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It's cold.

Winter was late upon the land, and the proud, southern slopes of the Breran mountains once again found their heights graced by a dusting of soft, powdery snow. It fell in delicate sheets upon the rich, dark soil of the low-lying valleys, decorating the Breran evergreens with caps of pale, glittering lace, and drifting in slow, meandering waves from the ceaseless march of grey clouds which rolled along overhead. The late season's snow had brought a tenuous silence upon the territory, and as Yurio Alhetzern looked out over the mountains from atop the lofty perch of a snow-laden cliff - _his_mountains, he reminded himself - he felt a sudden stirring of gratefulness for the calm that winter had given to his lands, and to his thoughts.

Cold... and quiet.

The young dragon exhaled deeply, watching through half-lidded, snow-dusted lashes as his breath quickly fogged in the chilled alpine air. This was his twenty-seventh winter in these very mountains, and yet despite his relative youth, Yurio felt as though he'd dwelt there for centuries; the cold had brought with it deep, ancestral memories, ancient and unbidden, telling him to burrow, to lie down in the warm, earthen dark with his mates and rest until the sun returned to the land. Dragons often felt the calling of such memories in times of doubt and fear, and the wisdom that they brought carried with it the foresight of countless generations. They made him feel old, perhaps even jaded. The cold suddenly tickled at him as he considered these instinctual memories - curt, icy pricks that danced upon his goose-pimpled hide - and he shook himself, sending a small cascade of powdery snow from the tawny expanses of his wings.

Go home, his instincts told him. Go home where it's warm and dark, and let your mates tend to your fears. The winter sky has nothing for you.

Yurio snorted brusquely, dismissing the thought as he sent another puff of warm, humid air out into the cold, where it swiftly frosted and drifted down to the earth. Returning to his cave was the last_thing he wanted to do. It might have been cold out there in the snow, and the frost thick upon his wings, but it was also _quiet, and he could for a time pretend that he had no greater responsibilities in his life, and that nothing else existed in this world beyond the stinging cold on his hide and the great, empty quiet of the frozen valleys which surrounded him. In the years since he'd become an adult, he'd grown quite skilled at such pretending. He was a dragon, a great predator of the highland skies, and yet he was afraid.

How has it come to this, he thought sullenly. The long, heavy folds of his frills pressed close to his neck, an instinctive gesture of shame that doubly served to guard him against the cold. His eyes wandered about the wintry landscape below him, lingering upon the occasional glints of pale light which sometimes reflected up from the ice. At times, his gaze would flick up towards the sky, where he observed the endless banks of pale, grey clouds that hid the sun from him. He blinked as a bit of snow fell into his vision.

I'm hiding from my own family now, from my own kin. Have I become so selfish over these last few years... so desperate to return to the life of freedom that I once had as a drake? Has such hiding ever helped me before?

Yurio had been a sire for nearly five such winters, and these feelings - which were once repressed out of the necessities of fatherhood - had only grown stronger with each passing season. Since his mating with the dragoness Vera in the halls of his esteemed grandfather, he'd sired no less than three healthy daughters: two with Vera herself, and one with his arranged mate, the oft-timid and vainglorious Vale of northern Brera. The young dragon felt a brief stirring in his breast as he considered his daughters. Despite the fact that he'd never wanted to father them in the first place, he couldn't help it if a cheerful glint sprung into his eyes as he recalled their innocent faces, the antics of their silliness and curiosity, their games and childish vices. He loved them, surely. And yet...

And yet, I'm hiding. Hiding from them... and from their mothers.

It was not his daughters, or the responsibilities he had in raising them (which were admittedly few) that had him hiding up in the cold, isolated reaches of the mountaintops. His dragonets were an unexpected joy that he'd neither deserved or expected, and he would not fault them for existing, nor himself for the role he had in creating them. The prospect of having more of them was, however, frightening to him, and all the more so because it was inevitable. It was required of him, as necessary as breathing or eating, and as sure as the coming of spring. He would have to mate again.

Yurio shivered, half from the cold and half from the knowledge that he would have to return home sooner or later. They'd be waiting there for him: his abominable father and his heat-addled mate, both expecting him to perform the responsibilities that his clan demanded of him as a healthy young male. A part of him wished that the snow beneath his belly would just freeze away the required pieces of his anatomy to uselessness, if only to spare himself the humiliation which would soon be upon him. Alas, he had no such luck. His body heat had melted the ice beneath him hours earlier, and as he stood up from his perch upon the cliff, the warm, damp earth below his belly revealed no snow left to be seen.

This body of mine, he thought grimly, stretching out the long, loose folds of his wings to catch upon the frigid winter air. These claws, built for killing those whom nature made weaker than myself. These wings, to fly upon this cold, blasting wind. These tusks and markings, to attract mates I have no desire for. And this - he swiveled his head around, leveling a hateful glance upon the low-slung, heavy cylinder of his sheath and the tucked orbs of his testicles - to make more of us, as though any of us deserved to exist at all.

Then, a brief step off the ledge, and Yurio suddenly plummeted over cliff, diving off into cold, empty space and soaring into the currents with only the slightest adjustment of his wing muscles. For a brief moment he considered plunging into the hard, frozen earth far below, but his cowardice - that same loathsome and powerful force which had compelled him to hide away in the first place - stayed any such an action. He found himself angling westward, homeward, towards the cave where he and his mates had settled five years earlier. It was the coldest day of winter, a day marked among his people for the siring of young, and Yurio steeled himself for his duty.

He dearly loved his daughters. Perhaps a fourth would make him feel better.

---

Flying amidst the alpine heights of the Breran mountains was no great feat for a dragon, even in the midst of the late winter's winds. Yurio's long wings sliced through the frosty air in slow, measured beats as he flew above the snow-capped ranges, and his narrowed, cold-stung eyes marked the passage of each familiar peak as they went underwing. At the speeds that he could reach up there in the unrestrained skies, a brief flight would be enough to carry him from the heights of his hidden retreat to the humble valley of his homestead, and he hurried along. Brief couldn't be brief enough.

As he flew, he passed by the small, wary forms of hungry falcons and circling mountain buzzards, each of whom gave him ample space in the sky. At this late hour of the season, they survived only from the lucky find of an occasional mountain hare or stray, starving fox. They wouldn't have the strength to outfly him if he decided to make a meal out of their thin muscles and brittle bones. Fortunately for them, he couldn't care less about eating; his mind was occupied, reflecting on the differences between his home and the great halls of his grandfather.

Their own cave might have been a far cry from the majestic, subterranean expanses of Alhetztandt, but it had become a home for them, nonetheless. The location of the new family's abode was initially a subject of much discussion and quarreling between Yurio's father and those of his mates, and a great deal of thought had been put into the selection: the altitude of the caves and its effect on any potential egg-rearing, the quantity and health of the local tapa herds, the cave's proximity to neighboring clans, the quality of the nearby river, and so on. Yurio himself had never been consulted in the matter of where he and his family would end up living, but that was of little surprise. His lack of choice in that regard was but one of many that he'd endured over the last several years.

Swooping down from amidst the cover of the cold, grey clouds, the young dragon spiraled into the low-lying valley where their cave was located, following the winding paths of the valley's frozen rivers to their heart. There, nestled amidst groves of snow-capped pines, a small, icy lake sat frozen before the entrance to their home. Vera had spent the last several years widening the cave's mouth in the traditional style of the Alhetzern clan - who enjoyed a sense of 'space' in their living quarters as opposed of the decorative carvings or pilfered trappings of western dragons - and Yurio had plenty of room to fly into it, tucking his wings close to his sides as he landed and entered with a slight skid. Shaking off the cold from his hide, he took in the scents that lingered there in the entrance hall. His nose flared as a warm, nostalgic smell came upon his senses. Just as he'd expected, his father had already arrived.

"Otec!"

A pair of familiar voices suddenly called out to him from deeper within the cave. The shrill outcry of their excitement briefly echoed across the cavern's frost-laden walls, and soon after the soft _tick-tack_of little claws could be heard scampering about in the shadows, coming closer and closer. Then, before Yurio had even properly recovered from the cold, two small shapes leapt out from the darkness and lunged at him, swiftly climbing up his limbs and onto his back.

His two oldest daughters, Van and Veritas, had recently come upon that precious age where dragonets first discovered the strength in their own claws. They regularly made attempts to clamber over anything that they could see or reach... including other dragons. They chirped victoriously as they paraded atop his back, parroting small phrases of glee as they nipped at his feathered frills and the sensitive joints of his wings. Despite the dour mood that he'd held during the frigid flight home, Yurio restrained himself as they pranced atop his shoulders. Rumbling playfully, he returned their bites twofold, snapping harmlessly at their feathery limbs and necks before shrugging them off onto the care-worn floor of the cavern.

When at last he'd freed the little dragonesses and their claws from his shoulders, he gave them each a long, loving lick between their wide eyes. They were both about three meters long from snout to tailtip - hardly tall enough to reach his knees - and covered in fluffy, brilliant feathers of green and white on all places except their little paws and faces. Their plumage would linger on into the early years of their adulthood, changing color to match the season, and fading over time until only a little remained on their joints and neck.

"If you grow any faster," he told them sternly, stepping over their feathered heads as he proceeded into the cavern, "I'll have to dig out a whole new cave for myself, as there wouldn't be any more room for your mothers or I."

The hatchlings tailed after him happily, shooting gleeful glances at one another as they considered the idea. They'd been born nearly a year apart, and yet they almost resembled twins in both their size and appearance, with Veritas's voracious appetite helping her swiftly catch up to her sister's growth.

"A whole cave to ourselves?" she asked hopefully. Her bright, curious eyes gazed up at him in eagerness. At times, the young dragonet looked so much like her mother that it left Yurio speechless. "Iv pravda?"

"Pravda," he affirmed, giving her a loving smile before turning to face the winding tunnels of their home. "Now tell me... has your grandfather arrived? Is Yorin here?"

Van, his eldest hatchling, gave her father's tail a playful nip as she followed him into the darkness, hoping to attract his attention for another bout of play. She was a precocious little creature, always needy and hungry for affection.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed happily, pausing between words to bite at Yurio's tail and hind legs. "He went down to see mother! And he brought basilisk meat! Fresh basilisk meat, from Buru! Can you even imagine?"

Yurio withheld a rude snort at the question. Basilisks were dangerous prey, and not the sort of thing that one would hunt while on a casual visit to their child's cave. Old superstition among the Alhetzern clan held that the consumption of fresh basilisk meat would make a male more virile, assuring that their hatchlings were born stronger in both wing and claw. Yurio couldn't decide whether the present was a jab at his masculinity, or simply his father's attachment to the traditional beliefs of their family. It didn't please him in either case.

Still, he withheld his annoyance for little Van's sake. She continued to talk over his silence, chirping to him at length about the size of the basilisk, how grandfather had carried it in his jaws like it was a toy, how big grandfather's claws were, how he smelled, and all manner of other impressions that he'd left upon the hatchling. Yurio allowed her to continue, tolerating her and her sister's pestering until at last the light of the winter evening had left them entirely, and they'd come upon the cave's true interior. Here, a dragon could only get by through scent and touch. The dragonets clung to his tail as they chattered, letting his keener senses guide them as they approached the nest chamber where Vera, Vale, his youngest daughter Viridian, and his father Yorin doubtlessly awaited. He paused when the rock beneath his claws began to feel rough and unpolished. The deepest chambers had only recently been dug.

"Alright, little ones," he said sternly, shaking them off from his tail. "Scamper along back up to the mouth. You've no business in the nest at your age."

Protests immediately followed suit, but a soft growl on his part was enough to put a stop to that nonsense, and soon the hatchlings were feeling their way back upwards. It was for the best; they were far too young to witness the business that their grandfather had come to ensure, and at any rate, he'd preserve their innocence in that matter for as long as he could. Steeling himself, the young dragon took a deep breath and a stepped forward.

By ancient Alhetzern tradition, the egg-chamber of a clan was usually found in the deepest and most secure halls of the family's home-cave. There, nested in beds of fallen feathers and pine needles, surrounded by familiar scents, a family's fertile females could rest in safety while they nurtured newly-hatched dragonets. Sunlight was usually an impossibility in such depths, and so the dragons of Brera had long since devised means of making their egg-chambers more navigable as a matter of course. Vera and Vale were no different in this regard.

For the last several years his mates had been carefully cultivating small gardens of bioluminescent mushrooms along niches and alcoves in their cavern - Vale's mother had given them a few stalks as gifts for her first mating - and by now a veritable forest of the fungi bloomed along the walls. Soft, blue lightning illuminated the roughly-carved walls and feather-lined floors of the chamber as Yurio entered. In the weak lightning, he could just make out the faces of the other four dragons who'd been waiting for him in the shadows.

His mates were both younger than he. Vale had been his first, arranged in a pact with another clan to avoid stagnation of the bloodlines and to ensure the peaceful transition of migrating tapa herds which roamed from territory to territory. She was small for her age. A large majority of her adolescent feathers still lingered on her thin neck and joints. Like many young dragonesses, she was vain and prone to wistful preening. Even as Yurio entered the chamber, she paid him little more than a hateful glance, busy as she was with the maintenance of her feathers and claws. Yurio suspected that she'd long wished for a different set of circumstances. In many regards, she was as trapped in this family as he was.

Vera, on the other paw, hadn't been given to him in the traditional manner. She'd been an unexpected addition to the family, attached to his newly-fledged household as a last minute gift from the patriarch of his clan, Yolh the Greater. She was the mother of both Van and Veritas, and she was considerably more patient than her nest-sister. She rarely spoke, but her eyes were bright and full of emotion. She watched from the shadows as Yurio entered, pity plain upon her attractive features.

And of course, seated between them on the high, rocky rise of the nest, was his father. Yorin Alhetzern paid no attention to his son as the younger male entered the room, concerned as he was with the tiny, fledgling dragonet that was ambling about between his two massive paws. Vesper was Vale's first hatchling. She was small and fretful like her mother, and too young yet to speak or safely leave the cave. Until just recently, Vale had been extremely protective of the hatchling, and she'd allowed none other than herself, her own parents, and Yorin to handle her. Even then, as she pretended to busy herself with her preening, she shot regular glares at Yorin, mindful of his every movement.

"I often wonder," his father suddenly said, his deep, baritone rumble causing the little hatchling to squeak in surprise. "Why the ancestors cursed me with you, Yurio."

The older male looked up from the antics of his granddaughter to stare down at Yurio. He was many decades older than his son, a few feet taller and longer in every dimension, and heavy in both paunch and muscle. His massive tusks were still tinged pink from the basilisk that he'd killed earlier; Yurio noticed that the corpse had been left half-eaten in the corner of the room.

"Vale tells me that you've been hiding in the cliffs. Hiding, as though you were a mere hatchling... as though the responsibilities of your family were some trifle to be ignored. We've been over this before, haven't we?"

Yurio said nothing, instead moving to inspect the body of the basilisk that lay curled up in the corner. It was indeed an impressive specimen. The beast was nearly half his length from snout-to-tailtip, and its mottled, russet hide showed many scars from the battles that it'd won against its own kind. He sniffed delicately at the bloody flesh of its torn wounds, curling his lip at the harsh scent. He rarely ate intelligent meat when he could afford not to. The thought of using another body to fuel his own rankled at some core part of him.

"Are you going to say something, dít? I am waiting."

Yurio leaned down, snatching a bit of flesh off the basilisk's leg before quickly swallowing it. The meat had grown cold and stiff in the interim, and it slid down into his belly with a sour, unpleasant weight. He doubted whether there was any real merit to the ancient traditions in this matter; it certainly didn't make him feel any more potent... especially in any regards to mating. All the same, he couldn't openly rebuff the gift in his father's presence. He took another bite to make sure that Yorin saw.

"There is nothing to be said," he muttered quietly between mouthfuls, forcing another hunk of the cold, wet meat down into his gullet. The taste of cold, oily blood sat heavy upon his tongue, invading the corners of his mouth.

"I am here, and you are here, and Vale is in heat. Let us be done with the matter."

Yorin huffed indignantly at his son's candor. With a gentle, sweeping motion of his paw, he pushed the little dragonet back into Vale's waiting claws, where she was then swiftly blanketed beneath coils of hide and the folds of her warm, leathery wings.

"You could at least pretend to be grateful," he rumbled, stepping off from the ledge as he dropped down to the floor below. "I flew all the way here in this miserable weather to help you do what any _proper_male should by instinct be able to accomplish. I would have expected some civility, but it seems I'll have to make do without."

Despite the height and weight that Yurio had gained since leaving his parents' nest, his father still outclassed him in nearly every measurable facet. This, of course, only became more apparent as the older dragon came to stand before him. Yurio kept his head bowed low as the larger male approached, both because it was a traditional posture of respect, and because he wouldn't, couldn't, look his father in the eyes before they began. When at last Yorin stopped in front of him, he could only see the other dragon's paws.

Even after all these years... he's still so much more than me...

Yurio gulped heavily. His father's claws were far thicker and sharper than his own, and their tips were darkened with flecks of dirt and dried blood. As though the older dragon could sense his thoughts, Yorin lifted one of those colossal paws, settling its weight down over his own.

"So soft," he rumbled. Even when whispering, that voice of his thundered low and hard, causing Yurio's frills to press back tightly against his neck. It was an involuntary reaction to the sound, as instinctual as the shivers that he'd made when covered in snow. The voice flattened him like a wave, and he wanted to buckle beneath it.

"You should have been born a female... soft, tender little hatchling. Just look at how you're quivering_._ You can't even help yourself."

Yorin wasn't lying. With another male so close to him, touching him, Yurio couldn't help but feel intoxicated, both thrilled and full of dread all at once. Once again he was reminded of the reason why his father had come to them so late in the dead of winter, the reason why his mates resented him, why his family shamed him and kept him from the decision-making processes of his own clan. He was milovník muzi, a 'lover of males', born with that inherent and irreparable malfunction which could, if unaddressed, end the proud lineage of a clan which had otherwise endured for centuries. He was ill-suited to the task which nature had shackled upon his shoulders, and it couldn't be more obvious when compared to a natural stud like his sire.

"That's enough, father," Yurio finally said, ashamed of how breathless he was beginning to sound. They had hardly done more than touch one another. "I've heard it all already. Vale is waiting."

In the darkness of the cave's rear corner, the dragoness in question glowered at them both, staring daggers even while her prized hatchling scampered about innocently between her paws. The stink of her heat filled every corner of the chamber. It saturated the rock and earth, impossible to ignore, and despite Yurio's proclivities it was enough to make even his blood rush and his teeth chatter noisily. He could only imagine how much it chafed her to be in such a humiliating position, to watch her own mate go to such lengths in order to breed with her. She fumed in silence, watching from the shadows as her father's mate prepared him for her.

"You're right," Yorin said gruffly. He snapped his jaws loudly beside Yurio's ear, drawing a flinch from the drake before turning brusquely to his side. There, he merely raised his left leg in the air, lifting it aside so that the smaller male could have what he needed. The older dragon's face took on an emotionless, resolute expression then; his eyes fixated on some small, imperceptible spot upon the rocky wall. He stood still. Yurio, for his part, only looked dutifully downwards.

He'd reflected earlier on the differences in size between his father and himself, but when it came to what lay between their hind legs, the facts of the matter were only reinforced further. Yorin's sheath hung heavily towards the floor of the cavern as he waited for him, the soft, leathery tube wobbling gently with the older dragon's every movement. The thick scent of his musk had been apparent to Yurio from the moment that he'd stepped down from the nest, but here, so close, it was pungent enough to almost be tasted. His nostrils flared once, twice, as he took in his father's rich, earthy scent. He felt his own sheath throb as he absorbed it into his lungs.

"Get on with it," Yorin growled. He was clearly more affected by the stench of Vale's heat than Yurio was. By his own granddaughter's account, he'd been stewing in it for some time already, forced to wait as it grew thick upon his tongue and burned deep in his lungs. His mottled cock - already heavy with basilisk-enriched blood - had stirred several inches out of its sheath, and it glistened with natural oils in the faint, blue light of the mushrooms. Yurio took a long, deep breath of that scent before finally willing himself forward. His neck bent below his father's raised leg, beneath the heavy paunch of his sides, and then down towards the thing that had sired him.

It never takes long, he told himself as he moved closer. He tried to ignore the fact that Vale was staring at him from the dark corner of the chamber. Mercifully, she was the only one watching. Near her, Vera politely pretended to groom herself, and little Vesper continued innocently with her romping, far too young to understand what was occurring before her.

Just a bit of work, a bit of effort... this is for the best, isn't it? I should be grateful.

His muzzle stopped inches away from its goal. Yorin's malehood was now fully engorged, and nearly a meter of throbbing, heavy dragon flesh now steamed in front of his snout. Behind it, his father's balls were already tight in their leathery sack, with both fat, potent orbs resting gently at the base of his sheath. The sight of all this had the intended effect upon Yurio, and between his own legs he could feel his body shamefully responding in kind. Unfortunately, he knew from experience that it wasn't enough simply to be aroused. More effort would have to be undertaken if he wanted to sire a hatchling. Taking a deep breath - and inadvertently bringing in more of his father's musk into his lungs - he brought his lips forward and engulfed Yorin's shaft.

His bravery was rewarded by a low, gravelly groan from the dragon above him, and by the rich, flavorful taste of that life-giving meat as it slid down against his tongue. He felt it throb mightily against his lips, and shortly after a burst of bitter flavor rolled across his pallet. He swallowed it. Then another, and another as his tongue got to work. All the while he tried his hardest to block out the sounds that his father made, instead working that thick shaft with his long, inexperienced tongue. His lips pressed up against the bunched, leathery hide of his father's sheath in a crude kiss, and he sucked in deep lungfuls of Yorin's musk directly from the source.

"Yes, that's right," Yorin grumbled, shifting his hips to pump another few inches back and forth along his son's throat. He kept his eyes focused upon the wall in front of him, but they'd grown heavy-lidded in pleasure, and his tongue crudely hung from his jaws as he worked himself forwards and back. "Ughhhh... lahodné... you've gotten better at this."

It was not so long ago, Yurio recalled, that his father had resented the necessity of such unions. When they'd first attempted this unusual little ritual of theirs, it'd been a hasty and ill-conceived affair. They'd quarreled over how it should be done, over who would mount who, with Vera demanding satiation all the while, and all of it ending in a flurry of snapping jaws, panicked moments of pleasure, and spilled seed. Amazingly, that clumsy attempt had resulted in the siring of Veritas, a miracle that Yurio was still amazed at and grateful for. It was the siring of Vesper however, that taught them patience. This contrivance - this work of muzzle and tongue - was one such invention which came from that affair. It was certainly something that no males would ever consider otherwise.

Further. We're almost there...

His father trembled atop him as Yurio's tongue suddenly slipped down into the older dragon's sheath. The taste of him there was raw and potent, and Yorin's outstretched leg shuddered briefly as his son's tongue danced along the hidden root of his cock. Another powerful throb pulsed along his length, no doubt depositing something further to follow suit of the basilisk that Yurio had eaten earlier. By now, Yorin was thrusting easily into Yurio's waiting mouth, gently rolling his hips and letting his son's hesitant tongue and lips do their work. If one were observing like Vale, one might have even assumed that the purpose of their union was to give the older dragon release. It was not, however.

Throughout his endeavors, Yurio's sensitive nose was constantly pressed up against the smooth, musky hide of his father's crotch. Every breath he took brought a fresh wave of pheromones directly into his system. It worked through his blood like fire, rushing through every vein in swift waves of heat and dizzying need, and down below, his cock had begun to leak copiously onto the rocky floor. His own eyes had fogged over in lust; he was as helpless to resist the reactions of his body as Vale was to deny her heat. By allowing him to do this, Yorin was getting him ready to mate.

Throb. Another heavy pulse pushed its way down Yorin's cock, this time accompanied by a guttural, barely-restrained sound from his father. Suddenly, with a swift, backwards yank, the older dragon's shaft was pulled roughly from Yurio's throat, leaving the smaller male coughing and sputtering in confusion. From there, Yorin quickly stepped away from his son, panting hoarsely. A desperate, savage look sat upon his face. Drool seeped openly from his parted jaws, spattering messily against the floor.

"You're ready," he said between breaths. His eyes narrowed down upon his son's erect dragonhood, and he pulled up a paw to wipe at his wet lips. "Vale, get down here. We won't have long."

Despite her own distaste for the scene, the dragoness did as she was told, tucking her hatchling into the furthest shelf of her nest before making her way down towards them. She eyed them both hungrily; Yurio had no doubt that she would have taken either of them - or perhaps both - if tradition allowed for such a thing. As it was, she assumed the expected position immediately after reaching the floor, raising her tail and turning her rear to face them. Vera, up in her own perch, tried not to look amused her nest-sister's eagerness as she dismounted from her own perch. She left the room without a word, giving Yurio only the briefest brush of her wingtip as a sign of support before leaving them to their business.

"Get on with it already," Vale hissed, tossing her head back to regard Yurio cruelly. Her eyes were wild and hateful, both despising and covetous. Even if Yurio wasn't the mate that she'd wanted as a young dragoness, she couldn't help but desire him when she was so deep in the grip of her heat. It was the only time of year that she'd see any serviceable pleasure not provided by her own tongue or claws. The puffy, enflamed lips of her sex were perfectly visible to Yurio in the muted light of the mushrooms. His cock flexed instinctively even as he looked at it in apprehension.

"It aches," she growled. "Kurva, it aches... get it in me!"

Yurio knew from experience that he'd need to act quickly, while his father's scent still burned fresh in his lungs. Half the trick was finishing with the matter while his body was still confused and excited. Pushing past Yorin without meeting his gaze, he swiftly approached his mate and mounted her back without any hesitation. His claws scrambled clumsily at her hips, but only for a brief moment, and he righted himself by grabbing at her thin waist and pulling her close to him. His tail thrashed about for balance, and she snapped up at him impatiently, cursing him, begging him. Then a thrust, deep and sharp, drawing gasps from both of them as he sheathed himself fully inside of her depths. The hard part was over.

"Unhhh, there... there, it's in. Be still," he told her gently. She hissed softly, but made no further complaints.

She was so warm. The tight, inner muscles of her sex clenched needily around him, pulling him further inside even as he shifted his hind paws and tried to balance himself. He'd only been on top of her for a moment, and yet her wetness was already smearing against the hide of his sheath and balls, dripping down from their conjoined bodies to plop noisily upon the floor. Her heated cunny suckled greedily upon him, drawing out his pre-seed to soothe the aching need deep within her.

For a brief time, Yurio merely stood still, adjusting to the slick confines of his mate, to her heat and tightness. Vale writhed beneath him. The noises that she made were softer now, pleading. He answered them, thrusting again and listening to the hike in her sweet voice as the tip of his cock wedged gently against the barrier to her womb. Then again, pulling out and repeating the movement. Once, twice, again and again, renewing the pleasure with quick, thoughtless, instinctual movements. He was breeding her.

This is right, he thought dimly, doing his best to convince himself of the idea as his narrow hips swung forward and backwards. Yorin's taste still lingered upon his tongue, the earthen, masculine flavor edging him onwards even as his nose was assaulted by fresh waves of female pheromones. His eyes fogged over, staring at nothing as he focused upon the sensations, the smell of sex, the taste.

This feels good... this is...what?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as he felt his father's touch against his side, and he turned his head sharply to see Yorin standing there beside him, closely regarding he and Vale's conjoined bodies as though their union was just a spectacle for his own amusement. Ignoring his son's terrified expression, the older dragon leaned in to take a cursory sniff at the growing puddle of juices which pooled between their legs, even sampling it with his tongue before turning to watch the mating. His semi-flaccid cock still swung heavily from its sheath; a fat drop of pre hung from it for a brief second, lazily suspended before its weight eventually brought it oozing slowly to the ground.

"Please," Yurio begged. His quiet, wavering voice was barely audible over the sound of his hips smacking into Vale's. "You don't... you don't need to watch. I don't need your help this time. Just let me finish."

The larger male made a curt sound deep in his throat. His narrowed eyes followed the swift, eager motions of his son's body, watching as Yurio's full testicles bumped roughly against Vale's snatch with each thrust. A feral look briefly swept across his muzzle.

"You said much the same when you tried to sire Veritas. I'll do as I must to ensure that this breeding takes properly."

Moving up to Vale's front, Yorin then presented himself to the young dragoness, stepping over her bowed head and low shoulders to stand face-to-face with his son atop her body. To Yurio's surprise, Vale took the offer willingly, greedily arching her neck upwards to nuzzle at the other male's slick shaft. With both of them now standing over Vale's smaller form, the differences in their respective sizes were once again reinforced. Yurio's face paled as their eyes met. He couldn't stop, even with his father so brazenly involving himself; if he pulled out now, he'd have to go through the whole ordeal again from scratch.

"Father," he started, shamefully looking down at Vale's writhing hips. "I can't do this while you're staring at me."

For all that he claimed otherwise, he still desperately continued on with his thrusting, trying his hardest to let the slick, warm confines of Vale's body bring him closer to his climax. It was difficult to concentrate however, listening to the soft sounds which came out from beneath his father's body, and knowing what Vale was doing to him. Yorin stared him down all the while. A thin rivulet of drool flowed wetly from one corner of his maw, dripping down a tusk.

"Please otec... you'll make me go soft."

His father scowled at that. With a curt grunt, he thrust his hips forward slightly, earning a gagged sound from down below them. "Enough of your whining," he growled. "Tend to your mate, lest you be the one that's treated like a female in heat."

Despite the morbid shame that the suggestion gave him, Yurio's cock still jumped hard at his father's words. He doubled down on his efforts, clutching at Vale's waist as he bucked into her. His sheath met the soft, wet folds of her body with every impact, drawing shudders from them both. He knew that he was getting close. He just had to concentrate. He just had to ignore him.

"Or perhaps," his father continued. "You would prefer that?"

Yorin leaned in close, whispering into Yurio's long, soft ear. His father's breath was warm and acrid against his cheek. "I'd like to wager that you've thought about it, haven't you? Bending over like a female, letting another male have you. Breeding you."

Yurio had, in fact. Such thoughts had crossed his mind nearly every mating season, every time that he'd been forced to breed like this. He'd spent long, heated hours considering what it might feel like. Even now, with his shaft buried down to the hilt within the fertile folds of a female, he could imagine himself in her place, submitting to the masculine weight of another male atop his back. In the deepest reaches of such taboo thoughts, his mind cycled through faces, thoughts of strong, male bodies...

A brief flash of imagery plowed through Yurio's mind. He saw his own father atop him in that moment, saw in clarion detail that hideous, drooling muzzle resting against his own while their hips pressed closely together in union. The thought sent a sudden shudder down along his spine, and his balls suddenly pulled up tightly into his body. He moaned weakly, almost falling over into bliss. His head arched up on its long neck, only to bump up into the bottom of his father's muzzle. To his surprise, Yorin didn't recoil away from the contact; instead, the older dragon let him stay there, allowing his son to huff desperately into the crook of his neck.

"You're trembling," the older dragon rumbled. He gave Yurio's ear a long, tender lick. "You must be very close now... good. I'm not far off myself. Your mate is very talented with her muzzle."

Yurio's heart hammered loudly in his chest. He no longer heard the soft sound of his testicles patting against Vale's rear. They were likely already raised to the point of no return. He keened softly, suddenly opening his jaws up to lap at the hide of his father throat. He could taste the slickness of his skin, wet with sweat and tinted with the saturating aromas of Vale's heat. His father was also shuddering, and light trembles rocked his massive, heavy frame. Below him, the sound of Vale's exertions quickened. Wet, slurping sounds filled the egg-chamber.

"I should give it to her," Yorin rumbled softly. His own voice was nearly cracking from pleasure. "I should. But I wonder if you don't deserve it more."

Yurio's eyes widened in horror at the suggestion. To do what he suggested - to spill life-giving seed into another male - was beyond reasoning. It simply wasn't done. He tried to pull his head away in denial, but his father merely growled, and he went still.

"You're going to breed her, Yurio," he said. "You're going to father another egg... and when you're done..."

He placed his muzzle close to the smaller dragon's ear.

"I'm going to treat you like the female you've always deserved to be."

The promise would have been enough to send him over the edge, even if Vale's vice-like grip upon his shaft hadn't chosen that particular moment to clench down upon him. Uttering a weak, shuddering moan, Yurio felt himself surrender into his mate's body. With his sheath pressed tightly against the lips of her sex and his cock-tip snugly affixed to the entrance of her womb, his climax rolled out of him in long, blissful waves. His mouth hung open as each violent pulse wracked his body, from the root of his balls to the tips of his wings, filling Vale's egg-chamber with rich, heavy spurts of life-giving seed. A new blossom of warmth filled the tight spaces of her confines, quickly spreading to every fertile corner of her depths.

One... two... three... four... five... six...

Vale must've released his father from her muzzle; he could hear her down below, groaning and sighing softly with every rope that he pushed into her womb. Yorin looked on all the while, watching Yurio with a smugly satisfied expression as his son continued to release into his mate. It was only after the twelfth pulse had been squeezed out of him that Yurio recalled himself, and what he'd accomplished. He began to pull away, only for his father to growl again and nip him on the frill. The smaller dragon made a weak sound of protest.

"Hey! W-what did I do wrong? I'm finished! Let me off her."

Judging by the look on his father's face, Yorin would allow no such thing. Climbing off from atop Vale's front, he maneuvered around towards their rears. From his current position, Yurio couldn't see what his father was doing, but soon enough he could feel the older dragon's hot breath upon the soft, delicate skin of his taint and testicles. Then a wet sound, and both he and Vale shuddered as Yorin's broad tongue swept across the exposed flesh of their genitals.

"Unhhh! It's done! You can see that! Are you s-satisfied now?" Yurio finally asked, failing to keep his voice from faltering. Yorin snorted, sending another shiver up his son's arched spine.

"Perhaps..."

Then, without a word of warning, Yorin mounted him. The sudden, added weight of another male was more than enough to flatten poor Vale, and her slender limbs were helpless to hold up the larger dragons as they landed atop her. She fell with a weak grunt, and Yurio was forced to release her and brace himself as his sire straddled him in an all-too-similar position. There was no opportunity to escape; Yorin was too large and heavy to throw off, and if he was clumsy in his attempt to slip away, he might inadvertently fall and crush Vale. Instead, he could only stand still, his limbs trembling as his father mounted him like a female.

"What are you doing?"

Yurio's voice was hardly a whisper. Yorin didn't immediately respond, instead wiggling his broad hips around as he aligned himself with his son's hole. The younger dragon's tail had already been pulled up and aside, exposing the messy results of what he and Vale had accomplished. He was still buried nearly to the hilt inside of her.

"Giving you what you deserve," Yorin said matter-of-factly. "Now stay still."

Of course Yurio had no intention of doing that, but the firm, sharp grip of his father's fangs upon his left ear cut short any thoughts of resistance. It was in that state - with his eyes wide, an expression of fear and confusion stamped upon his muzzle, and his body still entwined with the prone form of his mate - that his father took him. Despite the countless daydreams, the expectations of pleasure and satisfaction that he thought would mirror what a female must have felt, he experienced none of those things. This wasn't what he wanted.

This is what you deserve.

Yorin had already been brought nearly to completion by Vale's earlier efforts, and in truth he didn't last long inside of Yurio's inexperienced tail-hole. The whole affair took no more than a minute, if not slightly shorter than that. His father's thick, sharp claws scratched bloody rivets into the muscles of Yurio's haunches, and that heavy form slid clumsily atop the fragile tendons of his folded wings as Yorin bucked into his son with quick, deep thrusts. His muzzle hung over Yurio's own, and occasionally a fat drop of drool would plop down onto the other male's cheek or neck, hot and thick. His father's preseed was so copious that the pain of his rough, dry entrance was swiftly replaced with warm, fluid pleasure. The slick sounds of mating issued from their union, almost indistinguishable from what had occurred earlier.

Yurio couldn't pull himself out from Vale. In fact, he found himself pressed even further within her with every thrust that his father gave him. Vale shuddered and made soft, whimpering sounds below them, and despite how savage she had been with him earlier, Yurio still found the heart to lean down and comfort her, gently licking at her cheek. He could only imagine how humiliating this was for her, to be at the root of this ridiculous affair. He whispered softly to her, reminding her that she would be a mother again soon. Yorin's massive shaft rubbed roughly at some core place deep within him, and his cock flexed inside of her. He knew that he was about to seed her again.

Yurio reached that climax just before his father, weakly surrendering another load inside of his mate as the older dragon vigorously pounded into his inexperienced prostate. He turned Vale's head and kissed her briefly as the warmth of his release washed over him, muted and heavy. Above them, Yorin roared thunderously as he hit his own peak, and Yurio felt for the first time the unmistakable warmth of a male's seed inside of his belly. His father was prodigious; Yurio could feel each hot, heavy pulse, pumped one after another from the older dragon's larger and more capable testicles. Yurio didn't dwell on it, focusing his attention on Vale.

"It's alright," he whispered to her, even as his father continued his roar, a deafening bellow that shook the cavern. "You're alright, it's done now... it's done, and you-"

His words of comfort suddenly caught in his throat, and pain unlike anything he had ever felt shot across his shoulder. On instinct, he tried to buck his father off, and his head whirled around to see the damage that'd been done to him. To his horror, he saw that Yorin had savagely clamped his muzzle onto the tender joint of his wing, and with a savage twist, his father rent both muscle and bone, popping the joint from his shoulder with a horrible sound.

The pain stunned him. Yurio would have expected himself to scream, or shriek, or make some sort of protest, but he didn't. No sound escaped from him. Then the heavy, clawed weight of a massive paw struck his skull, once and again, swatting at the base of his neck and the side of his head, and there was no room for thoughts of pain or screaming. His vision went white, and suddenly he was on the floor, with Vale desperately trying to scramble out from beneath him. At some point, his father must've pulled out of him; when Yurio's vision cleared, he was already standing by the exit of the chamber.

"Well enough," he growled darkly. Blood and drool slid messily from the corners of his muzzle. His cock - slick but quickly softening - was already retreating back into its sheath. "There'll be no more hiding now, you miserable little whelp. You'll stay in this cave and tend to your mates, or by the ancestors... it'll be your throat next."

Then the older male stormed out of the chamber without another word. Vale finally wrenched herself free, but to her credit, she immediately saw to his care. The last thing Yurio saw before his vision faded once more was her face, her eyes white with terror as she fretted over him, licking at his wounds and apologizing. The shrill sounds of her panic swiftly brought little Veritas over to them from her nest, and Yurio watched through half-lidded eyes as the tiny dragonet ambled over to them, curious and afraid. He wished that he had the strength to carry himself away, to save her from seeing her father in such a sorry state.

Alas, if his wishes could come true, many things would have been different. The pain in his wing washed away with the last of his thoughts as he slipped into a murky state of unconsciousness. It was a mercy

Here, he could find some measure of peace, for a time.