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Chapter description: Surodar falls prey to the intoxicating life of a newly mated dragon. His love for Sarathra begins to run deep, and by now, his seed must have already quickened into her womb. Surodar's utopian life comes to a jarring halt when envoys from his town, Karad's Rest, come to inquire about Naya's whereabouts, reminding Surodar once again who he was and what he had become. In order to secure the future of his dragon family, his first order of business is to return to his native town. Not as a female spellcrafter, but as a male dragon.

All the characters featured in this story are original characters that I have specifically created for the purpose of the story.

***A (Fe)male dragon's woes chapter 2: Worthy Mate***

"You're getting better at this," Sarathra crooned, her tongue following Surodar's jawline. "Or maybe you always were, and simply required the company to share your talents with."

The golden drake hummed in contentment as he lifted his left hind paw off her vent, his nostrils flaring to take in the pleasant scent of their combined fluids. They coated his paw pads as well, still warm, a perfect lubricant. To show his beloved mate that she had it right, that he had indeed learned something during these five days, Surodar placed his hind paw at the beginning of her vent, sliding his smooth, meaty pads along her puffed up entrance, his toes encasing her lips between them, applying soft pressure to them.

Sarathra released a shuddering growl, her own toes clenching from that lewd massage along her most sensitive area. "Does it bother you, knowing that you are not my first? That other males have shared your position? That I have willingly taken their seed, just like I took yours?" she said, stroking his neck with a forepaw while her tongue bathed his snout in slow, loving licks.

"Mrrrrh," Surodar purred, closing his eyes to savor her affection. "It is better this way, to have you guide me and teach me how to be a worthy male."

He had to bite back a chuckle at the irony of that statement, one still completely lost on his beloved mate. She did not know of Naya, of a previous existence lived in the civilized world as a human. At times, Surodar wished to simply forsake that part of himself and fully embrace this mysterious path destiny had set him on, but the intimate knowledge that this was simply a dream held him back. Two days from now, he would wake up from it as Naya, but until then, he planned to keep that worry at the back of his mind.

"It will take you longer to become a better hunter, but no dragon has ever touched me down there with his hind paws the way you do. No dragon released his seed inside me as fast as you did the first time, and since that moment, you've changed from a timid whelp into a mate that I cherish more than you expect."

Surodar chose to remain silent, running his pads up and down her seed drenched pussy, stoking the shudders wracking her frame, keeping his mate trapped in a state of constant euphoria.

Worthy mate...he was anything but that. Sarathra hunted for him. Sarathra showed him around. Sarathra bathed him, kept him warm during the colder nights, and protected him from a pack of direwolves that had managed to catch Surodar unawares. Without Sarathra, he was just a bumbling whelp, good for nothing.

It perplexed Surodar, how a strong, capable female like herself had latched onto a weakling such as him, a glorified messenger. He had initially intended to give her an ominous warning to leave these lands, and instead, she took away his most precious offering: his seed.

Surodar tensed up, his mate's silken tongue too much for him to bear. He felt awfully self-conscious about his situation, that of a female spellcrafter called Naya, who had transformed into a male dragon for the purpose of an assignment. She named herself Surodar and had embraced this existence to keep the lie going, to try and seek further opportunities to send her away while completely oblivious to the one thing he never expected.

To fall in love with her.

Sarathra, ever the resourceful dragoness, coerced Surodar into lingering around for a while, fully aware that her scent, the sight of her sex, and the promise of mating would be too great a temptation for an inexperienced male. And so, Surodar had mated with Sarathra more than a dozen times, enough to impregnate the lonely dragoness without the shadow of a doubt and bind himself to her in a most unconventional way.

But Naya, on the other hand, owed Sarathra nothing, so after those two days passed and the spell wore off...

An ominous shiver slithered through Surodar. He whimpered softly, loosening a cry for help, hoping that his mate would ask the proper questions and put an end to this charade.

Sarathra didn't pick his cue, so she continued to groom him, purring her delight at the way his padded toes fondled her nethers. One glance into her amethyst eyes made Surodar's scales tingle and his stomach churn with a thousand emotions. The warmth of her wing, draped over his smaller form, warmed him better than any blanket ever did, and her licks! Those soft, wet touches had him rumble his love for her with various flowing tunes, his snout always seeking hers to bump against in loving gestures.

Surodar the dragon was madly in love with Sarathra, which troubled Naya the human a great deal. After five days spent in this form, Surodar had learned when to push Naya into a corner of his mind, and when to allow her more space, lest he lost his identity, his very soul.

This was one such moment, and it made Surodar regret every moment of it. How could he enjoy his mate's embrace, when a swarm of thoughts kept his mind off it?

"I should hunt something for you," he said in an attempt to get some time to himself and clear his head in the process.

"You're a terrible hunter. I'm not going to allow that," Sarathra grumbled, trudging closer to him.

They both laid on their side, so that Surodar could play with Sarathra's vent. Her wriggling form forced his paw off her sex, her belly connecting with his, gray scales kissing his sunlit ones. He wanted to say more, but her tongue blocked his snout, assaulting his nostrils with a series of fast, excited licks.

"Does it hurt your pride, Surodar? For the female to provide for her mate?"

"You called me your mate a day ago. That should make us equal," he pointed out, even though his heart clenched at the sound of that word. Mate. A title that made Surodar want nothing more than to shrink to the size of a flea and fly away as far as he could.

But he couldn't. He had a responsibility to the mother of his hatchlings, and somehow, he had to manage.

"Didn't expect you to be so astute after emptying your essence inside me." To balm his ego, she rubbed her frilled cheek against his, emitting soft, pleasant sounds.

She had it right. If the implications behind that word didn't strike Surodar like a lightning bolt, he would have fallen asleep, lodged inside Sarathra, their physical bond mirroring the feelings they shared.

"And you expect me to just breed and sleep?"

"Shouldn't you? Perhaps I take great delight in looking over a fatigued male."

"What about one who smears the product of our mating all over your folds?" Surodar asked, feeling his slit heat up at the lewd thought.

"That is plain erotic, not adorable. Have you done that with all the females you mated with?"

This infuriating question. Again! Although Sarathra knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that she was Surodar's first, she kept nudging and teasing him for reassurance, the only chink in the armor of this great and lovely being.

"If you were not my first, would I have required several mating attempts to understand that there is more to a mating than just working myself to climax as quickly as possible?" Surodar said, placing his forepaws on the sides of her snout and basking her face with liquid affection.

"Or maybe you are just pent-up and lonely," she teased. No--not a mere tease. Her eyes darted to the sides, her jaws set firmly in their sockets, and she tightened the hold of her wing over Surodar, as if clinging to her prized possession.

Clues like these helped Surodar piece up her past. Dragons, in this part of the land, weren't monogamous. Might have been the presence of the intelligent races. Might have been a different cause altogether. Either way, males were free to simply mate, impregnate a female, and fly off, similar to most big cats. Or, they could stick around and help raise the little ones.

Sarathra must have dealt with the former type of male. She made it a habit not to discuss her past, but at times, it still came back to haunt her.

"I won't leave you," Surodar reassured her despite Naya's overwhelming protests at the back of his mind. "There is not a day I wish to spend without you."

"That may not be up to you," Sarathra said, her words making Surodar's heart shrink to the size of a pebble. "You seemed well-versed into the affair of humans, and two of them are coming our way, wearing those ridiculous metal outfits they call armor."

Surodar's wings jerked with the urge to fly off and meet them before his mate had the opportunity to do that, but Sarathra latched her paws around his shoulder and leaned over him to lick his leathery ears.

"I'll handle them. You stay behind me. The less of you they see, the better. Whatever past you shared with them, it no longer matters. You belong with me now, rrr?"

He wanted to object, to let his mate know that he had far more experience in dealing with humans, but Sarathra was already on her feet, her wings sprawled like protective curtains, tail swaying with practiced nonchalance.

Their booted footfalls soon reached Surodar's ears as well, his senses purposely dulled. After experience severe confusion during her first transformations, Naya began to employ this necessary restriction to prevent certain symptoms once her transformation spell wore off, like withdrawal. After experiencing the world through the heightened senses of various beasts, her human form felt sluggish and impaired on multiple levels, a drawback that others could take advantage of.

The rattling of their armor grew in intensity, but Sarathra remained undisturbed, her head turning around to take in the highlands sprawling behind them. They chose to lay on the fringe of a copse of trees, too close to a sheep farm. Somebody must've spotted them and alerted whoever came to negotiate their departure.

Apprehension bloomed within Surodar's breast. He pushed himself up as well, nuzzling and licking at the base of Sarathra's wing until the dragoness relented, folding her wings to the sides to give him a reassuring glance.

"Don't be so stiff, mate. No dragons died to humans. They spin whatever tales suit them."

Close enough. The mayor of Karad's Rest, a town situated relatively close to the border with Jharedym, didn't have to soil his reputation, or that of his people, when it came to dealing with dragons. If negotiations to relocate their resident dragons elsewhere failed, he had but send an envoy to Jharedym and have the wyvern riders rid them of the nuisance. They never asked for payment either, the bodies of their quarry valuable enough to their dragonscale workers and alchemysts.

Surodar sat on his haunches to contain his worry, clawing at the ground and looking around the bend. A clean shaved head popped first, followed by the unmistakable curly, auburn hair of sergeant Garen, the very man who had commissioned Naya's services. The sight of his burgundy brigandine raiment and stark features made his heart skip a beat and his breath hitch in his throat.

Sarathra noticed his uneasiness and began licking at his cheek, regardless of the approaching visitors.

"Got yourself a mate, miss dragon," Garen said, clasping his hands and rubbing them together, flaunting a confident smirk. "Should we bring you a shipment of twigs and fluff for the nest? Blankets, furs, pillows? Whatever it takes to make your stay pleasant?"

Surodar smelled the bitter sarcasm from a mile away, the man's brown eyes narrow, focused, oozing coldness.

"I'll have you informed on where to deliver them as soon as we pick a location," she said, laying down on her side, purposefully shifting her tail away from her vent to give the two humans a glimpse of the outcome of their mating.

Surodar bit back his growl, every muscle in his body tightening with the urge to jump in front of her and cover that worrisome sight that would only flare the humans' paranoia regarding Sarathra's innocent intentions.

But to what end? They had already seen it, for the bald one kept licking his lips, gaze dancing back and forth between Sarathra's sex and Garen's tall, imposing form.

Dear Sarathra...she fell straight into Garen's trap.

"Uhm, she's serious, sergeant, if you just uhm...take a look under her tail," the bald one muttered.

That earned him a slap across the back of his head. "I brought you as a witness, to shut up and witness in silence."

The corner of his mouth angled into an elegant grin as Garen bowed his head reverently. "May your clutch live long, miss dragon. Why, we'll do our utmost to house not one, or two, but a whole family of you fire-breathing, thieving, moody beasts on our lands. Make yourself at home, and feel free to eat whatever you like and whoever you like."

"We don't eat people," Sarathra said calmly. "Takes too long to get them out of their clothes, and they upset the stomach."

Garen burst into a bout of raucous laughter, slapping his companion's chest. "We upset their stomach. Hear that? Or maybe they just use soldier armor for toothpicks and leave the dead for us to bury. Dragons gotta respect the customs of their host, right?"

"Why are you here?" Surodar decided to cut to the point, unwilling to let this matter drag on for more than necessary.

Garen's features hardened, his bony, wind burnt cheeks becoming more prominent as he narrowed his lips. "Leave. Go whelp in the mountains, where your kind lives. Fly right now, and I won't have to inform the wyvern riders that we have prime material for their dragonscale armor. They're the latest fashion in Jharedym's capital, and golden scales are in high demand."

Sarathra couldn't keep her snarl in check. "Come closer, tinman. You and your friend. I've an itch behind the ear, and would appreciate a bit of help."

The bald one took a step forward, and only stopped when Garen shoved him back so hard that he stumbled. "She's a dragon, not a focking puppy that you can pet when you'd like."

Sarathra let out a mellow purr. "You should take your companion's example. He's a better diplomat than you are."

That rubbed Garen the wrong way. His fingers itched to grip his sword's handle and negotiate with his blade instead of relying on his words.

"May be that he met better dragons, not petty whelps who can't hunt their own food. I've been gracious enough to give you the benefit of the doubt, but the longer you stay, the more of a pain in my backside you'll become. And that doesn't include your mate."

Surodar held Garen's gaze, taking a perverse pleasure in staring the human down. He had no idea, did he? And why should he? When had he ever contemplated to keep Naya over for dinner? Or at least grant her greater compensation for her efforts? That ignorant buffoon...

"Sheep. It's always about cows and sheep with you. Very well, then. Consider them tribute."

Garen laughed in her face at such ridiculous notion, and kept doing that even when Sarathra pushed herself onto her limbs to circle him. She towered above the pitiful human, the embodiment of majesty itself, with silver colored horns and spines that ran the length of her back, united by light gray webbing. Her pitch black scales ought to have intimidated any man, but Garen held his ground, well aware that the moment news spread about the demise of a human at a dragon's talons, wyvern riders would sweep the whole countryside apart, slaying not only the offender, but the entire dragon population in that area.

Garen was safe, comfortable, at ease, his arms crossed over his chest, head turning around to admire Sarathra's beauty.

"You're dripping," he said, twisting his neck to look under her tail. "Is that what this is? A subtle request for me to wipe you down there?"

"Hrrrr," Sarathra growled in amusement. "It's a confirmation of your suspicions, and proof that we've mated enough times to have a clutch."

Garren shrugged his shoulders in feigned indifference "So why keep doing it? Or is that another thing you have appropriated from our culture?"

Sarathra let out an excited trill, turning to face him. "To strengthen our bonds. Words do not serve us dragons as well as they serve you humans. They can be false, and they often lead you astray, but the caress of a tongue always bears the same meaning, and no love feels more true than that of a male emptying his passion inside his female."

Garen's companion quirked an eyebrow, bringing a hand to his mouth to hide his grin from the sergeant who stepped in front of Sarathra, inches from her lowered snout.

"Leave. Or I'll give you plenty of reason to fly to the end of the world, where the winds will tear your wings apart and the tar pits will swallow your emaciated form."

"What about the bandits?" Sarathra countered. "Did you try the same strategy with them? Because recently, I have saved five caravans, stopped a raid on a small village, burned down a cellar filled with furs and killed the poachers who thinned your herds of prey that is not native to these lands. I get bored, you seen, and I prefer to keep my territory clean of filth that we're all better off without."

She craned her head, snout pressing against Garen's tunic, slitted eyes bearing into his. "A sheep every now and then is a small price to pay to have a dragon dispose of the wretched scum your kind can be at times."

Something changed within Garen. His frame relaxed, his eyes shifted to the side, and his hand fell on top of Sarathra's snout to rub it, much to the dragoness' surprise. "Far be it for me, a warrior, to ignore the valiance of others, regardless of their kind. But I'm afraid a pat on the snout is all I can give you, miss dragon."

"Sarathra," she cooed, arching her neck into an S shape. "I'm glad that you acknowledge my role in keeping some of your villages safe, but I can't do that if I have to fly away. So we can either work a lucrative deal that serves both our interests, or remain at odds until one of us does something they might later regret. I am, after all, with eggs that I wish to lay in the territory of my beloved."

So she decided to play safe and tickle Garen's fancy. Good call on her part. Karad's Rest already had its resources and patrols stretched thin with the building of several trade routes between the villages, and the bandits Sarathra hunted were outside of Karad's Rest's area of influence.

At least until they got greedy and fixed their eyes on bigger prey than peasant huts. That was bound to rile up the squads under the mayor's command, unless Sarathra decided to keep the threat at bay so that the humans didn't have to.

Garen inhaled deeply, his gaze no longer stern, but contemplative. "A rogue dragon is still a rogue dragon. You may be the logical sort who heeds reason, but your kin is known to be...volatile at times, as is mine. We may strike a deal, we may respect each other, and we can even spend a day together to better understand each other, but I'm just a sergeant."

Surodar approached his mate, rubbing his neck against hers before addressing the sergeant. "So allow me to accompany you to Karad's Rest and register us both as protectors of the town, where your mayor and commander can witness our pledge of...protection," Surodar said, uncertain of how Sarathra would act to the term of 'allegiance.'

"Protectors of the town, eh?" Garen scratched at the stubble of his chin, but Surodar saw through his reason to stall. He must have wondered how in the world a wild dragon came to know of Karad's Rest's politics, and for good reason. Sitting so close to the sergeant was enough to give Surodar the shivers, but his mate extended a wing over him, nibbling on his ear, fueling his faltering courage.

"I don't suppose you've been approached by a dragoness going by the name of Naya. Am I right in that assumption?"

Marrow froze in Surodar's bones at the sound of that name, his fear of being discovered so deep that his breath stuck in his throat.

"Naya is not a dragon's name," Sarathra said, her frills widening with excitement. "Is she a pet dragon? The sort that humans fatten and parade through their cities?"

Garen chuckled. "Naya is not a dragon. At least, not a permanent one. She's the town's spellcrafter, impatient, adventurous, and mouthy as a brat, but the only one capable to attain such elevated form."

"Are humans capable of that?" Sarathra's voice sounded ominous, venomous even.

"Mmmm," Garen nodded. "And that's not the best of it. Was Naya a male, his seed would have taken hold inside a female like that of an ordinary dragon, bestowing great magical capabilities upon the fortunate clutch. And if a female spellcrafter happens to get impregnated while wearing her animal form, well..." he clicked his tongue and licked his lips. "Then she should learn to get used to that particular body, because she's stuck in it until she whelps. Or forever. Magic's not my domain, miss dr--Sarathra," he corrected himself. "Is why I hired her to talk you into leaving our lands for good, but if you haven't seen her, it means her skills don't quite match her ego."

An earnest man. Too bad he had the tendency to devolve into his foul-mouthed, skeptical father figure from time to time. The curse of improper upbringing...

"I would have known if a weaver of such elaborate lies approached me. I haven't met such spellcrafter, nor do I have the wish to do so." She snorted a puff of grey smoke, stomping a front paw impatiently, irritated with the vile notion that humans could appropriate her very form for their own needs.

Surodar wanted to calm her, but couldn't, for he was frozen stiff by the interaction that referred to his previous form.

In the end, it was Garen that saved him from a most awkward moment. "Nevertheless, I'd appreciate if you notify a guard in case you spot her. The squires under her charge claimed she's a green dragon. Sage, or emerald colored. Fuck a goat if I know..."

Did they? Without any instructions? Perhaps they were more resourceful and cunning than Naya gave him credit for. Thanks to their deception, she had the opportunity to settle these matters on her own terms and in her own time.

Unless Surodar did it for her, presuming he had the courage to bring this matter before his very mate.

"In return for what?" Sarathra demanded.

"I'm sure we can convince the peasants that a few lost sheep are a better loss than their very lives." Without an extra word, Garen turned around and signaled his companion to follow.

"Wait," Surodar called. "I should...accompany you to the town. Seal a contract."

Damnation! His body trembled from snout tip to tail tip. Thanks goodness his mate assumed the humans made him uneasy.

"I'll go with him," Sarathra volunteered.

Oh no. No, no, no... That was terrible!

Surodar stepped in front of her, blocking her way, unfurling his wings. "You're not going. Not this time. Their streets are narrow, and you inspire both terror and grandeur."

"Good. Should make them consider twice before loosening their mouths." She lifted a paw, which Surodar grabbed between his jaws in protest, making the dragoness chuff in surprise.

No no. No words. He made sure to keep her maw shut by bathing it with sluggish, pleasant licks, the type females such as her loved.

"Let me do this. Just this time."

Sarathra relented with an audible growl, if only because she promised to give Surodar the opportunity to develop his abilities.

"If my mate doesn't return come nightfall, I'll make sure every woman in your town will remain alone for all the nights to come." She spoke with such fervor even Garen shuddered in his boots.

"He will return, he'll mate with you, and you'll forget this threat was ever made," the sergeant said.

"I never forget."

That said, Sarathra crouched and launched herself into the air, letting out a bellowing roar that made the baldie stumble and almost fall.

"Don't tell her that, but if I was a dragon, I'd keep that one satisfied using every means at my disposal," Garen said, snickering and patting Surodar on the neck. "We'll have to negotiate for your clutch. Two protectors are enough. Five are acceptable, but any more than that are redundant and will undoubtedly invite more of your kind to settle into our lands. I believe there are enough resources for all of us, but the mayor won't like to see his beautiful highlands turn into a dragon breeding ground."

"Not a dragon sympathizer, are you?" Surodar mentioned, trying to buy more time for his shivers to settle.

"I like dragons. Just not at first. Too full of themselves, arrogant and prone to incinerate or maul those they disagree with. I may not know much about you and Sarathra, but you're welcome to fuck on our lands day and night, so long as you remember to kill bandits every now and then. Paint your kind in a better light, eh?"

Surodar mulled over the sergeant's words. His kind...which would that be? Dragon, or human? Male, or female?

***End of chapter 2***

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