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The Withered Spring Gorge was once referred to as the Lifespring Valley by Flamewing's parents, teeming with prey, home to hundreds and hundreds of dragons.

Until the summer's scorch caused the spring to dry up, and the prey fled to better, richer pastures, and before the Terrestrial Tyrant--or Tyrantus, as Flamewing addressed him in her head--claimed this desolate landscape for himself. Not through conquest, or inheritance, but simply because no worthy alpha wanted to live on barren land.

Were it not for the heat that bubbled beneath the surface of her genital slit, Flamewing would have challenged him today. Many of the dragons gathered here, with their bowed heads and scant prey clutched between trembling, terrified fangs, wouldn't--or maybe their subservience ran so deep, they simply couldn't--see Tyrantus for what he was, but she did.

After she endured through the end of a scalding summer and survived through autumn on rodents and fish alone, Flamewing had sat in her neat row enough times for her courage to strengthen. She had watched Tyrantus stroke himself or mount his paw pads while licking the nethers of his petite mates so often, that she was certain this Terrestrial Tyrant was anything but that. A Rumbling Runt, more like, using his size and strength and demeanor to intimidate every dragon into doing his bidding.

So, the females thrived on the feasts Tyrantus provided them with whenever one of them went into heat, while the males tirelessly competed against each other for the best catch, lest they faced the wrath of their resident overlord. Although every female's heat landed at a different time, Tyrantus needed daily sustenance, and with more than one hundred dragons living on his land, lunch simply required him to accept the humble offerings of his charges or punish them for it, depending on his mood.

Today, he was in a pensive mood, barely paying attention to the dragons stepping out of their row one at a time to place their catch on one of the several bundles of aromatic leaves. He only used to sort the meat during the celebratory feast accompanying a female's heat, but ever since autumn began, more and more females began to moisten between the haunches, so habit became custom.

Perhaps, this way, he wouldn't notice Flamewing's scent. Maybe, just maybe, he might be distracted enough to simply take his share and leave his subjects split the food between themselves.

Then again, that had only happened twice, and only because other young alphas encroached upon his territory before turning their minds to better prospects.

The Withered Spring Gorge was the only empty expanse wide enough to accommodate this daily procession that took place right after the sun reached its zenith. Two rows, one for males, one for females, shrunk bit by bit as each dragon presented their offering to their alpha. The bigger it was, the higher the chances to walk to the edge of the valley or fly on the cliffs to avoid the delayed wrath of the Rumbling Runt. Devoid of wings, their so-called protector couldn't even reach the flying dragons perched up top without running all the way around, yet it was his venerable species that commanded respect, not the dark spines growing along his neck and back, or the spiky end of his tail, or his frills that could flare to impressive size.

The presence of an alpha was always associated with order and security from others of his station, which the Rumbling Runt provided in his own juvenile, twisted ways. His scent markings warded off the rest of his kin, and order in his colony was dictated by one's gender. Flamewing had but glance at the plump gronckle ahead, or at the healthy, smug, lively nadder behind to see the stark differences compared to the line of scrawny, feeble males to her right.

Several dozen wing lengths used to separate them in the past, but now, the males were just a couple of wingbeats away. With no opponents of his size to vent his frustrations on, he seemed to do everything in his power to lure a male into a conflict that they would not come out of alive.

Flamewing looked away from the Razorwhip, windstriker, slithersong and the only other nightfury in the colony, a male with sable colored claws, Sableclaw. She couldn't pity him and focus on her predicament both. Although curiosity often nudged her to at least approach him, logic urged her to keep as much distance from him as possible. With Tyrantus considering each and every female in his colony a mate of his, the association with a male--even one of her species--posed grave threats to Flamewing. Besides, he already found himself a fawn compared to her petty fish, so Tyrantus wouldn't scold him today. In fact, he might even let him keep a haunch.

Low growls from behind attracted Flamewing's attention. The boisterous Nadder who kept staring and sniffing Flamewing's folds, eager at the prospect of a feast, traded her place with Bluehaunch, a windwalker and the only female with which Flamewing shared a connection. She immediately sought to trade her hare for Flamewing's fish, nuzzling her neck encouragingly to accept the trade, to spare herself the humiliation of being mated by the Runt's tongue, or perhaps the pain, should he decide to probe at her dainty opening with his tapered, barbed, and surprisingly thick tip. When Flamewing refused to relent to Bluehaunch's judgment, the windwalker lowered her quarry on the parched earth, sneaking her long, red, angular snout between Flamewing's haunches.

The female nightfury bit down harder on the fish, teeth puncturing the scales. Warm, electrifying tingles raced through her slick, puffy folds as Bluehaunch's long, tapered tongue washed away the traces of translucent slime clinging to her blue-gray underbelly scales. Every time it graced the inner surface of her lips, Flamewing tensed up, tremors quaking her wings and limbs, claws digging into the ground for purchase, lest her balance wavered.

Her heart racing in her chest due to these potent and outlandish sensations, Flamewing spat the fish out of her maw, twisting her neck to snarl and growl at the nonchalant windwalker. Although the nightfury tried her best to flash her menacing teeth, they immediately fled back into their sheaths, Flamewing's eyes screwing shut when Bluehaunch inserted the tip of her tongue through her taut, virgin folds. Flamewing's haunches instinctively bent forward, squatting halfway to the ground as if to make her water. The sensation felt similar, yet different at the same time, raw and demanding.

Upon noticing the spasms traversing Flamewing's folds, Bluehaunch sank her tongue back into her maw, blessed respite filling Flamewing, her mind clearing off that overpowering, debilitating feeling in which she almost drowned. Her tail immediately draped over her sex, tail fins folding inward to put a second barrier between that highly vulnerable spot and Bluehaunch's soggy snout tip.

She understood what her friend tried to achieve, yet Flamewing had spent the whole night cleaning herself, only for more of that thin, aqueous, transparent goo to flow from between her folds. To thank Bluehaunch for her quick initiative, Flamewing turned around to rub cheeks with her, purring under the soft, reassuring tongue strokes of the windwalker.

Being the bigger, stronger, and more capable hunter of the two, Bluehaunch had always provided Flamewing with a meal when she failed to procure hers. Even now, her long, mighty wings crossed around Flamewing, encasing her in a cocoon of solitude that she sorely needed.

"Reh!" she spat a gust of steam at the nadder whose spiky ends of her wing brushed against the red scales of her side. Confident that her piglet might earn her a grooming from Tyrantus, the nadder took Flamewing's place in line, leaving her and Bluehaunch as the last dragons to present their quarry, and perhaps last to eat, should the other females complain too vocally about the wait.

Intent on reclaiming her spot in the queue and punish the arrogant brat for seizing an advantage in such dirty way, Flamewing brushed past the confines of Bluehaunch's wing, snarling her challenge at the nadder. The bone-white spikes crowning the cobalt-colored top of its head shot upwards at the challenge, spines unfurling one by one along its yellow-ringed tail. The other females and males alike tensed up at first, yet they all furled their wings tighter against their sides and tightened their rows, almost bumping into each other in their attempt to make themselves as oblivious to the conflict as possible. Whenever two dragons quarreled, Tyrantus decided the winner, as well as the punishment for either one or all of the dragons involved.

Bluehaunch wove around Flamewing, placing herself between her and the nadder, pushing against her shoulder to urge her to back down, licking at her neck soothingly. The nadder squeaked and squawked in amusement, fluttering its rust-mottled golden wings, wagging her tail to flaunt the spines that instilled fear is not only one, but two females.

It took all of Flamewing's self-control to restrain herself from blasting that smug, confident snarl off the nadder's face. She had thrashed plenty of males and females, during and before her arrival in this territory. Already a victor in her mind, she relented to Bluehaunch's wisdom, releasing her pent-up breath and leaning her head against the cream-colored underside of her neck.

"Mrrrh," she grumbled, upset at being the last in her line, annoyed with her heat, and downright angry at the possibility of the Rumbling rung discovering and exploiting the vulnerability residing under her tail for his deplorable pleasures.

Bluehaunch settled onto her haunches, so that she could put her spindly blue toes to work on removing the tension settled into Flamewing's lower neck and shoulders, crooning comfortingly. Although slightly shorter than Flamewing, Bluehaunch had a longer body, with a row of purple with blue spines decorating her back, all the way to her tapered tail tip. They also embellished her thin, serpentine neck, and the nose horn tipped with the same blue was as sharp and dangerous as it was gentle with the dragons Bluehaunch cherished.

The top of her wings was colored a rich violet that acquired reddish hues towards the extremities, similar to the shade that tinted most of her body's scales. Their color faded into pink on her lower sides, shifting to a cream color on the underside of her neck and belly. Compared to faded blues and greys of Flamewing's body, Bluehaunch looked beautiful, mostly in part to the blue nuances the scales on her paws and haunches bore.

Flamewing had always found that particular coloring attractive, yet not more so than Bluehaunch's golden eyes that always seemed to harbor kindness and affection for every dragon that understood the merit of restraint.

Her temper cooled down, Flamewing rewarded her friend with several licks across her snout, both dragons crooning and delighting in the bond they shared, Flamewing more so than her companion. Bluehaunch cared for many a female, and sometimes offered her benevolence to males as well, heedless of the risk that posed for her. Flamewing, however, understood and accepted her limits. Barely able to fend for herself, she found it impossible--foolish, even--to trade her only privilege in the colony to aid another dragon that might never repay her in kind.

The shift in Bluehaunch's pleasant purr ended Flamewing's moment of relaxation. Her paws fled her back as she shifted in the direction of the male column, her sprawling wings and tense neck spines putting Flamewing on guard as well. She stepped to the side of the windwalker's wing...

And immediately crouched low to the ground, hissing her one and only threat at the male nightfury who somehow summoned the audacity to leave his spot for whatever imprudent reasons pushed him to such asinine actions.

Her heat. It had to be her heat. Flamewing noticed the pushed between his legs, the fins fanned out to undoubtedly mask the emergence of his malehood. He might have kept the ridges of his spine flat and folded and his gaze low, yet humbleness did little to hide his obvious lust for a female of his kind.

How utterly pathetic of him.

Were it not for Bluehaunch's frame blocking her view, she would have taken a shot straight between his legs, at that prize he so desperately tried to conceal. The Windwalker first attempted to dissuade Sableclaw with low growls, buffeting wings and light tail lashes across his forelimbs, but the male endured through them, shifting this way and that, trying to reach Flamewing.

Eager for the fight previously denied to her, Flamewing stepped out of Bluehaunch's protection. As soon as that happened, Sableclaw discarded his quarry with an audible thump, pushing it towards her with both forepaws, crooning with a certain urgency that puzzled Flamewing.

He wanted her to accept it? To lift her tail for one single catch that wouldn't even be hers in a couple of moments? She ought to have pounced him and dig her teeth into that plump neck of his in order to drive sense into the desperate male, but panic addled her logic, and instead, she added her forepaws to the fawn as well, pushing it right back.

It was Bluehaunch that put an end to their squabble, sweeping in to claim the fawn for herself, coiling around it to hide it from the heads that began to turn towards them. Male or female, any dragon would have fought tooth and tail to reclaim their lost prize, but Sableclaw whined softly, pointing her muzzle at her hindquarters, then jutting his tail towards Bluehaunch.

Unable to make sense of his erratic behavior, Flamewing circled the male, tail raised menacingly, her patience thinned by dragons who constantly sought to remind her of her lesser place in this colony. Yes, she despised their alpha, unlike the nadder who wanted to rush into his embrace. True, Sableclaw had the better eyes for spotting game. But Flamewing...Flamewing had experience on her side that none of these whelplings seemed to possess.

Once again, Bluehaunch's wisdom triumphed over raw instinct. Through nuzzles, growls and gestures, she explained to her what Sableclaw tried to achieve. Her heat concerned him as much as it did her, and he had been together with her in this valley enough times to understand her personality, that of a fighter who still clung onto their dignity. Therefore, he wanted to bestow her with his fawn, so that Tyrantus would be impressed enough with her catch that he might just overlook her heat.

After all, he so delighted in the flesh of deer, a rarity in his barren territory.

Her task done, the windwalker stepped away from Flamewing, leaving the burden of choice upon her alone. Her cautious, concerned gaze hinted at Bluehaunch's feelings on this matter. As a fellow female, she greatly preferred that Flamewing accepted Sableclaw's ploy. Tyrantus might not inflict himself upon her today, but as her heat developed, so did his cravings, until the lonely male would easily forsake the female's comfort in exchange for that sweet release.

To make matters easier for Flamewing, Bluehaunch offered her hare in exchange for Sableclaw's fawn, but the nightfury hummed his gratitude for her initiative, choosing Flamewing's fish over her catch, dashing back to his spot without even waiting on Flamewing's decision.

"Hrrrrrrrh," came the female's smoldering growl at his impertinence. Much as she appreciated his idea and the weight the fawn lifted off her heart and wings, Flamewing detested having others choose for her, especially when it was a male. That wouldn't change her resolve on this matter. She'd still avoid him just as much as before, perhaps even more so, now that the cause for his sudden act of kindness revealed itself to her.

Once he made it back in his queue, Sableclaw straightened his wings, tail and neck, shrugging off the taunts and crude enjoyment of the other males at how he disgraced himself. The razorwhip sneaked his tail under Sableclaw's belly, attempting to poke and prod at his erect member with the spiny tip. The nightfury proved to agile for him, however, so the windstriker and the slithersong turned on him instead. They nipped at his wings, whipped their tails across his haunches, all because he proved himself weaker than his victim, and therefore worthy of humiliation.

Even with his malehood out of its protective sanctuary, Sableclaw still stepped in to put a stop to the charade. He coiled his tail around one of the windstriker's spindly legs, jerking it with enough force to send the surprised dragon crashing on his side. In the same time span, he did the same to the slithersong, showing them just how useless their short arms were when it came to maintaining their balance. His intervention caused the razorback to churr lowly and dip his head low to the ground, acknowledging Sableclaw's superiority. The other two dragons did the same, readily forsaking their pride in favor of gaining a possible, future ally.

To Flamewing, that only served to show just how desperate the dragons of the Withered Spring Gorge became. Although their instinct drove them to competition, a single failure was enough to turn them into obedient sheep, terrified by the prospect of future defeats.

Flamewing caught another glimpse of his member before he settled on his haunches, once again hiding it from view. The sight of it made her scales shudder, foul memories of rumbling, moaning, roaring Tyrantus filling her mind. Did Sableclaw resort to similar means to flush his seed out of his body? Or perhaps...worse? What if he unloaded the burden of his mating instincts into an unwilling female? Would she be able to fend him off, should he try the same with her?

The female nightfury shook her head to disperse these irrational fears. Not every male succumbed to their need to breed like Tyrantus did, and the females of the colony were smart enough to use their privileged position to direct Tyrantus' wrath at their assailants, should their own strength falter. Or so Flamewing hoped, for if defeated and forcefully filled with seed by a male of her species, Flamewing would do the same if the incident happened during her heat.

This last vile revelation instilled a chill into her muscles, nudging her into seeking the warm shelter of Bluehaunch's wings. Her revolting heat seemed to bring out the worst in her, conjuring her greatest fears and forcing her to find answers to them, each of them painting her as a creature no better than her alpha. With the number of dragons shrinking ahead, Flamewing pushed Bluehaunch's snout further down her flank with her muzzle, lifting a hind leg and warbling shyly to request her aid once again for a task she detested doing herself.

Ever kind and gentle, Bluehaunch softly pushed Flamewing's haunch down with a forepaw, making it known to her that her elongated snout allowed her easy access between her legs. The nightfury followed through with her request, lifting her tail to expose that splotch of slitted, blushing flesh, her claws hooking into the ground, breath hardening in anticipation.

"Mrrrrrh," Flamewing half purred, half rumbled, dipping her head behind a wing to hide her instinctive snarls and hisses of delight. She didn't want to succumb to this weakness of her gender that she loathed with every fiber of her being, but her instinct overpowered her, forcing her to cower beneath her wing as she savored every tongue stroke more than she should have.

Bluehaunch also took notice of her whines and whimpers, sneaking the blue, two-pronged tip of her tongue between her lips, past them, filling her soggy, scalding depths with the smooth surface of her taut appendage.

Flamewing's haunches bucked against her snout out of their own accord, rubbing her folds against her nose horns, humming her relief at how its surface scratched away some of her demanding itch. She did it a second time, and a third, pushing harder against Bluehaunch's' snout, craving for more of her tongue.

"Rllllh," the windwalker warbled, retreating from between her haunches, pointing her tail at the few dragons left in their respective rows.

Flamewing shook her head to clear it, just as Bluehaunch swept her tongue across her sex to wipe as much of her heat as possible before she placed her forepaws on Flamewing's haunches, rubbing her slowly, soothingly, easing her into her impending predicament.

With the bigger, prouder dragons gone from their respective lines, Flamewing had a clear view of Tyrantus, just like his golden eyes had access to hers. She trembled at the sight of his thin, slit-shaped pupils, struck by a pang of cold, debilitating dread. Did he know? Could he know? He seldom pulled females out of their line to drink their heat, yet during the few times it happened, he had smelled their alluring miasma across the entire valley.

Today, however, he seemed more apathetic and disinterested in the offerings, blinking his gratitude and calling each dragon forward with a flick of his tail. Were it not for his sheer size that towered above every dragon and the menacing spikes adorning his back, elbows and tail tip, no dragon in the valley would have obeyed the Terrestrial Tyrant, alpha or not.

He bore the dull color of earth, the least desired amongst every dragon. Flames of a darker shade spread across his eye ridges and engulfed the inferior half of his legs, turning them a dark brown that accentuated the pink frailty of his meaty paw pads. Tyrantus lounged on his side, the black claws tipping the three toes of his hind paws perfectly still but for the shorter one of his side toe that twitched every now and then. Flamewing found it strange that his paws had a side toe, as if his runty species was meant to clutch their malehood in their paws and spill their seed across their pads, ever unworthy of a female.

The spikes crowning his head, embellishing the end of his cheeks, and jutting from the plate-like scales of his back varied in length and thickness, their black color more menacing than their appearance. Most dragons ended their enemies with a bite to the lower portion of their neck, and Tyrantus' small, soft, sandy-colored scales provided little protection against that obvious threat. In a way, his features described him perfectly: Menacing only from afar.

The Nadder's turn arrived. Without even waiting for Tyrantus' cue, she placed the piglet together with the fish, ignoring his sorting preference, eager to bask in his affection. She must have considered herself privileged to ignore his rules and still receive his tongue on every part of her body, as if his preferences for females wasn't mighty obvious by now. She even rolled onto her side, lifting a leg to invite his flared nostrils upon her femininity, churring so loud even the alpha found her inflated enthusiasm tiresome.

Nevertheless, he still sniffed and probed at her underbelly with the tip of his tongue, his malehood growing halfway, the ridges lining the base of his thick rod of crimson meat swelling halfway after they spilled out of his genital slit. The flare of his tip, as well as the nubs of flesh running across the top and bottom of his shaft, remained flaccid, denoting his lack of energy for that type of exertion.

The Nadder immediately rolled onto her feet at that, striding to his member that reached past her chest, licking at the tip with fast, hungry strokes, desperate to hear him roar for her and her alone. Tyrantus, however, shifted a protective hind paw over his tip, gently pushing the nadder away with his great snout, rumbling his gratitude for her initiative, yet refusing it all the same.

Bluehaunch noted the opportunity before Flamewing did. She hummed and crooned, pushing the fawn in front of her snout, pushing against her haunch with her snout horn. Heart hammering at her chest, the nightfury seized Sableclaw's quarry, its weight and size foreign to her jaws, causing her to stumble forward. Tyrantus noticed her struggles too, singling her out with his tail tip.

"Rrrrrf," he called to her, lifting every single one of the Nadder's spikes in the process. She glided from Tyrantus' side down to meet Flamewing with snarls and hisses, which the nightfury ignored on her way to her alpha, whose patience was far thinner than hers.

He pushed himself onto his fours far quicker than could be expected from such lumbering beast, basking the Nadder under his shadow, inching her snout closer to her to meet her sagged gaze with bare, serrated teeth. With that conflict snuffed out, his demeanor immediately changed, growl shifting into a deep purr, tapered tongue swishing across his snout at the sight of the savory morsel Flamewing carried.

Despite his craving for deer flesh, he pointed a claw to the pile of hoofed carcasses, delaying his feast until every offering made its way into his piles, yet not his reward for the one who provided him with such rare boon.

He invited Flamewing between his forepaws, slowly and gently enclosing them around her sides, cupping her between his smooth, soft pads, gently rubbing his great snout against her petite one. He also tried a lick at which Flamewing flinched, terrified that his tongue might reach the source of her heat. Tyrantus took notice of her discomfort, however, apologizing with a soft rumble before releasing her, nuzzling her side one last time.

The gronckle female should have been next, but Tyrantus' tail swung left, to the male column instead, inviting Sableclaw forward with a glare and a snarl. The male hesitated for a second, suddenly aware of the pitiful offering he clutched between his teeth. Nevertheless, he rushed to place the fish amongst the rest of its kind, his head so low it almost grazed the ground on the way to Tyrantus.

"Mriiiih," he started to beg for forgiveness, only for his plea to cut short as Tyrantus swept him in a forepaw, slamming him on the ground before him. He trapped him between his forefinger and thumb, with his rear facing Tyrantus, so that the alpha could grab his tail between his fangs and lift it in order to expose his even slit and tight, puckered flesh. He aimed one of his claws at the latter, the sharp tip inching closer and closer to it, the tyrant unfazed by Sableclaw's whimpers, wriggling haunches and jerking tail.

An irrational, overpowering sense of guilt pushed Flamewing forward, the nightfury female jumping over the neatly arranged piles of savory prey, augmenting her height with a few flaps of her wings that carried her straight in front of Tyrantus' horned, angular, imposing muzzle. With a swift, decisive twist, she presented her second, most precious of offerings to him, one that he wouldn't simply thank her for with a mere lick across her snout.

The wingless alpha settled his massive paw down, sparing Sableclaw of his torment. His four, elongated toes almost reached her shoulder in height, equipped with pink, meaty pads as thick as her forearms, their length matching hers from head to tail fins. His dark, scythe-like claws tapped at the parched ground beneath them while he breathed in her heat hungrily, a deep, thunderous purr igniting in his throat. His shorter, stubby side toe lifted off Sableclaw's back, and when the male lingered despite earning his freedom, Tyrantus' paw swatted him away as if he was a fly, all so that he could dedicate his full attention to the ripest, greatest of gifts a female could bestow him with.

His nostrils flared and shuddered visibly with every deep breath he took, tremors wracking his body, all of his limbs and toes growing taut with purpose. Mighty throbs rushed through his member, forcing it to full mast in but a couple of heartbeats, the flare of his tip swelling, his ridges growing tense, the nubs lining the top and bottom of his shaft perking up with great enthusiasm.

Tyrantus adjusted his position, fully splaying onto his side, so that his forepaws could reach the top half of his member while his hind paws balanced the rest of it. With quick, accurate, practiced ease, he eased his member against his left hind paw while the right one curled around the base, stroking and kneading at the ridges slowly, teasingly. His lips began to twitch and shudder as his growl deepened, becoming harsher, more primal now that he succumbed to his lust.

Flamewing yelped, her wings folding tighter to her back when his nostrils practically slammed against her hindquarters, the tapered tip of his tongue invading her silken crevice without even cleaning her, like Bluehaunch had done.

Both of the dragons roared in unison, Flamewing's sharp shrill dwarfed by Tyrantus' reverberating roar. He remained inside her, savoring the way her muscles contracted and relaxed around his sensitive appendage, wriggling it back and forth inside her to force the honey out of her.

The rapid movements of his tongue tip stole the female's breath away, her haunches melting against Tyrantus' snout, mind-addling pleasure the likes of which she had never known paralyzing her frame. A vertigo engulfed her, shuttering her eyes as she reeled from side to side, her tail trembling in unison with the spasms that pushed the essence of her heat out of her body.

Tyrantus' purr flared ever brighter with each splash of Flamewing's climax over his tongue and snout. He lapped at it hungrily, his paws working his ridges, nubs and flared tip faster with every droplet of her honey he swallowed. These were the only moments of respite Flamewing had, for Tyrantus always returned for more, probing for her slit, thrusting inside it, then swirling his tongue until the same debilitating bliss seized control over Flamewing's muscles, forcing her to yowl and whimper while she betrayed the essence of her very being to the ravenous alpha.

At the third climax, the nightfury collapsed on her side, her limbs weak, useless, and unresponsive before that tide of unbridled pleasure. After putting his tongue in almost every female of his colony, Tyrantus knew how to abuse the weakness of the flesh, how to force Flamewing's body to turn against her from the sheer might of the stimulation inflicted upon her. Her virgin, untested depths stood no chance against Tyrantus' knowing tongue tip, forcing her to spend the few breaths she managed to inhale in the form of hoarse, thin, shuddering yowls.

After the fourth climax, the intoxicating high in which Tyrantus entrapped her lessened just enough for her teary eyes to crack open. She still tensed up, yelped and moaned in delight when Tyrantus twirled his tongue inside her, yet the alpha's control began to dwindle, his purr lowering into a growl. His whole body convulsed, both forepaws cupping his tip, the toes of his hind paws tightening around his nubs and ridges. Tyrantus swept his head towards the sky, unleashing his earsplitting roar over the valley in unison with the wild thrust of his hindquarters that pushed his flared tip deep between the soft pads of his forepaws.

Thick, white, gooey seed burst forth from between his toes, the rapid shudders wracking his length painting the entirety of his paws and underbelly with the wan color of utter abandon. Once his passion was expended, Tyrantus let go of his spent member to sprawl his long, serpentine neck on the ground, heavy breaths fleeing his nostrils, eyes half shuttered in fulfillment.

"Rrrrrhhhhh," he rumbled his affection for Flamewing, trudging his snout closer to her, so that he could nuzzle and lick at her belly. The nightfury let out soft, tired squeaks, his tongue tip quite ticklish against her soft, underbelly scales. She gripped at it playfully, mindlessly, her frame numb, her mind blank, now that her senses finally returned to her. After experiencing such potent ecstasy, everything felt dull and pointless by comparison, and Tyrantus, for all his flaws, had succeeded in purging that pressing need from between her haunches. She felt light, unburdened by instinct, free to bask in all the other pleasure life offered.

Yet, as Tyrantus' paws crashed on the ground, so did the truth of her situation. As an alpha, he didn't even have to roar, growl, or flick his tail anymore. All that Tyrantus had to do was expose the seed-laden pads of his paws to the males, and they all bounded forward to fulfill their main duty.

That of cleaning every trace of his lust off his pads and scales while the females gorged themselves on every morsel they fancied. Just as all the males in the valley converged upon Tyrantus' paws and belly, so did the females dash, glide, or dove upon the area surrounding the offerings, every dragon in the valley rushing to this one final task of the day.

To eat meat or seed, depending on their gender.

With Flamewing being the privileged female for today, she had the boon of choosing everything she wanted to eat and hoard it for herself before the rest of the females tucked in. Tyrantus, too, nuzzled her forward, purring in glee, urging her to savor his generosity. She timidly walked to the piles of carcasses, singling out the fawn, the nadder's piglet to punish her for her insolence, and the fish she originally caught, all so that she could feed Bluehaunch.

The Nadder flared her spikes, shifted her wings, and tapped her claws menacingly at Flamewing, well aware that even a yelp could get her exiled from the colony. Upon noticing the difficulties Flamewing had at taking turns with her spoils, Bluehaunch broke through the rows of dragons, baring her teeth at the nadder, ready to forfeit her life if it meant protecting Flamewing from her viciousness. Together, the two moved their food behind a boulder, where Flamewing tore into the fawn and lifted her bloodied snout to announce the start of the feast. Tyrantus' eyes held hers, his features stern, his commanding growl keeping the dragons orderly.

When it finally died in his throat, shrieks, shrills, roars and screeches echoed through the valley, the females taunting and threatening each other over their food while the males silently crowded around Tyrantus to lick away the product of the loneliness. Flamewing barely registered Bluehaunch's croon, or the gentle nuzzles that urged her to look away from the mayhem. The gronckle devoured her way through the pile of small fish that few dragons favored, while the zippleback ate from two different carcasses at the same time, claiming ownership over them both.

And at the front, licking away at the tip of one of Tyrantus' claws, was Sableclaw. One of the best and most successful hunters in the colony licked and swallowed Tyrantus' vile slime while the quarry that was rightfully his sat beside Flamewing, who had caught but a fish.

"Reh," she squawked to Bluehaunch, relinquishing her food to her, taking to the skies to rid herself of this strange and terrible guilt that turned her stomach.

END OF CHAPTER 1(Read chapter 2 here: https://www.sofurry.com/view/1349820 )

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