Sorry everyone, I have been gone a long time. I had a series of fortunes and misfortunes happen to me which culminated both in me going to college this semester, and hopefully the ones after, and in my contracting Swine Flu. I have recovered and, well, recovered, and now will resume the chapters.

Chapter 5 -Lightning

Davis rolls over in bed, groaning, holding his back. The room still smells of the hot sex of the night before, the ENTIRE night before. He gets out of bed, moving carefully to avoid waking his sexy dragoness, Saphyra, from her sleep. He tiptoes out of the room and heads downstairs, not wearing anything at all, and gets a cup of coffee and a few Tylenol. He had one hell of a night last night and as he splashes his face with water to wake himself up, he takes a hold of the Fabreeze spray bottle.

The previous day at about five in the afternoon, Saphyra had suddenly perked up, ran over and pounced him, dragged him to the bedroom, and proceeded to give him two hours worth of sex before he even found out she had gone into heat. After another two, maybe three, hours, he actually won free of her exhausted arms and got to his computer. A Google search later he discovered that dragonesses usually have a mild sexual appetite, allowing them to pick and choose more easily than human women, with the exception of when they go into heat. Apparently this happens only once in a decade, and when it does, if the dragoness is mated, she goes into a needful state that lasts for about 24 hours. During that time, she does not let her male out of her sight. When unmated, however, a dragoness does not have such a high desire, since she is not connected intimately with a male. Most don't even notice it at all and it was rare that a dragoness got pregnant outside of a Bond. In those cases, however, destruction followed in the wake of the male that ran from the dragoness he knocked up.

Brent pours himself a cup of coffee and leans back, putting in three spoons of sugar and a little bit of creamer. The first sip is magical, seeming to wash away his grogginess. The second sip has him fully awake, and he hears a small pop from the room right over his head. Saphyra is awake. "Oh Brent~..." Comes the musical voice she uses when she wants something, drawing out his name. He leaves the coffee on the counter and ducks down, backing away towards the back door, spraying Fabreeze out silently as he moves back. He's about to open the door when he remembers the alarm is on. He quickly makes his way thru the Fabreeze cloud, towards the cupboard area, and then, sneaks into the bathroom back there. She would have to choose which way he went now.

"Brent~..." She sings out again. He can hear her coming down the stairs. He hears her stop at the base and stand still, then move off. He cracks open the door and sees her looking around, then head to the back door. With silent steps he sneaks out of the bathroom. "Fabreeze has its own scent, love. You know that, right?" She asks, turning, Brent freezing in mid step, one foot in the air, angled down. Suddenly he's off like a bolt up the stairs, she following him, laughing and calling about how the hunt makes the end game so much more pleasurable.

Five minutes later he's cornered in the gym room of their house, looking at her. "I'm still soar..." he says, whining a little bit. This only brings a grin from her.

"No pain, no gain, my love." She says, closing in, her wings spread out. Even though she and her love have played this game before, she's savoring this. She remembers all the times during the War she tried to catch him, and this brought back those memories full force, in addition to her desire to have him in bed with her, have him further ease the burning in her womb. She slowly advances towards him, and as she reaches her 'prey', Brent stands up straight and kisses her fully, swinging her down and around onto the couch nearby. She grins up at him, and he down at her. She follows his hands, turning over, spreading her legs, and lifting her tail, Davis comes up behind her. "What are you going to do to me now that you've got me, soldier?" She asks a wide grin on her face and a twinkle in her eye.

"I'm going to pump you for information." He says, getting a snorted chuckle for his efforts. Then he sticks his dick inside her, and the response is immediate and loud, Saphyra roaring out in pleasure as her mate penetrates, pushes in, and actually touches her cervix. She was still as hot as last night, and just as wet. Loud, wet, squelching noises come up as Brent draws himself back out and then pounds in again, getting into it hot and heavy with Saphyra, her moans and pants like music to his ears as he takes her as hard as he can.

Saphyra, for her part, can't imagine a better start to the day. The sex is great, but the games they play, she loves them! It's what makes everything worthwhile, in the end. Feeling her bonded mate's hands on her shoulders, pushing her down lower so he can get in farther, her womb opening for him just slightly, his precum fueling her fires even more, stoking them to full blaze. It's less than before, but no less intense and passionate. She's crying out his name as she goes over the edge over and over again. She would worship the ground he walked on if she was treated like this every day.

Fifteen minutes later both are downstairs, grinning at each other. Brent picks up the phone and calls his work. "I won't be able to make it in today." He tells his Commander. "Saphyra's having an issue." He winks to her. The commander seems to know what he means by that and promises to make him make up for it later. Brent hangs up the phone and kisses Saph's nose. "Shall we, Mrs. Davis?" He asks, holding up his hand.

"Certainly, Mr. Davis." She responds, putting her hand in his and letting herself be led back upstairs.

---

Two days later, Brent yawns as he wakes up in their hotel room in North Carolina. The commander had gotten him back for his private day, assigning Saphyra and him to go to the Air Show at Pope Air Force Base, right near Fort Bragg. Saphyra was happy last night, able to visit her friends, Cynder, Diamond, and Gharna. They had known immediately that she had been in heat, and that it had been a good heat for her. To quote them she 'smelled pregnant'. Brent was glad, having heard this from Saphyra, that he wasn't there with her. Now he stretches out and pokes Saphyra on the shoulder. "Come on, time to get up." He says, and gets up himself, Saphyra groaning and stretching out everything, the blankets sliding off easily as her wings stretch out above her.

Saphyra sneaks up behind her man and hugs him, letting those hardened nipples of hers touch slide along his back as she wraps her arms around him. She then heads to the kitchen area and starts up the coffee while Brent showers. Thirty minutes later and they're on the tarmac, readying Brent's SF-22 for takeoff. They needed to get all the planes up and flying around to make sure they still worked after all. Saphyra gets into all her armor, looking great in it, the armor having been freshly painted and buffed. She needed to be so polished. According to the schedule given to them, they were going to do a duet in the air, fly in the heritage flight, Brent would be demonstrating the SF-22, she her own armor, and they'd be on the ground between all those, answering questions and such. Saphyra would be happy to do that. She used to do it as princess, now she's doing it as a representative of her kind in the military. There were other dragons here too, some in ground combat armor, others in the slightly heavier armor for close air support, in particular, Cynder here for it. Gharna was changed on the ground into bipedal form, in uniform, to answer questions. While the ground people were making sure their areas were clear, the aircraft would take to the air and get the kinks out. Tomorrow the real show would happen.

Brent, on the other hand, dreads this. He was in an air show once, and he hated it. It would be slightly more bearable this time, he's sure, but for now, well, he's dreading it. As he gets clearance for takeoff, right before the Thunderbirds, he rolls down the runway and takes to the air. He rolls around a bit and climbs high, flying over the prop stunt planes. He's able to see the Thunderbirds take off in their F-16s, and see Saphyra come up next to him. "Well, he got us back good." He says to Saphyra, over their link.

"Yes, but we're getting paid for doing a show and standing around, instead of flying a patrol." She responds, and he can feel her wink at him underneath her visor. He shrugs and looks around. They have everything here. M1A6 Abrams tanks, with their dragon scale armor glittering in the sun from this distance, M2A8 Bradley's, their armor likewise shimmering, 30mm rail guns pointed up to a spot just above the horizon. Dedicated anti air emplacements, mobile radars, Apache gunships, updated so they no longer have propellers

The next day, they are there, on the ground, Brent standing next to his plane and Saphyra laying behind in full armor, finding out why Brent hates air shows very quickly. She was bored, and almost a little embarrassed. People kept asking them to pose together for pictures, and many people wanted to shake Brent's hand for his part in the war. Many dragons bowed to her as they passed by, respectful. All and all it was dull. The only fun parts were when she got to watch the prop planes take to the air, and have her bonded explain to her that wars used to be fought with these planes. Then it was Brent's turn. He taxied his fighter for takeoff, took off right in front of the crowd, with a steep ascent, rolled in the air. The commander at this base had said to have fun with the plane today, and not go under 500 feet unless over the runway. He loops himself down over himself, neat as you please, and comes rocketing down, people thinking he's going to hit the runway as the announcer talks about what he's doing, then he pulls back on the stick, the inertial dampeners kicking in as he pulls up, the maneuverability making him almost box the corner, his turn is so sharp, flying over the runway at twenty feet. He sees what Saphyra sees in his mind's eye, the contrails from his wings where he made the turn still hanging in the air slightly, the crowd's cheering. He wobbles his fighter to wave the wings at the people on the ground as the announcer uses the opportunity to talk about the inertial dampeners and how they negate practically all g on the pilot, making black outs and red outs a thing of the past.

He then pulls into a slow climb, then turns around, and does the crisp rolls associated with performance displays at an air show. Then comes his favorite part, he loops around and comes over the crowd at full afterburner, the sound down there almost deafening for the people on the ground, who are cheering! After all, they come to these for this. Two more passes, and then he pulls away, making a slow turn as Saphyra takes to the sky. She does her display, hovering, firing at mock targets with her beam, from a long distance, and then shows how, with thrusters, she is able to keep up with modern fighters, Brent flying at nearly the speed of sound, a cone of air forming around the middle of his fighter as he flies thru, Saphyra keeping pace with a similar cone. Then they both break to one side and begin a twisting climb around each other, breaking at the top of it and looping back down, passing within inches of each other, the ability to 'dance' like this only possible because of their bond.

Brent comes down and levels out at 500 feet, Saphyra flying above him and looping around him slowly, always keeping her belly facing him. When she is below him, Brent kicks his plane up into a snap loop, bringing him around 180 degrees and flying the other way, upside down, looking down at Saphyra's head. Both of them corkscrew turn, seeming to twist around each other as they fly, and then, finally, breaking apart a final time. Ground ops put the applause from this display in thru their comms so they can hear the crowd's appreciation. The theme from Saving Private Ryan starts playing as he and Saphyra come around in formation, falling in behind and catching up to one of the F-16s from the Thunderbirds flying slowly with an old P-51 Mustang. Both form into formation with the others, so from the ground the P-51 is in the center, with an F-16 to the left and the SF-22 to the right, and Saphyra above them all. Three passes over the crowd for pictures, and then they split off, and Brent and Saphyra are able to land.

Brent sighs as he sits down, drinking some water, Saphyra sitting across from him. "Well, it's not quite a mating dance, but it'll do." She says. Brent shoots her a smirk.

"As if the wedding ceremony wasn't enough." He says with a sly smile. "And the reception afterwards, where we shared our first dance." That makes Saphyra blush. She had been so aroused then it was amazing all the males in the room hadn't pounced her. And the dance had been perfectly wonderful. Brent simply shakes his head at her suddenly star struck expression.

The next day goes pretty much the same. Brent and Saphyra are sitting down in the hangar after their flight and drinking, watching a stunt plane do his tumbling. "You know..." Brent says. "It never ceases to amaze me how stupid those stunt plane fliers are."

Saphyra looks at the plane as it tumbles a good fifty feet and then recovers, pulls out in a slow arc and comes back up at high speed and does two loops. "How so?" She asks.

Brent flicks his hand. "Look, doing all those rolls and loops, that's fine, but when he does that..." He points as the little red plane skyrockets up, then stalls, hangs there, then tips over. "...I have to question his sanity. Who in their right mind would stall out a plane? If his engine were to stall while he was doin' that, he'd be screwed!"

Saphyra nods. She has to agree with it. "I guess people watch them for the same reason you watch NASCAR, beloved. You are waiting to see the accident." Saphyra blinks and looks around, people are suddenly running, franticly picking things up and rushing outside.

"Yeah..." Brent says, also noticing the activity. A bright flash from outside draws his attention back to the window, where the stunt plane had just exploded. "What the..." He says, and before anyone can react, sirens start blaring all over, but not ambulance sirens, air raid sirens. The crowd is bolting now, everyone going in the same general direction, towards the heavy concrete building behind them. Crews are rushing thru the crowds, pushing people aside, the anti aircraft guns readying, even as a strange fighter with backswept triangular wings flies overhead. It fires at another stunt plane that was in the air, missing as the pilot dives quickly. The bolts were blue. Now Brent and Saphyra are running thru the hangar, Brent's plane being loaded with missiles. Saphyra quickly gets on her armor and shifts up, the armor moving with her. She leaves the hangar as the strange fighter comes back around, intent on finishing the stunt man. A blast from her mouth tears thru the sky, the blue energy missing the stunt plane by a good twenty feet, but catching the unknown fighter right in the middle, exploding the craft and its pilot before he even knew he was being shot at.

Saphyra looks to her right, over where the city is. Explosions are starting to happen above the city, and smoke plumes are already coming up from the horizon as Brent taxies to the runway with three other fighters, F-16s, these not the Thunderbird's atmospheric planes, but the retrofitted F-16s meant to fly into space. As the planes taxi towards the runway, getting into groups of three, more unknown craft appear overhead, coming from the city. "They are elven!" Saphyra calls out, on all circuits, and takes off, firing a blast that separates the formation flying overhead. Now the air show's anti aircraft guns are joining in, taking aim and firing, tracers reaching into the sky, one set intercepting a fighter, pumping three holes in its wing and causing it to cartwheel out of control, impacting the ground and exploding brilliantly.

"Take off in threes." Brent orders, and pushes his fighter into the air at full afterburner with two F-16s right with him, another three coming up after. In a half a minute, all the fighters are in the air, and the local defenders are getting up, missiles arching up into the sky, Brent following one in with his eyes as it homes in on a fighter that has already started turning to evade. Brent doesn't see any flares or chaff come out as he expected, the fighter makes a sharp turn, which the missile, being more agile, cuts off at the corner, impacting and exploding right on the fighter's rear quarter, the explosion tearing the engines out, causing the fighter itself to ignite and detonate in the air. Brent takes a shot with one of his own missiles and watches it trace after a turning elven fighter, it too exploding.

"Beloved, the elves have not encountered missile systems before." She says over comm link, letting the others know. "They have no defense against them." Brent grins, getting a lock and firing two missiles off, turning to avoid shots from another fighter, which is hit broadside by a SAM. Two more explosions announce the deaths of the two fighters that were after him, and a third as one of the F-16s explodes, hit by a plasma pulse from an elf. Saphyra takes care of that one with a blast from her jaws and suddenly the skies are clear.

"Fighter Squadron." The air boss speaks up. "You are under the command of Razgriz, that's Major Davis, for the fighter planes and Saphyra, the other Major Davis, for the dragons. Snap to vector 010 and climb, prepare for high altitude warfare. Civilians are all in the bunkers. Good hunting." Brent sends off an acknowledgement as he climbs, four other fighters forming up around him, all that's left of the thunderbirds, and Saphyra is joined by three other celestials.

Their cockpit interfaces flicker over. "Incoming' feed." Brent's temporary number two pipes up, and a feed from the local news pops up.

The view is in space, heading towards Earth, flying over one of the human carriers, a long smooth ship with an abrupt end at the tip where fighters launch, turrets rotating. "We have no idea what's happening." A female voice chimes in. "It's happening so suddenly, camera's are moving..." She stops dead as the cameras crest the carrier and start heading down, as suddenly it looks like something from Star Wars. Explosions are popping up everywhere in space as ships in every position shoot at each other, the elven craft easily identifiable; they look like something from an anime. The human ships are blocky and a little bulky, and are firing out streams of railgun shells, glowing orange yellow in the backdrop of the blue planet beneath. They were fighting over the Atlantic Ocean. The cameras get in and amongst the fighting, the elven ships firing off blue darts that hit and cause small detonations on the human ships. The camera zooms past one, a battleship, firing off its large railguns at an elven cruiser, causing massive damage to the ship, which is nowhere near able to respond, then a bright orange beam of light, a phaser beam, stabs out from the battleship, cutting into the cruiser's hull. Two dragons fly past the camera with two F22s flying with them, missiles arching out from their hulls and impacting two fighters. The dragons fire off a beam each at the cruiser, exploding its engine section. The camera keeps its focus on the cruiser as explosions quickly march up the ship, blowing it apart.

"Eyes up, thunderbirds." Brent says. "I have visual on the battle." He says. Straight ahead from them, several lines and blobs are firing at each other in a multicolored conglomerate that might have even been pretty if people weren't dying. Brent pushes it up to full speed and rushes at the battle, everyone keeping pace, and calls over the comms. "This is Major Davis, both of them, calling fleet, we are inbound with thunderbird flight, four Foxtrot one sixes, and other local defense forces." He says, for a quick look at his scanner showed three F-15 squadrons, his own Rogue squadron, and three dragon squads coming up. The Rogues quickly form up around him and the thunderbirds with their dragons joining Saphyra.

"Roger, local defenses, engage hostiles around the Caroline. She's taking a beating." Red flips camera views, something made available via the camera bots all around the battlefield now for the press, and finds the Caroline. Another cruiser firing on its exposed left side while on the right it trades fire with an elven battleship, phaser fire cracking out from it while blue bolts, larger and more powerful than the standard ones, slams back into it. Fighters are everywhere.

"Fighters, spread out and swarm in, target their fighters, Saphyra, we're taking on the cruiser." He gets an acknowledge.

"Boss, active camera on our tail." One of the Rogues reports. Red looks at his sensors, sure enough, there's one, and it's transmitting. He smirks and puts it out of his mind, more important things...

The fighters come in against a greater number of elven fighters, the battleship's screen alerted and moving to intercept. However, the humans have the advantage, launching missiles from maximum range, the missiles streaking in at Mach 5. Many elves just barely saw some of the missiles and had banked their ships before they were hit, and then the fighters from the planet were on them, mixing it up with now even numbers, the Rogues and the dragons breaking thru. The dragons cluster around Saphyra as she heads for the cruiser, only two F22s guarding them. Six elven fighters swoop in at them from the cruiser, and four from behind. One of the F22s veers off and goes after the four. The last one left has the lead marks on him. Four missiles leap from his fighter, all of them finding a target. He hits the last one with guns, exploding it with several rounds from his cannon, and then he swoops after the last, exploding him with another cannon burst, the small camera, almost imperceptible being the size of a pencil, following it. Then the dragons come in, swooping over the cruiser, blasting it at close range with their beams, turrets on their armor cracking away at the ship, leaving it exploding in their wake.

The dragons then turn, swarming over the battleship as it fires upon its elven counterpart. The human ship was losing, but suddenly, with the unexpected appearance of the dragons all around it, the elves are badly outmatched. It angles upwards and, as the first beams from the dragons start impacting and weakening its shields, it seems to stretch out as it warps away, disappearing with a bright flash in the distance as it breaks the light barrier.

"Warning! Warning! Another enemy fleet has been detected, two five ships, three of them dreadnaughts. NORAD has begun launch procedures." A voice comes over the radio. The other fleet was pretty far off, even at the speed ships travel at. They wouldn't risk the higher cruising speeds because it would leave their shields and weapons underpowered when battle is met. The rest of the elven ships who were engaging the battle group the humans had orbiting the planet were falling back at their full speed, making their numbers a full thirty. Brent gulps, then blinks and stares. Several bright dots are coming up from the planet's surface. "NUKES!" he yells out. "Everyone get behind a ship!" He calls out, and makes a quick turn.

The first missile hits dead center on a dreadnaught, the energy from the explosion overwhelming the ship's shields and completely annihilating the center of the massive ship, and several of the escorts nearby. The other missiles launched from the surface seeking out the other dreadnaughts and battleships, each now turning for a clean line out of orbit and to warp. The next nuke slams broadside into another dreadnaught, having the same effects. The explosion fades and half an elven battleship is seen floating in a deteriorating orbit. The dreadnaught is gone. The third dreadnaught fires on the missile heading its way, detonating it early, but the explosion is powerful, ripping thru all of its escorts planetside, the EMP wreaking havoc on its electronics, disabling the ship. The escorts on the other side of the ship warp away, but two escorts were disabled and a cruiser was tumbling in space, too close to the explosion to escape undamaged, too far to be outright destroyed, the exposed half leaking oxygen into space, and elven crewmen.

A lone human ship rushes out and does a flyby past the ships at full speed. No fire comes out at it. The rest of the fleet closes in, and boarding parties immediately begin shuttling over, tractor lines attached to the ships to keep them from turning into crash orbits. All the fighters begin returning to base to rearm. This day was just getting started.