Lair Intruder
This is a story for art collab that Nulkurrak has done with Tastywyrm
Description: At the height of her heat, a wyverness prepares to leave the familiarity of her colony to strike into the world, but not before erasing the traces of her existence so that another wyvern may inhabit her former lair.
Asharya (c) belongs to Nulkurrak
Tawyr (c) belongs to Tastywyrm https://www.furaffinity.net/user/tastywyrm/
Artwork done by Godzi: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/godzi15/
***Lair Intruder***
Asharya's talons scratched at the sodden ledge of her lair for purchase, her unsteady and fatigued limbs finding it difficult to remain firm. Her head still whirled, as if she was still being thrown about in the sky by fierce gusts, forcing her wing claws to come down and steady her swaying form. Although the storm had spent most of its might, its lingering strength still nudged at her bulk, unbalancing the weary and frustrated wyvern. If only the cold could quell the restless heat simmering between her haunches...
Asharya had tried that once. Belly up, she splayed in a clearing together with Yrragal who, for reasons she couldn't fathom, joined her as if he was in heat himself, eager for the pattering rain to fall upon his soaked underbelly. While it helped alleviate the constant, dull pulsing of her sweltering vent, Yrragal's redundant presence and unstoppable quips maintained the fires of her lust at full strength. Before long, her nether region drooled that strong-scented, translucent honey that enraptured Yrragal's senses, and in the end, it was his tongue, not the rain, that had temporarily soothed her crave.
The wyverness' heat-drenched sex quivered in remembrance of how fulfilling his prehensile appendage felt. Of how her scales rattled, brimming with satisfaction when she flipped him over, so that she could take his twitching, stiff, reluctant length into herself. She did not wish his seed to bathe her fertile womb any more than he wanted to sire her hatchlings, but in that instant, instinct had blanketed all but her feral need to breed. If it wasn't for Yrragal's strong limbs shoving her off him, she would have remained at his side as his mate instead of a dark and blue speck against a cold, indifferent mountainside she now visited for one final time.
Her fluttering heart still held onto the hope that he had followed her; that he had braved winds that might dash him against the cliffs for a chance at changing her mind. But it was Yrragal's acceptance of her choices that flared her emotions to unsettling intensity while in his presence. Yrragal's trust in her that guided the wyverness over his limp form to take him into the very depths of her body, and Yrragal's rational side that had interrupted their mating. Despite his barely contained desire to share his seed with her, Yrragal understood that the bond of affection outlasted the bond of necessity between wyverns; that bearing hatchlings would tie Asharya to a land she did not yet grow to appreciate, let alone love.
That was why she had to leave, and why he wouldn't come to drape a wing over her trembling form and guide her into her lair with warm, tender licks for one final night. Unlike her heat-addled mind, he understood the necessity of her journey beyond their colony and how her ties to him and their family would prevent it.
But when she finally returned, would he still wait for her, as agreed?
Asharya shook her serpentine neck, both to rid herself of the water pooled on her scales and dismiss that needlessly paralyzing fear. She belonged to him, and he pledged himself to her one too many unnecessary times. An incursion into new lands and territories wouldn't change that for a male who had shared his first seed with her any more than a day out hunting could. For better or worse, her course was now set, and all that remained to do was to incinerate her first nest and all the memories that dwelled within it so that another wyvern could claim her former home as theirs.
Not even one step into the familiar confines of her cavern, and Asharya's even footsteps halted on the smooth, sodden floor. Her relaxed posture shifted, head drawing back, wings falling at her sides for extra leverage to give extra push to her possible leap on her unsuspecting foe. Above the curtain of thick, humid miasma of fresh rain mixed with older, stagnant heat seeped into numerous pelts cushioning her nest hung a richer smell. A foreign one.
That of a male.
Her eyes yet to adjust to the darkness of her cave, Asharya's lips tensed into an instinctive snarl. Although the musty scent of soaked wyvern masked it somewhat, Asharya still discerned the unmistakable musk that oozed from his nether regions, bearing the pungent, tangy odor of loneliness. Whoever he was, this male's member must have been more than halfway out, leaking droplets of strong-scented precum into a nest embellished with the inviting scents that drew him here.
That realization relaxed her lips, allowing them to fall over her sharp, menacing fangs. The arch of her back lessened, wings falling closer to her sides, tail swishing behind her in wide, intrigued arcs. As the final clouds dispersed, stark moonlight peered into the mouth of her lair, basking the huddled form of the newcomer with an icy, enchanting aura.
This wasn't a wyvern, but little more than a whelp, his breaths so steady and even she could settle next to him and join him in pleasant slumber without rousing him to awareness. He had his wings tight about him to blanket the pebbly scales of his flanks from the sharp bite of cool breeze, and kept his tail curled as far as it allowed to clutch the tip in his paw. Asharya often did that herself, finding it quite effective in kneading at a textured surface with her toes to help distract herself to sleep.
Unlike the fan of spikes lining the back of her jaw, this one sported a webbing colored not too dissimilar from some of the grapes humans grew, a lush burgundy present on the webbing of his wings as well. His horns stood downright unimpressive compared to hers, ridged and stubby, barely bigger than the dark grey spikes protecting the scruff of his neck from life-threatening bites.
Intrigued rather than offended with his trespass on her final night here, Asharya's tail tip inched forth, prodding at his neck. The light touch earned her nothing but a flinch. The second, more persistent attempt was met with a dismissive flick of his wing, and at the third, the male shifted and groaned, his lazy tail making it only halfway in her direction before it embraced his belly a second time.
What a foolish, ignorant hatchling. Whatever colony spawned him was better off now that his feeble, stagnant seed could no longer taint their females. Should she wait a little longer, Asharya was certain the shudders of impending climax would overtake the male, and that the sharp, choking stench of his first seed would sting her nostrils. The thought of watching his paws clutch and caress his member flared the prickle of need under her tail, enough to bolster the notion of rubbing herself against the impassive snout of the trespasser. The storm might have brought him here, but her heat kept him, so why not drown his tongue in the persistent slime that she had drooled for days?
"Care to make room for me?" She asked, keeping her voice low, charming, almost affectionate.
The male's snoring lessened. His neck straightened, head tilting back to peer at her with a drowsy, half-closed eye.
"Mmmm," he hummed, shifting further to the edge of the oblong nest enclosed by twigs adorned with scented herbs. It fit Asharya just right, leaving enough room on the edges for her paws to avoid stirring her work, and for the smaller male, it worked even better. The furs fully cushioned his smaller frame, and his shorter wings didn't snag on the further reaching branches.
"As in, remove yourself," Asharya added a commanding tone to her request, one that did not go ignored this time around.
Finally brought to awareness, the little wyvern yelped in surprise, throwing wood against the walls of her cave in his rush to flip on his back and surrender his tawny belly to her, half-erect member included.
"I sought--I sought shelter," he whimpered out his excuse, his pupils immediately thinning within the agape cerulean pools. "The storm grew ever stronger, pushing me ever closer to the mountains, forcing to find refuge wherever I could."
"Most curious. There are several other gapes in this mountain, empty for the taking, yet you aimed for the highest, smallest, most treacherous one in your situation." Asharya made sure to let her gaze linger on his shaft to test for his reaction. Whether he was stunned or simply shameless, the male's eyes remained fixated on her while his unsheathed pole further grew and hardened, the spade-shaped head acquiring a fuller shape, the ridges underlining it becoming sharper, more defined.
"In these parts, flaunting your member to females gets it bitten off if you're fortunate or mauled beyond recognition if they feel particularly irate with your vulgar display."
"Rek!" he yowled in frightful understanding, flopping onto his belly to hide his erection with little regard to his comfort. Fortunately, no toe claw caught it, so he merely squeezed it against her furs, further lathering them with his musky precum. With no belly to show her, the male chose the next best thing by lowering on his stomach and pushing his legs behind him, so that his paws faced the ceiling. His wings stretched far to the sides to emphasize his harmless intentions, his head bowing so low his snout kissed her furs.
"I...didn't mean for it to..." he said, pausing to sniff the stale yet still stimulating heat entrapped within her bedding, inhaling it despite the nerves coursing through him. "It comes out when I sleep. It always does!"
How such a specimen made it to her territory unmolested, Asharya would never know. Perhaps his parents placed too deep a trust in him, or perhaps they believed his future mate would further unlock the secrets of his body. Either way, his ignorance of how the opposite gender triggered his lusts amused her more than it offended her, for it reminded her of how utterly shocked Yrragal was when his seed had burst out of him for the first time as soon as his tip penetrated her vent.
"Perhaps you should be more careful with it then. Catch it against a branch, and no female within these parts would ever take you. Males who harm their malehood don't inspire much confidence, do they?"
"I...suppose," he said after a full minute of thick silence during which he allowed his pounding heartbeats to speak on his behalf. "I'll...take better care of it."
How she would have loved to see that! A dare hovered on the tip of her tapered tongue, itching to sail into the humid atmosphere enclosed within the concave walls of her cave. More interested in letting his anxiety run its course, Asharya said nothing herself, continuing to study her quarry.
His nose horn captivated her, as did the interesting row of fine spikes decorating his jaws. Unfortunate that licks in that region would scrape his future mate's tongue raw. Yrragal purred the deepest when she paid attention to that area, savoring their closeness as much as he cherished the caress of her tongue.
More at ease with the intruder, Asharya strolled into her home, circling her nest under the watchful gaze of the male. She settled on her side a short distance away, ensuring that a ray of moonlight alighted upon her soaked nether regions; that no haunch nor tail shieled her soppy sex from his hungry eyes. Try as he might to not dwell on the obvious trap, the male's attention returned to it one too many times, his hungry nostrils sucking in her fertile scent while his cock undoubtedly threatened to spill its seed into her bed.
"Take a good look at it," Asharya hoisted a hind leg so that her pink, flushed lips parted ever so slightly to give him a barely discernable look into herself. "It is the reason you invaded my home. The reason you flopped about in my bed, undoubtedly rubbing your member against my prized pelts while caught in the fetters of uncontrollable desire."
With that very shaft lodged tight between his underbelly and the soft caress of furs warmed by his inner fire, the male's eyelids began to flutter. His lips tensed, the creases of his snout deepening as his wings and haunches began to convulse, providing Asharya with explicit imagery of what happened underneath.
The male tried to mask it at first; to suppress his impending ejaculation for as long as possible, but as his first burst of seed exploded out of him, sharp, fitful cries of bliss erupted from his maw. Asharya's leg came down just as the male's began to thrust into her furs in jerking, uneven motions, her own body rippling with ecstasy that threatened to carry her over the edge as well. Perverse as it was, her strained senses perceived the stifling scent of fresh seed as nothing short of blissful opportunity to fulfill the primordial thirst of her gender for male essence while at the height of fertility.
It only lasted a few seconds, but to the wyverness whose entire frame was invaded by waves of euphoria rippling out from her oversensitive sex, it seemed far, far longer. The male's sudden exhale brought her back to the present, reminding her of the deep, cumbersome breath she had kept in all along.
"I'm...Tawyr," he said to her between heavy panting breaths that he tried to maintain as nonchalant as possible. No matter how inconvenient the seed soaking his belly felt, he kept his body eerily still, as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.
"The storm caught me unawares, and I sought refuge into the closest den I could find. Your scent...it was older, so I assumed one night would be no trouble, given the strong winds keeping you from it."
"Did they?" Asharya's toes relaxed, claws tapping on the floor.
"Now that they stopped, I...should go?" His panicked, shuddering tone made that seem both a question and a verdict.
"Of course," Asharya dipped her head in approval. "Leave the seed-ridden bed for my pleasure, so that I can roll in it just like you did."
That didn't sit well with Tawyr. Panic-stricken by the uncovered truth of a reaction he barely understood himself, the male pushed himself to his feet, swaying and lurching his way to the ledge of her lair, leaning on his wings when he tipped too much in one direction or another. Asharya had to bend her head down, lest the span of his wing caught her, growling in subdued glee at how wide his stance was. Was this truly his first seed? Had he never released it in his sleep, inside a female he may never mount? It certainly seemed to disturb him to that extent with its slimy texture that he instinctively tried to keep from spreading.
At the edge of her cave, with his heart lodged in his throat no doubt, the male unfurled his wings and launched himself into the sky. Globs of seed slipped from his semi-erect cock and plates, falling into the night like the drops of a far heavier scented rain. Asharya scrambled onto her feet, her own frame heavy, her sex equally eager to leak its tendrils of sweet honey. She painted lines of female drool on her way into the open, her fevered lips throbbing something fierce in dire need to be filled by the load Tawyr had just spent.
Asharya gave that instinct of hers no heed. Soon as the object of her amusement was out of sight, the wyverness turned to her desecrated nest and unleashed her flames, drowning everything she had amassed in a renewing blaze. The rock would forget her memory and Tawyr's trespass, but the picture of that fleeing male, with his cock bobbing about, wasn't likely to vanish as easily.
Curious as to where he was headed, Asharya took after him, relying on the awkward stranger to lead the way into the world beyond the span of her colony.
***The End ***
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