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A Reminder of Respect For FyacinTia Sponsored by Repanbo By Draconicon

Warrior, rogue, and courtesan. Those were the three words that described the lion known as Fyacin best, and he had neglected the former two for too long. For all the pleasure that he had taken in the tower of the great dragon, the lion knew that there were other parts of him that had gone ignored for too long. He needed to do something to express himself again, to flex the muscles that had lain dormant for too long.

Besides, his master had been busy with other things for so long that he was bored. There had been no wave of musky dominance entering his chambers for nearly two weeks now, and while there had been the flirtatious, smoky looks from the great black beast in the public rooms, that was not enough to keep him satisfied. He needed something more, and if he was not going to get it in the bedroom, then he needed to take himself somewhere where he would.

The lion leaned against the balcony of his bedroom in the great skyscraper that was the dragon's home, as well as the harem's. Wrapped in a black catsuit that clung to him from his neck to his ankles, he couldn't help but preen just a little bit. The tightness of the leather made him feel sexy, sexy and powerful, and he flexed his muscles just to feel the suit flex back against him, reminding him of just how much it showed off.

Half-purring, the feline leaned back against the balcony again, his legs slowly spreading, deliberately weakening his stance so that he was increasingly at risk of over-balancing and falling over the side. The more he spread his legs, the more that his bulge pushed forward, a happy little coin purse with a soft rod over the top. He smiled at it, flicking his tail around as it formed the lever between his back and the balcony railing.

Annnnnd over we go.

Lit by nothing but moonlight, Fyacin fell from the balcony. He twisted and turned as the wind rushed past him, his whiskers flicking against his face, his ears pulled back to minimize the roar of the wind rushing past him. Window after window sped past him, and he fell too fast for anyone to see anything but a flicker of black through the glass.

Further, further, further down he went, falling through the gaps in the security cameras, dropping until gravity thought it had him in an inescapable grip. Halfway down -

Tink, tink, tink.

Three slaps of the grappling hook against different holes that he'd scouted out earlier that day, three slaps to slow him down before the fourth one caught. The lion swung himself upright, crouching in the access vent, and tucked the grappling hook against his waist again. There might be a need for it later, and he doubted that Veronica had left the tunnels completely clear of traps. She had been assiduous about that.

But he had been waiting to test himself against the best. It was time to finally do that.

Fyacin smiled to himself, feeling a sense of excitement that he hadn't felt in weeks. For too long, he had been a lap-cat, a tame lion. Well, tonight, it was time to remind everyone that he had been something far more interesting before coming here, and that he still had the skills that he had brought along with him.

The lion crouch-walked through the vent, eventually going prone when the ceiling dropped around him. He knew what was up ahead, and he prepared himself by slowing down, one hand pulling a few sticky pads from his waist.

The vent came to an end in an open chamber, one that channeled the wind from outside up and down the skyscraper. The design was meant to keep anyone that didn't have a good idea of where things were from finding their way to their objective. Each vent line that ran out from the core went to a different part of the tower than you expected it to, and more than one intruder thinking that they'd found an easy way through had been caught right here.

Not Fyacin, though. He knew how to find his way out...if he could avoid the lasers.

Whoosh, whoosh. The red lines burned in his vision as he put in a new set of contact lenses. They were bright crimson, vibrating to the point where he swore he should be able to hear the humming that they made.

Of course, he couldn't, but that was hardly his problem, was it?

Attacking the sticky pads to his hands, he crawled out of the vent and pressed himself to the wall. Some of the lasers remained still, others moved regularly in circular patterns, while some were on timers, flicking up and down seemingly at random until you knew their ticks. He had been informed of them, had learned them when he had gone through a couple of practice runs, but this was the first time when he was doing it seriously. This was the first time where he couldn't make a mistake.

Despite himself, Fyacin smiled. It was good to be back to work.

The cat-burglar leaped from one chunk of wall to another, throwing himself through the gap between two lasers and sticking the landing. Before the rolling laser scanner in the next area could find him, he jumped again, and again, and again, speeding up as he gathered confidence in his moves.

Sometimes, he'd fall, deliberately dropping himself a couple dozen feet to be at the right height for his target, and other times he would throw himself into a spiraling lunge for a spot a few feet higher. Each move was carefully calculated to avoid detection.

Of course, he imagined that the Shepherd security woman had already added more security devices, more ways of tracking intruders since he had last been here, so he knew better than to wait. He could celebrate later.

Finally, he dropped to the proper vent, near the exact middle of the wind chamber. He wiggled his way in, his tufted tail twitching in self-satisfaction as he pulled the sticky pads from his fingers. They went back in the pocket for later, since he'd need them to get back out again, but for now...

For now, he was doing well.

Wiggling down the vent, Fyacin made sure to avoid the little laser pointers that were sticking out of the top and sides of it. Veronica probably had left traps that were more than good enough to send him flying back out into the wind tunnel, and if that happened, then he'd fall for a good long while before he was caught by the safety-security net. That would hold him until the rest of the harem could find him, and then...

Well, then he'd be gangbanged, probably. That seemed to be the average punishment for wasting people's time.

Shaking his head, Fyacin reminded himself. Courtesan and warrior and rogue. He was not merely the courtesan, and he was going to show them that today.

Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle went the lion down the vent, and eventually, he reached his target. The master of the skyscraper had a vault - several, in fact - that held the big treasures that were part of his collection. Fyacin had always imagined that some of the swords that were in those vaults would look particularly good on his hips, and the appearance of a dashing swordsman had never exactly disagreed with him.

Getting out of the vent was far easier than getting in. A few little twists of his claw along the screws that held the vent cover in removed it with ease, and he caught it before it could fall. Turning it until it could fit through the hole it had covered, he put it a bit further down the vent line before dropping down.

"Cake. Tuna-cake."

He smiled, brushing the lingering dust off his cat-suit, and he walked up to the vault door. All the security had been in the rooms preceding this one, from the death traps to the sex traps. The master must have considered the vents to be too cliché, or had trusted the various scanners in the wind tunnel to be good enough to stop anyone from sneaking through them.

How wrong he was.

Fyacin walked up to the vault door. There was a giant winding wheel for it, almost like he would have found on a safe. The master must have had a bit of a thing for the aesthetic, because it certainly wasn't a very practical method. Oversized or not, it was going to be easy to pick that lock.

Leaning against the door, pressing his ear flush against the metal, the lion started flicking the turn-wheel as if it was a giant yarn string. As it turned this way and that, he heard the tumblers rolling around inside. Every little tick-click of it catching was another reminder that he hadn't lost his skills.

Soon, there was only one more tumbler to catch. He leaned in a bit closer, pushed himself flush against the door -

Click.

...That wasn't me.

He felt pressure on the other side of the door, and the lion leaped to the ceiling so fast that one might have thought a Champagne bottle had been popped. With all claws extended and the sticky pads back on his fingers, he stared as the black dragon pushed the door open, his master walking out of the vault below him.

Well, at least that explained how it had been so safe in here. He had thought it was a little under-protected.

The lion clung to the ceiling with all the strength in his fingers and toes as the black dragon shut the door behind him, gathering his robes in tight and tucking a book under his arm. He hummed softly, pressing his fingers to the metal door. The swinging metal arms that had been part of the spinning key suddenly retracted, pulling into the center of the door, leaving the whole front smooth.

As the master walked away, every step created a new security trap. Acid floors on either side of a walkway that seemed enchanted with electricity, swinging blades that tumbled in from either side, stomping squares from the ceiling to smash anything that was on a safe square for more than a millisecond, and more started to appear out of thin air.

By the time that the master had left the room, the chamber was a verified death trap. Fyacin clung to the only tile on the ceiling that seemed to be unenchanted, and he was above the door to the vault. All this was true, but it meant that the moment he let go, he would be dropping himself in the shit.

This is just not fair...

Shaking his head, the cat reached out with his tail, tapping the edge of the smooth door. No reaction. A slightly longer tap. No reaction. He scooted one foot over to it, pushing his pads against it and feeling them stick. No reaction.

Okay, so at least the door isn't trapped...

He swung himself over to it, barely missing a sudden attack from behind. The stomping, thwomping blocks just never stopped, slamming down all around, all of them eager to knock him into the acid. The fact that the dragon had apparently been inspired by a Mario level didn't escape him, and the lion made the decision to talk to Veronica and Ellyra about blocking the master's access to MarioMaker videos.

Still, as he crawled down the vault door like a spider, he felt confident. He had managed to avoid notice, he just needed to pull the metal spinner out of the middle of the door and get the tumblers back into place. That shouldn't be that hard, as long as he didn't mess it up the first time.

Well, first time, every time.

The lion pressed his claws into the place where the wheel had been. While it looked smooth, there was a slight hint of the magic lines that the dragon had traced over the center to give the metal a place to slide into when it wasn't in use. He smiled, tracing over it counterclockwise, following the lines of the spell.

You just touch it here, here, and - there we go.

The locking spells always had a key of their own, and even the master didn't seem to know that many of them. Fyacin hummed as the center pillar of metal finally came free again, swinging himself around as the bars came loose. He sat on the metal wheel, leaning his head against the door. No need to be blasé or mundane about this one; he could do this in style.

The cat spun the safe lock like a waterwheel, spinning it this way and that by running on it. Every so often, he had to stutter-step to a halt, going the other way, but that was fine. It meant that he had a better grasp on it, and he probably looked cooler doing it, anyway.

Eventually, the last tumbler clicked into place. The vault door opened, and Fyacin flung himself back to the ceiling, front-flipping over the door and into the crack that had opened up.

The vault was as richly appointed as he had expected, and then some. The lion grinned, rubbing his hands together as he passed over the gold coins in the middle of the room for the weapons on the far side. Daggers, swords, glaives, and more lined the walls, each one covered in the sheen of a powerful enchantment. He saw legendary things from other worlds, like the Sword of Kas and the Dawnbreaker, and he saw things that had no names as far as he knew.

He walked up to one of the spears that lined the wall, feeling a rather fond feeling for the tribal feathers that were just under the spear-tip. He felt that it would work rather nicely as a new tool for himself, and -

Creaaaaaaaaaaaaak.

Fyacin's eyes went wide as he heard the vault door opening again. The lion didn't even move; there was nowhere to hide save for under the pile of gold, and there was no way that he was getting under that anytime soon.

"...Well. I suppose forgetting to grab another spellbook was more fortuitous than I thought."

The lion let out a muttered curse, then put a smile on his face as he turned around, holding the spear in hand.

"Hello, Master. I just thought that I'd check the inventory in the vault. You know, see what we had, what we needed. This spear is quite nice; may I have it?"

"Fyacin?"

The black dragon arched an eyebrow, his white eyes already pulling at the lion's own. The thief refused to meet them, humming and looking up at the ceiling.

"My, my, what a secure ceiling. Yep, nothing getting through that. Nothing breaking into this vault without a lot more preparation than I made. No, indeed."

"Fyacin."

"Not that I was breaking in with any bad habits in mind. Just flexing my skills. Nothing that you need to worry about. Nope."

"Fyacin."

The master was closer now, and he could almost smell the scaly beast. The same soft musk that had been there when he had been in the public rooms was flooding the vault now, pricking at the lion's libido. He hated that feeling, hated how easy he could be when that hit him, but at the same time, it was hard for him to care when it felt as good as it did. He groaned as he felt the warmth washing over him already, knowing that it was only going to get worse the more that he breathed in the soft scent of the master's maleness.

This isn't fair. I'm a warrior, dammit. This is supposed to be my job, not the master's.

Yet, there was very little that the lion could do. Now that the master was letting that scent out, all he could think about were the many sessions where he had spent hours with his nose pressed up against the dragon's privates, feeling his balls churning against his cheeks and lips, feeling that fat shaft resting against his forehead. He groaned under his breath as he felt the images rising in the back of his mind, and more importantly, feeling his shaft rising through the front of the catsuit.

The leather was tight enough that it didn't quite get upright, but the coin purse look in the front was spoiled by more of a forward-facing rod than had been there earlier. He groaned under his breath, trying to look down and away, but the master's soft footsteps continued to approach, clicking on the coins until -

Thump. One hand rested on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze. Fyacin sighed, holding out the spear.

"Thank you," the dragon said, taking it and floating it back to where it had rested moments ago. "Now, you want to run this one by me?"

"What's there to say? I got caught," Fyacin said with a playful smirk.

"You were doing this for a reason. Come now, my friend; you know that you can be honest with me."

"Why tell a thief to be honest?"

"Why tell a courtesan to stick to one person? Why tell a warrior to be honorable?"

"..."

"Because you can't hone your skills without limitations," the dragon said with a small chuckle. "Come on. Sit down."

The black dragon gestured, and the great pile of gold swept itself up, becoming chair and cushion, throne and back all at once for the both of them. For once, Fyacin wasn't left at the base of things, as a footrest and a cushion; instead, he had a throne of his own that allowed him to sit tall and grand.

He rather liked it.

The black dragon settled his robes out to the sides, his heavy shaft laying against one thigh, his sac drooping and flattening out against the seat of his throne. He shifted from side to side, his tail pushed out behind him, and then gestured for the lion to speak. Fyacin sighed, trying to get as comfortable on his throne and failing, but did as he was bid.

"I just needed to do something that wasn't...sex," the lion said, shaking his head. "Everyone talks about the 'slutty kitty', and..."

"And?" the dragon asked.

"Well, it feels like that's all they see."

"You'd prefer them to see a thief?"

"Well, I'd like it if they saw someone that knew what he was doing, instead of a drugged-out cat..."

"Is that how you really feel?"

Fyacin rubbed his arm, looking down. He sighed.

"Sometimes. Not all the time. The teasing...it's fun, but sometimes it gets to me, you know?"

"I know."

The dragon shook his head. Fyacin realized then that the vault door was closed, and he sighed.

"So, what now? Musk me up so that I forget what I was doing? Go back to being a good little sex kitten?"

"Heh. Hardly."

"...What?"

"You want to be a warrior? I'm happy to see you show off. There's always the possibility of something going wrong out here, after all, and the more people we have that can fight, the better," the black dragon said, stretching his head from side to side before leaning on his fist. "And if you can fight well, then you can help teach the others. I'm sure that you have moves that'd be good for others to know."

"You mean that?"

"Of course. But before we do that..."

The coins slithered away, and the master got to his feet. His big, broad, somewhat shiny feet, Fyacin noticed to his annoyance. The lion snapped his fingers by his ears until he was focused again, getting to his feet as well.

By the time that he did, the master had changed the piles of gold into a small arena, something that would give them space to move, but not get that much distance from each other. His master was shedding his robe, throwing it over his shoulder and over the walls of the arena, and that meant that there was even more eye-candy for the lion. Fyacin blinked, shaking his head.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought you could give me a lesson in fighting. Fighting your way."

"What, seriously? Me, teach the master of magic?"

"I don't always have magic, depending on who I'm fighting or where I am," the dragon said, shrugging. "It's good for me to know how to do other things."

Of all the consequences that the lion had imagined for being caught, this wasn't the one that he would have put near the top. Hell, he wouldn't have put this one near the middle, if he was completely honest. Fighting the master was something that was usually reserved for Zavis or even Veronica, people that the master knew and had put in places of security, people that he trained with on a regular basis.

The fact that this wasn't even a punishment, but rather a new thing to try...

Smiling, the lion shifted his footing, sliding one forward and the other slightly back, narrowing his profile and giving himself more options. He threw the daggers at his waist over his shoulders, out of the arena, and ignored the stiffening erection in his catsuit.

"Any rules?"

"No magic from me," the dragon said. "Other than that, we have some great healers here. Just don't go for anything lethal, and we should -"

That was all Fyacin needed to hear. He threw himself into a jumping kick, and his paw came down right in the dragon's face. It was shocking that the master hadn't teleported, but even more shocking to feel the dragon go down and hit the floor from the blow. His eyes went wide as he looked down at his master, seeing his toes jammed right into the dragon's cheeks.

The master grunted softly, shaking his head as the lion stepped back.

"Ow..."

"Are...are you okay? I seriously thought -"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Hard scales make for good shock absorbers. Still. Wow."

"...I honestly thought you were going to teleport."

"Well, I said this was a lesson, didn't I? I plan to learn."

"With my foot in your face?"

"Maybe if you win enough times."

Fyacin's bulge twitched slightly at that, and he groaned, covering his front as the dragon seemed to look down. It was always hard with the master, with those pure white eyes making it hard to tell where he was glancing at any given time, but he swore that he was getting his crotch ogled right then and there.

"Stop looking at my dick..."

"It's hard not to when you're hard as a rock."

"Your fault. You got me thinking about..."

His master smiled, and Fyacin cut himself off. The last thing that he was going to do was feed his master more ammo about his entirely-not-there foot fetish. It wasn't like he enjoyed them. It wasn't like he got into them. That was the master's thing only, and not his in the slightest.

Even if it had been rather satisfying to put the master underfoot for a moment or two.

The dragon got back to his feet, flicking his wings out, and gestured for them to start again. Fyacin hesitated, and quickly found out that was a mistake.

The dragon copied his kick perfectly, and it was only through cat reflexes that he didn't hit the floor right then and there. Fyacin rolled backwards, leaning his head out of the way, and the dragon flew past him. On instinct, the lion swung his other leg up, his hand flicking in a delayed punch, but the dragon turned and caught his kick on a scaly shin.

The punch, however, still got through, hitting the master right in the chest.

He didn't quite knock the breath out of the dragon, but he could feel the impact doing something. They stood there, leg against leg, the lion's fist in the dragon's chest, and they both panted softly.

"You're faster than you look, Fyacin," his master said, smiling. "You pretend to be a languid, leisurely thing, but you have faster reflexes than most of your species."

"It's a saving-the-world thing. You do it enough times, you learn how to keep from being hit."

"You know what? I've had the same experience."

Feeling a little tickle of toes against the underside of his paw, Fyacin blushed slightly and disentangled with his master. It took him a second to pull himself back together, but by the time that the dragon was on the other side of the arena again, he was back to normal. Mostly. His cock was still stiffening for some reason.

It was probably the musk. Despite everything, the master's scent was still there. The black dragon might not be playing with it, might not be using it to really push his will around, but it was still there, and it was still very, very distracting. He groaned under his breath, rubbing his nose as he bobbed from foot to foot.

"Ready to teach me another lesson, Fyacin?" his master asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's get started." The dragon held up his hand, tapping an invisible bell. "Ding, ding."

The sparring rounds continued between dragon and lion for nearly three hours, though with frequent breaks. The more that they fought, the faster that the dragon became, and the more moves that he started showing off. Fyacin wondered how long the master would be able to keep going at the first hour, wondered if he would run out of moves at the second, and by the third, he was starting to drag.

The lion's body was covered in sweat, his forehead shining with effort, the catsuit peeled down to his waist to allow his body to breathe. He huffed for breath, leaning against the gold wall as the dragon stood before him, one large foot pressed against the gold close enough to catch the edge of his mane.

"Okay...you've got the speed, master," Fyacin said.

"But not the technique."

The lion chuckled, shaking his head as he twiddled his toes between the dragon's legs. If he had wanted to, he could have kicked up, caught the dragon's sac between the top of his foot and the master's scaly crotch. The master still had a long way to go to get all the awareness down without using his magic, but the speed that he'd gained was frightening.

Fyacin tried to shift his position, but the foot on his mane made that very hard. Even as he twitched his head to the side, trying to free it, the master just kept his sole planted right where it was.

"Um, master...can I have my head back?"

"Heh. Not quite yet."

"Why not?"

"I think I've earned a little admission out of you for all this."

"Wha - oh, come on. That's not fair. I'm the one putting out all the effort to teach you properly. If anything, you should be the one to admit something."

"Who's the one pinned right now?"

"Who's got their balls right where I can kick them?"

"Not that you would."

"...No," the lion admitted. "But that doesn't mean that this is fair."

The dragon smiled, and for the first time in the whole fight, flicked his wing.

As soon as the master did, the air stirred, and the musk that had been thick and heavy enough to begin with suddenly came crashing down on the lion's mind. He groaned under his breath, rolling his head back and around his shoulders. His knees went weak, and his cock suddenly throbbed, hard. Pre-cum spit into the leather around it, making it darker, wetter, slicker.

As he slipped from his stance, falling to his knees, the master's sole came with him. It pressed against his cheek, adding to the warmth that filled his nose and mind. The slightly sour scent that came from the dragon's sole joined it, not spoiling it, but rather adding another layer that burned in the air around him. Fyacin's cock throbbed and twitched, almost rising out of the catsuit entirely.

"Nnngh...mmmph..."

The lion tried to twist his head away, but the master pinned his nose between two toes, forcing him to breathe it in, even making him kiss the ball of that scaly foot. He groaned under his breath, trying to hold himself back from it, but the pure arousal that it filled him with was impossible to deny.

His head was pinned against the golden wall, and Fyacin shivered as he felt the master's tail running between his legs, rubbing against his thighs and against his still-hidden sac. That light pressure kept his cock throbbing up and down, and he bit off a moan...barely.

"Come on, my little thief. All you have to do to get out of here is admit what you really want..."

"Mmmph...not...not fair...master..."

"You know that you've come to like them," the dragon said, rolling his foot slowly, gently grinding his sole against the feline's lips. "Come on. What's the harm in admitting that you like your master's soles, your 'student's' feet?"

He flushed from both the flattery and the forced arousal. The lion tried to twist, but the skilled thief was pinned. He tried to raise his legs to fight, but the strength had gone right out of him.

Warrior, rogue, and courtesan. There was nothing wrong in being all three, only shame in denying the other things that he could do.

As his master teased him, he shivered, feeling his exhaustion fade, a heat replacing it in, a heat that ran down his spine, filled his balls, and then churned right back up to his head. His cock throbbed harder still, wanting to be touched, to be teased, to -

To feel the master's toes running along either side. Yes, yes, that would be hot as all hell...

"Go on, Fyacin. Admit it, and I'll let you have some pleasure...Or...I can take it away...and you'll have blue-balls for the rest of the day."

It wasn't...that bad. He could admit it here, between them, and it would be done. He'd be able to get off shortly after, and...and yeah...it wasn't that bad.

Leaning his head to the side, Fyacin dragged his tongue along the bottom of his master's foot, tasting a bit of sweat, but mostly the scales, the musk, the soft warmth of the body. He moaned under his breath, cupping the master's heel, but he still couldn't get free, still couldn't get off.

"Come on, Fyacin...just let me hear it..."

"Mmmph...Fine..." He shivered. "I like feet."

"What was that?"

"I said, I like feet! Is that good enough? I want to feel yours on my face, on my cock. I want to just...to enjoy you, and enjoy them, and...and just be free to have fun. Is that good enough?"

"...I don't know." Master pointed up. "Why don't you ask Spider-Ellyra?"

Slowly, Fyacin looked up. There, hanging from the ceiling on a string that ran right from the panels above to her ass, was the robocorn. She had a camera in her hand, and an antennae on her shoulder, one that was beeping as if it was transmitting. Fyacin's eyes went wide, and his cheeks burned hotter than ever.

"Got it, master," Ellyra said.

"Good girl. Now, Fyacin...let's have some real fun..."

The End