh, but since he has strong opinions towards the ingestion of seed, I believe he won't mind if I lend you my tongue."

"I do mind," Fyren tried his best to withhold his temper. "You merely wanted to watch, so watching is what we are going to do."

"Says the male who vilified my skill with my tongue and swore to never repeat that experience," Ihroun retorted, stepping up to him. "I am your current partner, Fyren, but not your mate, to be controlled as you see fit. Is it not enough that I pledged my pussy to you? Do my wants, my craves, matter not, so long as I fit the perfectly designated role of your virile mind?"

Fyren growled at her, at Allanor, at the very world for being so awfully complicated. He could not--and would never--let Ihroun take a mere whiff of his musk, let alone touch the member of another while his. At the same time, Ihroun held a great and irrational fear of being manipulated by others, and the only way to her heart was through one too many compromises.

Amidst the boiling rage threatening to implode, the seething frustration at being caught between a rock and a hard place, and the impotence to solve this situation through fair combat, a most preposterous notion hit Fyren.

"I can't let you do that," Fyren said to Ihroun calmly. "I cannot go back against my very beliefs, but what I can do is offer Allanor a means of relief with which he is already quite familiar with."

As he gave voice to his idea, the fulfillment from before returned in full force, sweeping away all of his unnecessary worries and replacing them with a soothing, comforting feeling. Thanks to his quick thinking, he would get to both tower above his trespasser and corrupt his moral compass. Every time he'd breed his precious females, Fyren's likeness would replace them to remind him of how low he stooped for just a little pleasure.

"That is a lofty promise you just made," Ihroun said to him, flexing her wings in anticipation for the upcoming spectacle, eyes glittering with veiled admiration. "Go on," she motioned with a forepaw. "He's all yours."

"I'm his?" Allanor shifted his attention from Ihroun to Fyren, dread settling on his face. "What do you mean? What--or how--can this exceedingly hubristic dragon tend to the needs of a male he clearly despises?"

Fyren didn't deign him with a reply. He simply straddled his body, gently rolling a forefinger down his shaft until he reached the middle. Then, he pulled his erection into an upward position, guiding his own genital slit above it, aiming for his swollen tip. When his vent connected with the dark, heated flesh, Fyren squatted down on it, accepting Allanor into his very body, a smoldering growl humming in his throat.

Allanor's limbs jerked. An audible gasp fled his parted jaws, eyes wide and lips drawn into a pleasured snarl.

"I've spilled my seed moments before we happened upon you, so you better get your mind off my mate, for I shall be the one to bear your unworthy seed."

Allanor nodded in acknowledgment, only to whimper in protest at Fyren's accelerating pace. Though fluids clung to his walls to provide proper moisture, Fyren's taut insides shuddered from the unexpected intrusion, the sensitive flesh knitting his walls sore and unaccustomed to penetration.

Fyren fought back his discomfort. Better that he endured Allanor than submit his mate to his whims. Despite the pressure exerted upon his inner walls, Fyren savored Allanor's gasps, whines and growls, extracting great enjoyment for putting such significant dent in his plans.

Not the pussy you expected, eh? Fyren mocked him in his mind, unwilling to spoil the show for Ihroun who now lounged on her side, teasing her vent with the tip of a digit.

"Rrrah!" Allanor suddenly rasped, his cock lurching inside Fyren, spurting a gob of slimy precum that immediately soothed Fyren's ache, inviting strangely pleasurable tingles. "I can't--can't do this. I admire your initiative, dear dragon, but I--hrah!" he grunted as Fyren pressed down on him, his vent kissing Allanor's knot. "I'm not accustomed to such tight, dry confines!"

Fyren snarled in protest, the precum slipping from his slit a testimony to Allanor's pleasure, the throbs running through his rock-hard shaft ever increasing in their frequency. Just as he prepared to unveil his lie, Ihroun tongue upon his neck gave him pause, more so than her devious grin.

"I've seen enough knots to know better. The fault doesn't lie with the slit, but with the cock," she said, turning her back to Allanor and raising her tail to flaunt her femininity to him. "Fyren kept his word. Now it's your turn to hold yours and ejaculate your burdening seed. Here, let me help."

The dragoness lowered her slit upon Allanor's nose, the scent of her folds already triggering a spasm through his oversized shaft. Fyren's frame shuddered in unison with that of the blue dragon, his balance precarious as he reared on his hind legs to provide space for Ihroun above Allanor.

"Lean against me," Ihroun advised while rubbing her cheek against his, her strong, melodious purr the most beautiful song Fyren had ever heard. He placed his forepaws on her sturdy shoulders, claws clenching around the plates covering them as spikes of fiery pleasure bathed his insides. He began to teeter, unaccustomed to the eerie sensation of precum sputtering into his very being.

Unlike his agitated self, Ihroun was a picture of self-control and enjoyment. She pressed her pussy against Allanor's tongue with utmost nonchalance, kneading at his lower belly with a forepaw to reward his hungry licks and seizing Fyren's shoulder with the other to help keep them locked together.

"I never expected you to be so...imaginative," she warbled, searching for Fyren's tongue to coil around and tug it into her maw for a long, passionate kiss. Fyren savored every second of it, just like the flesh lining his genital walls relished the hefty stimulation exerted upon it. When Ihroun released her hold on him, Fyren reciprocated the gesture, inviting her into his maw this time around.

"Kiss, you two darlings," Allanor said after he trailed his tongue along Ihroun's rift to collect her gathering arousal and swallow the rich nectar. "I'm just going to lie still and make out with my own set of lips while the alpha male who wanted me dead humps me as if female."

Allanor tensed his hips, burying his thick shaft into Fyren up to his knot, glans knocking against his sleeping member. Fyren scrunched his eyes shut, snarling not in anger, but in pure ecstasy the likes of which he had never known. It might have started it as a ploy to undermine Allanor, but now that Fyren held him inside his slit, things seemed...different. The firmness of his cock, along with the flood of precum that lubricated Fyren to perfection, carried the red dragon to a realm of unfathomable pleasures. His keen, receptive muscles tightened around Allanor, every ridge swollen with arousal, his very horse-like glans flared to increase the surface covered by his member.

"Don't linger on those lips for too long, otherwise I'll put a premature end to your pleasure." Ihroun proved the truth of her words by curling her toes around his exposed knot, squeezing it softly. A lance of precum speared through Fyren, both dragons loosening a raspy moan in unison.

"Leave him be," Fyren heaved, eyes half lidded with the toll of mating. "I'm the one who sets the pace for this mating."

"You sure are," Ihroun agreed, placing a fond lick across his nostrils. "But you might want to rush a little, as your member might just rouse from its slumber."

He chuckled at that, continuing to pump his hips up and down, taking in Allanor's raven-black meat, and then withdrawing to leave it wet and glossy with his precum. Ihroun had it half right. While his arousal would have led to an erection, the novelty of such act smothered that particular instinct, thus letting Fyren enjoy this other type of stimulation.

Ihroun enjoyed herself too. As soon as Allanor's tongue penetrated her depths, a sharp, thin, melodious squeak burst from her maw. Her hindquarters bucked against Allanor's snout, demanding more of that thick, flexible appendage, subtle gasps escaping her.

"He's...quite good...isn't he?" Ihroun said. After less than a minute, she began panting for breath, tongue lolling on the side of her maw, face scrunching every time Allanor teased her cervical sphincter.

Fyren didn't answer. He wished not speak words of praise for Allanor, deserved as they were. Instead, he increased the frequency of his thrusts, hoping to race him to his climax before he granted that great pleasure unto Ihraun.

"Hrrrrhhhhh," Allanor rumbled, his tongue fleeing Ihroun's folds, soggy face poking past her haunch to hiss at Fyren. "I'm...I'm close..." he whimpered, hindquarters beginning to jerk in unison with the throbs rushing through his rock-hard shaft.

Fyren ignored the burning sensation of his fatigued muscles. He overlooked the electrical surges rushing through his nether muscles, making them shudder and distend against his will.

Cum, you bastard, Fyren thought, accelerating his pace further. Fill me with the product of your lonesome, meaningless existence.

His thoughts faded into a sharp burst of unimaginable pleasure as Allanor took advantage of his distraction to shove his knot into Fyren when he least expected it. The red dragon had never believed such act of depravity possible, and yet, his earsplitting roar was a testimony to the unexpected turn of events.

"Graaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarh!" Fyren cried out, crashing onto Ihroun, forcing the female to bear his weight, a fierce snarl etched upon her face. Forced onto her fours and trapped between the two roaring and unresponsive males, she could do naught but wait for their senses to return.

Fyren's vision flickered, colors dancing before his eyes, head spinning from the overwhelming sensation of being stuffed to the brim. As if that wasn't enough, hot waves of thick, fertile cum splattered against his oversensitive walls and member, bathing them in scalding batter. Spasms wracked his young body, unaccustomed to such feast for the senses. His genital walls clenched and relax against Allanor's member out of their own accord, leaving Fyren powerless to stop the awkward sensation that served only to amplify the gushes of Allanor's cum.

The blue drake's dark flare smothered his member, keeping it weak and flaccid, forcing his walls to add to the pleasure swarming his body. As if to spite Fyren, Allanor wiggled his knot inside him, drawing forth even stronger tremors. Paralyzed by these overpowering sensations, Fyren could do naught but ride out Allanor's orgasm, squeaking and tensing up whenever a new wave of seed graced his insides.

Once Allanor's spurts subsided to a smooth, continuous trickle of seed, pleasure's hold over Fyren's senses weakened, allowing him to open his eyes to a scornful Ihroun and a smug, satisfied Allanor.

"You're by far the best male I have bred, and I have been inside enough slits to say this with utmost certainty," Allanor said, reaching forth to lick Fyren's snout.

Fyren froze, paralyzed by the shocking revelation. All this time, he thought he was toying with Allanor, when instead, Allanor pulled the strings all along. Had he the strength, he would have sliced off his insolent tongue, but their union, along with his face drenched by Ihroun's juices, made it impossible for him to act.

Suppose I'll let this one slide, he decided, too distracted by Allanor's comical expression as Ihroun shoved her pussy into his face, ready to claim her own orgasm.