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***This is the full story I uploaded in two parts on Siranor***

Description: Trapped in the secluded parts of the Spine Mountains under strict orders from her stern rider, Saphira becomes bored with her condition. Worse, a mysterious affliction that pushes her to imagine herself taken by other dragons keep her dreaming, wanting...thirsting for the affection of another dragon, or at the very least, someone like her. A being of the wilds.

Opportunity reveals itself when a pack of hunters try to trap a majestic wolf, spurring her into action. Eragon always insisted she should never spill the blood of men, but when men prove themselves to be worse than any beast that walks the land, what can a lonely, pent-up dragon do, if not follow their instincts?

Story written by me, Siranor

***Saphira's First Heat: Vengeance and Lust***

The orders thundering in her ears from the man astride her back were almost as deafening as the clashing clouds that spat lightning arcs all around the vast expanse of the surrounding skies. This Eragon was not the young boy she grew up with. No. He was harsher. Even ruthless when the so called destiny he envisioned threatened to change.

He was a stern man, one who forged his own dragon into the deadliest of weapons. One who really wanted her to put her training to use. And with little regard for anything but the vague silhouette of the prey she kept on chasing at his behest, Saphira flapped her wings frantically against the beating winds that threatened to blow her off course.

Catch up to him! Don't let him get away from us again!

Her rider's droning became almost a mantra that fed her single minded focus up until a fierce blast of wind sent her prey downwards.

Saphira broke through the oppressive blanket of gray clouds to chase right after him, feeling not the sting of pain in her wings or the chill of the icy rain pattering down upon her scales, but the hot, bristling feeling of closing in on her prey.

"We got you now, deceiver!" Her Eragon shouted once she steadied out her flight. He pulled up the visor of his plated suit of armor up and pointed the tip of his sapphire colored blade at the robed figure that rode a slightly smaller, spikier, red version of his own Saphira. "Surrender peacefully and I promise we will treat you as fairly as we can."

"Fair? As in, you'll be giving me a larger cell to rot in? No." A chuckle came from the red's rider. "I think we'll take the other path."

The figure pulled down his cowl to reveal a man as young as the dragon he rode -a lad, really- hardened by battles won beyond his fragile age. One who was not to be trifled with.

Unsheathing his sword from a gold engraved sheath stuck on the side of his dragon's saddle, the man said something to his dragon.

Eragon did too, only Saphira paid no attention to the customary pat on the back of her neck or the reassurances she received before any battle. Her eyes were stolen by her prey...by how young he looked, by how... undeserving of a mauling he seemed to be.

Why fight? Why, when they could solve their disputes in other, better ways, far removed from the concerns or wishes of their own riders?

Her battle raging instincts flinched a moment at the flicker of such a strange, selfish thought. She imagined it for only a moment. That perfect picture of fulfillment that haunted her every night, where she would settle down for the night next to her ideal partner. His warm tongue upon the side of her neck, his claws, grappling onto her not with the purpose to injure, but to hold her tight as he aligned his nether regions with hers... She all but shuddered with expectation for what was to come, and then...something else came.

That fateful word that always preceded the most horrid yet perfect thing she could do. Fight.

Skies wept, clouds thundered, and skyfire poured down with the rain in forms of crackling arcs of lightning, illuminating the scales of the two winged beasts that soon clashed together with a ferocity no man was ever capable of. Seeing nothing but the visage of her enemy, filled with little apart from the thrill that rushed through her veins in every such occasion, Saphira danced around her prey while the riders exchanged arrow after arrow, spell after spell. With none obtaining the upper edge at range, the fight moved into close quarters combat. At her rider's behest, Saphira turned her evasive maneuvers into an all out flurry of attacks that quickly overwhelmed the capabilities of the younger, less experienced dragon. She caught him well. Foreclaws sunk into his sides, hind claws entwined with his own, jaws latched around the underside of his neck just behind his jaws, she rendered him completely unable to retaliate. A helpless prey caught in a deadly trap of fangs and claws. All she had to do was squeeze. Squeeze her jaws around his neck, allow her fangs to slip past his narrow, fragile scales, and it would all be over...just like her rider wanted.

Do it. End him before he has a chance to break free! Eragon kept on screaming as his feeble sword found no way to strike down his sworn enemy.

But something told her not to. A feeling unlike any other rose up from her stomach, slithering up her every muscle, spreading through her belly like a debilitating cloud of emotions she never dealt with before. Not in such raw ways. The fear of perishing at the tips of her fangs, the regret of losing his young life so quickly, the sorrow of never settling down with a mate of his own...she didn't have to look into his terrified eyes or listen to the frantic beats of his heart to know what the trapped male felt in that moment...for she felt his own emotions as her own...

And felt disgusted for going as far as she did.

Her grip relented.

Eragon said something about grave mistakes, but at that point, Saphira no longer cared. Filled to the brim with revulsion at what her thrill of battle made her do in his name, Saphira released the red male, and the two shared a fleeting, knowing glance before they put their own unspoken plans into action. With but a swipe of her tail, Saphira sent the male's rider crashing down into the unknown below, an action lauded by her own two-legged burden moments before he too was stripped from her back.

Nghahaaaahh! Nooo! Saphiraaaaaaa!

Gurgling words and outlandish screams rang from the mouth where commands used to sprout from before the source was severed from the body, neck and all; a grisly display, if not a fitting one for a man who turned her entire life into an eternal fight in the name of his misplaced sense of justice.

With cheerful roars, unburdened by the fetters that entrapped their now newfound freedom, the dragons flew at each other not as enemies, but as allies. They embraced in the pattering rain, caressing each other with snouts and tongues alike. For a short, precious moment, they delighted in the feeling of soaring together with the rains. Of breaking away to circle around each other like jovial hatchlings that barely left their nest before they embraced to fly as one once more.

Once exhilaration tapered off, they found refuge on the soaked ground below, under that crooked roof of a ledge that gave these mountains their name. With water dripping down their scales to wash away the blood of their injuries, the two cared for each other's wounds as best as they could with the limited means their kin had. Still, even without her rider's wound dressing abilities, Saphira felt happier than ever, for even if her tongue could not stitch flesh or regrow scales, her contributions coaxed out sounds she never thought she would hear from a former enemy.

Soft growls. Gentle purrs. Trills that filled her fluttering heart with joy. In that moment, he was hers as much as she was his.

It felt like a dream, almost, to feel another dragon's warmth nestled against her own body, his protective wing wrapped around her like a velvety blanket filled with life and heat, his tongue, caressing her head ever so slowly in a futile attempt to express his appreciation. Saphira needed no reward. She already had the greatest one she could ever ask for.

Him! She enjoyed everything he offered, from the pleasant clatter his scales made when they brushed with hers to the licks he showered her with, and of course, his scent. That pleasant aroma that kept pulling onto her instincts for a while now was downright infuriating!

"Mrrr..." Saphira gently eased him on his side with a gentle growl and turned around so she could better assess his features. She started with his neck. Sinuous and long, protected by shaper, narrower scales than hers, it led towards a powerful chest where tougher scales rose to protect his vital areas. Saphira gently moved her snout further down his belly, past his gentle, grabby forelegs, past even his own haunches, for even if she admired the near perfect curvature of his sharper, smaller claws and his lithe, sculpted musculature, there was something else that beckoned her. A place veiled from the sight of any man that would look upon that particular area...

But not from the fine nose of a dragon. Saphira hovered over the slender opening where flesh replaced scales, her twitching nostrils drawing in the scents of his masculinity, of his virility, of everything that made him such an attractive dragon to stare at.

Mraaawwhhh... a needy hiss unlike any other escaped through her tightening jaws. She wanted to analyze his scent further. To savor it... To test whether this dragon could indeed make a fitting mate for her.

But another side of her just wanted more immediate results.

Closing her eyes, Saphira pressed her snout against his flesh. Her tongue snuck out to sink into the expanse of his twitching folds, slithering like a snake into the deeper reaches until she found exactly what her breeding instincts yearned for all along.

His member.

Awrr... she moaned, lapping repeatedly at his tip, suckling in his sweet, delightful juices. Dazed by the bliss of her discovery, Saphira focused on nothing but the heat of his flesh, making out with his opening far more passionately than she ever licked her own vent.

Enamored with the feeling of his quickly growing erection, Saphira continued to assault his emerging shaft with licks that would thoroughly spoil any suitor. Around and under his tip she went, parting the bulging folds of his fleshy walls greedily with her tongue in an attempt to reach his deeper places...places that made him whimper with such cute, adoring sounds. Throb after throb, thrust after thrust against her hungry tongue, his member grew, and the more defined his erection became, the hungrier Saphira grew for the precious, life-giving fluid that escaped every male at the height of their passions.

Allowing his member to slide along her tongue until his entire tip disappeared within her enrapturing jaws, Saphira suckled him vigorously, enjoying the sweet splatters of pre-seed that squirted inside her jaws as much as the throbbing of the ridges that fueled such intense spurts. She attacked those quite voraciously with the tip of her tongue, savoring the rain of his delightful taste until she found herself yanked quite violently by one of her horns.

Before she had the time to make heads or tails of the situation, she found herself nudged by him into a position that felt all too natural for her kind. Forelegs bent down on the cool ground, wings tucked at her sides, and haunches spread with an invitingly lifted tail, Saphira growled back at him, offering her approval to do what all dragons wanted in this situation.

To mate.

With trepidating licks across her form, the male clumsily fit himself around her slightly larger bulk. Clumsy as he was, he knew how to make up for his inexperience with long licks that washed away every drop of water from the back of her scaled, spike-less neck. Her throat all but vibrated with excitement, her tail, shuddering with want.

As soon as she felt him even attempt to thrust his big, beautiful member in the direction of her need, Saphira tensed and shuddered with want.

Almost there. Aaaalmost there. Looking back with large, starry eyes, Saphira licked her snout with arduous desire. His taste was still fresh on her lips...a taste she desperately wished to sample with her other pair of lips. The horny dragoness all but counted the thrusts he needed to finally find his mark. Thrice he prodded, each kiss of his cock stirring her shuddering folds into a frenzy of want. She kneaded and squelched with want, until, finally, his entire member sunk its beautiful features in her through a profound thrust that all but stole the breath out of her throat.

"Graa-Mrrrooaaaaaahhhh!" The engulfing euphoria of all those ridges rolling along her fleshy canal one after the other almost sent her flopping down on the soaked ground. So raw. So intense. So removed from anything she ever experienced before!

She...she loved it beyond any sound her choking throat could make. The enveloping tightness of his entire shaft lodged within her, his sweet, shuddering moan...it was always something she dreamed of, but never truly tasted...until now.

Roaring louder than ever, the utter feeling of completion that exploded from her grasping nethers forked along her body like lightning, dispersing into every muscle she could control. Suddenly, she found herself just as tight as the muscles that trapped him within her...

And just like his hard, throbbing erection, she leaked plentily. For she could hardly endure this torturous feast of intense feelings without spurting out some of her excess heat.

Mraaahhh! Rawwwraaaaahhh! Growls of ecstatic passion rang all around the mountains.

Thick ropes of slime splattered down their union as her cunt tried to adjust to the intensity of her first mating by fitting and refitting its flesh around his all too stimulating set of ridges. For him, this was heaven. For her...it wasn't enough.

Pushing herself back against his soggy vent, Saphira encouraged him to keep on going. And he did. Albeit jagged and inexperienced, doused with an additional layer of unspent passions, her male started to breed her just like she always yearned. Passionately and fast, without fancy words or other goals apart from the obvious: To fill her thirsting womb with torrents of his life giving seed.

Gritting her jaws, Saphira endured the torturous ploughing of her heat-stricken folds with as much admiration as could be expected from one at the peak of her heat. Every journey his cock made in and out of her grasping pussy threatened to send her soaring over the greatest peak of her pleasure...but with the sheer might of her willpower, she held onto that sliver of resistance that promised to make her last just a bit longer...just...one thrust further...just so she could ascend the peak of her pleasure with him, not alone, as she always did in her lonely dreams.

She looked so forward to sample the heat of his seed within her needy womb, to hear his roar mingle with hers, to feel him give out every good thing he had within him....and then...it happened. His claws grasped her tighter than ever. His jaws latched around her neck, saliva as hot as the translucent fluids that bridged their vents together trickled down her scales from his weak, unsure bite. With one last shuddering thrust of his hips, her male buried himself inside her deepest reaches, and roared.

But what followed in the wake of his tremendous cry was not at all what Saphira had expected. Instead of his hot, clammy seed, what she felt was the coarse feeling of an all too familiar surface. And instead of his scent, there were sticks and grass and pelts, all cobbled together by the unmistakable stench of her own acute loneliness.

"Graaaaaarrrr!" Saphira roared to the skies as her fantasy dispersed with but a blink of her azure eyes. She was back. Back into a world of rules and loneliness.

A world where too often she awoke as alone as she had been when her young, curious snout first broke through the shell of her egg. Oh, how much she yearned to be a hatchling again. To view the world as the beautiful expanse of endless possibilities it had once been. When she took her first unsure steps into the forest that surrounded her rider's home, she thought she could uncover all of its secrets. Yet her rider bid her to wait. Patience, he said. You will explore the world soon enough.

Then months passed. She learned to fly. To fight. To hide from the sight of men and beasts alike.

Yet even now, when she stood the size of a large horse, she was no closer to fulfill her dreams of exploring the world she had been back then when she weighted as much as a bunch of potatoes.

With a long, shuddering growl, Saphira curled around herself. She attempted to return to that place of blissful tranquility, in the embrace of her ideal mate, but the stench of her loneliness proved far too pungent to let her mind rest. Damned need! Why did SHE have to suffer through it all alone?

Burying her snout into her abnormally puffy vent soaked by the drenching slime of her first premature heat, Saphira scratched away at her burning need as best as she could with her own pointy tongue, but the debris that stuck to her lips was coarse and rough, entering into her sensitive reaches deeper the more she tried to coax it out.

Raaaah!

The nearest river provided her with a measure of the tranquility she sought. Cold and invigorating, the waters were more of a nest to her right now than her actual bed, a hastily built circle of branches topped off with furs and rags her Eragon brought over the course of her first year of life. A nest of memories as diverse as the objects strewn about, distasteful and mismatched.

Her life was not down there, but up in the sky, a realm where all winged beings could be free.

All but her.

According to her rider, she was more than special. As the only dragon born into the realm centuries after her kin went all but extinct, she had to remain hidden from everything and everyone, for even a brief sighting could allow the king's men to find her.

How silly of a thought! Men. What could men do to a dragon? Her Eragon wove horrid tales of the trappers that would bind her and ferry her to the king's darkened dungeons, but what awaited her there was not the executioner's axe, nor the manacles of servitude the king would all too eagerly bind her with.

No. His only desire was more power. And the way he earned such power were dragons...dragons born out of a union between her and the last known living dragon. His own personal pet, Shruikan. A terrifying monster said to have bathed in the blood of the hundreds of dragons he had slain in the name of his King. But those were just words. Rumors spawned by fears and revulsion for an age past. There was no way to know for certain who this Shruikan was. To Saphira, the idea of finding herself alone with a male dragon, even one as supposedly deranged as the king's pet, stirred her in ways she could never admit to her rider, for in that perfect darkness, she had no need to even look upon this beast of a dragon. Just feel his hot, huffing breath cascading down her neck and his cock spread her apart bit by bit until...until he'd...

A howl broke through the veil of her desires. One unlike any other she heard in the forest. This wasn't an attempt for a wolf to communicate with its packmates. No.

It was a cry of pain.

With her sharp senses focused on the source of the creature's distress, Saphira took flight in a glimmering rain of droplets without thinking twice. She soared over familiar lands, scanning the forest below for clues. Then, she heard it again. Coming from a farther distance than she initially imagined. From outside the protective area her rider told her to stay in.

There was no time for petty rules now. Saphira sunk her worries into the depths of her mind and pushed onwards, landing on a ledge far enough away from the group of hunters that seemed busy with the biggest catch of their life. A fuzzy creature that bore the shape of a wolf, yet bigger. Much bigger.

A direwolf.

Saphira hopped down the mountain, using her speed and grace to sneak through the underbrush with little in the way of noise. She learned these forests well, and, in spite of her larger size, her slinky form still allowed her to blend in within the shadow of the forest.

Carefully, she crept upon the clearing where the bustling voices of the hunters dwarfed any creak of the branches scrapping against her scales. Over a dozen they numbered, three of them on alert for other wolves that would come to their prey's rescue, several burdened with the task of tying the great beast to their longcart, and a few more dousing the sweaty results of their distasteful work with round after round of pungent drink.

"A'ight, think he's bound tighter than me cock, he is." A gruffy man that seemed to be their leader in spite of his disheveled appearance thundered. "Ravi, up on the horses, Tarkleigh, you're in the back with the beast. If he but twitches a paw, hit him with the sleepin' spear. We need 'im whole for the mistress, and Gavin, don't even think of puttin' your grabby hands on his jewels, a'ight? This is a prized specimen fit for even the king to ride. Don' want him reekin' of your stench once we present him in the market. That's all there is to it. Get movin', ye rats!"

They were talking about him as if he was just merchandise, waiting to be sold. Saphira felt infuriated. Even if her Eragon told her tales about such men, seeing their greed, their heartlessness with her own eyes, and worse, inhaling bits of their acrid, sweaty could hardly compare to any tale she heard. The beasts were real...and so was the wolf. A specimen dark of fur with burgundy shades along his head and underside, he seemed to be native to the Spine region as his colors could all too easily blend with the blackened bark of the trees in this region. Though his size made him quite the imposing beast if put next to a human, there was no trace of malevolence in the eyes that followed the movements of his captors. Quite the opposite. He seemed to have resigned to whatever fate led him to be bound with ropes and chains.

But Saphira could not so easily accept that. If half of her Rider's tales were true, then the black Direwolves of the Northern Reaches were sons of the old world as well. Proud hunters that had been sharing these forests with dragons since the race of men was nothing more than another prey to hunt, huddling scared in their caverns for the coming of daylight when wolves preferred to socialize. Direwolves had more right to call this forest home than anyone. Perhaps more than her own kin...the same glorious dragons that paid the ultimate price for the trust they put in the two-legged races.

The creaking of the moving cart reached her ears. Gritting her jaws, Saphira tensed up like a predator waiting to pounce. Could she, against her rider's stern reminders, let such a striking creature become another currency for the humans?

You know the price of discovery, the distance voice of Eragon whispered in her mind. They will hunt you. They will find you. They will not stop until you are either in chains...or dead.

Saphira closed her eyes. Flashes of her life zipped before her mind's eye. Happier times, lived within the comforting sphere of blissful ignorance. Easier times when she but obeyed without questions. She owed much to the man that raised her to be the dragon she now was. For that, she owed him her trust. Her oaths. Perhaps even her life.

But...as good and kind as he had been, her Eragon was still a man. A man with an unfortunate legacy behind him. A man who could, at any point, become the vengeance-obsessed hunter from her dreams.

All it took for her to make her decision was a single image of her crimson scaled mate laying there on that cart instead of the wolf, his wings severed off, his spirit, shattered. A living carcass haunted by the spirit of the dragon he could have been if men like the dark king kept their ambitions in check.

"Angvar." One of the hunters on watch threw a rock at his absent minded companion's arm.

"Aye? What're you hittin me for?"

"Thought I heard somethin' shufflin' through that patch ova'tharr."

"Could be the runt you abandoned for this glamorous job. How's your wife? Heavy with another's child, is she? Or has she resorted to ridin beasts like this one in the absence of a proper cock inside her?"

"Quit the yappin' an' go checkin'! I swear somethin's movin in there!"

The portly man called Angvar lost his hand before he even touched the handle of his blood splattered hunting axe. While he screamed and clutched his mangled stump of an arm in vain attempt to stop his life-water from pouring out, Saphira ended three more of his stupefied companions. One fell mangled with holes where her claws were a moment ago, while his two other valiant chargers broke their spine against the trees they embraced from but a single swipe of her mighty tail.

"We're under attaaaack! To aaarms. To--glheeaaaaghh"

Saphira pounced on the crier, her weight alone crushing the man's fragile body. All others ran. With their wails focusing all the attention of the present men on her, Saphira frantically leapt around the clearing to dispose of all the scrambling targets before they had the chance to enforce the main bulk of the reorganized squadron bunched together like a spiny hedgehog.

"What in Garn's name, that's a fockin' dragon!"

"Dragon! Dragon!" The pathetic sheep kept on chanting as they fell under her sharp, toothy wrath.

But as her Eragon often warned, for all their lack of armor or wings, men's will to survive could rival even the toughest dragon's. While she was busy severing off almost half of their fleeing forces, the rest of the more disciplined hunters wasted no time on screams or curses.

With their leader at the tip of their barrier of spears, the ball of death spat quick volleys of arrows that quickly forced the sapphire huntress on a defensive posture.

"Again!" A second flurry of steel-pointed sharpsticks followed at his command, hitting many parts of her body.

Hissing through her bared teeth, Saphira skulked into the shadow of the trees, breaking off the shafts of a too generous number of arrows stuck between her scales in her frantic run.

"It'll come back. Hold this position. Harold, take two men and scour the trees. It can't get far in that undergrowth."

It. Half numbers strong, and they already referred to her as prey? How dare they??

With fire burning in her heart, Saphira crouched low in the brush and waited for this man named Harold to enter her domain. Here, amidst darkness and thorns, she had the advantage, for her nostrils could track their stench better than eyes ever could.

"Here?" He poked the very bush where her snarling snout hid. "I don't see nothin'-" were Harold's last illustrious words before his head was parted from his body.

"What the-" the weapons of his aides fell on the ground just like Harold's shuddering body, useless, heavy, unable to even lay a scratch on her scales. Grabbing the heavier one of the lot in her maw, Saphira crawled until she reached the clearing, then whirled her head around to hurl the broken, lifeless man straight at the concourse of crossbowmen. A good number of arrows made a pinwheel out of the distraction, but a few smarter ones smelled her deceit. They aimed at her, and with but a command from their leader, they discharged their pointy wrath straight at her.

Saphira ducked her head against her chest to protect her eyes. The arrows stung terribly as they dug their sharp tips between her denting scales, but that sting was nothing compared to what she had in store for them. Picking her head up, with the blood of slain men coursing down her jaws, she looked like an emissary of vengeance sent here in the name of all the dragons that fell in the name of the dark king's crusade.

"Stand your fockin ground!" The leader thundered as he wiped his dagger off the blood of the first coward that broke their formation. "We're not about to fall to one focken lizard. Keep your spears up and reload. We'll give it another taste of our-"

Waiting not for his monologue to run its course, Saphira swept the ground with her tail. A cloud of pebbles and dust shot in their direction like a storm, giving her the very edge she needed to break through their lines. With most of the men shielding or rubbing their eyes from the sharp debris that blinded them, Saphira ploughed through them like a storm, swatting, swiping, ripping and biting on everything she could get her claws on. Blood flowed freely on both sides, though by the end of it, she remained the only one standing.

She and the leader, collapsing down at her feet, clutching his ravaged gut with both arms.

"Kahhhh!!" the man rolled on his belly to keep his insides where they belonged. "You focken relic of a bygone age. Think this...changes anything?" he coughed blood as red as his exposed flesh. "C-cant staunch the course of fate. M'abe not today, not tomorrow...but one day the king will know, and he will send hundreds in my wake! We'll hunt you...and we won't stop...until you join your entire extinct race!"

Saphira flung his bloodied arms aside and crushed their bones under her weight before she turned around, letting him curse in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by all the men he brought on this foolish hunt. Mercy was too good for the likes of him. This man deserved to wither, as slowly or as quickly as fate desired.

With her vengeance soothed, Saphira ripped off whatever arrows were within the reach of her teeth. She plucked over a dozen by the time the wolf's whines reminded her of what she fought for. She freed him easily from the bond of the ropes. Teeth worked as good as daggers on those. But for the heavy manacles that held his limbs fast against the cart's sockets, a more clever approach was needed. One she learned from Eragon. By pulling the sockets gently with her claws, Saphira managed to free the grateful wolf from a life of slavery, his frantic licks enjoyed for only a brief moment before her battle fatigue took her down on the very place the wolf was moments ago.

"Mraarrr..." Saphira growled gently at the concerned wolf and pointed at the decent number of arrows that still adorned her neck. The wolf plucked them one after the other like he had been taught by her, with a quick, painless jab that removed the head of the arrows completely from the narrow in-betweens of her scales.

While he worked, Saphira's tired eyes admired the desolate landscape created by her intervention. Corpses strewn about with missing limbs. Discarded armaments. And blood...So much blood. It sickened her to even smell it, for this was the first time she unwillingly tasted the life essence of men... a thing that should have never happened. If Eragon ever caught wind of this...,would he even believe the rumors? His little Saphira...capable of such carnage?

Her darkened thoughts abated with the arrival of a warm presence sniffing its way along her nethers. Saphira allowed it. She was curious to see how far the wolf was willing to go...

But as soon as his warm tongue made contact with her flesh, she immediately felt improper for allowing him to even touch her, for he was not a dragon, and definitely not the kind of male she would choose as her mate.

She pushed him out of the cart. He fell on his side, whining just briefly. When he got up, his jaws were still clattering with the potency of her heat; scents she tasted for herself when his tongue started to splatter her snout with moistened affection.

He sought forgiveness. That much was clear. But Saphira also felt something else in his arduous licks. Desire? A yearn for companionship?

She rubbed her head along his to let him know there would be no reprisal for his actions, and, before she even made sense of his temporary infatuation, Saphira followed him into the depths of the forest after the swishing of his tail along with his constant looks back at her made it all too obvious he wished to be followed.

They arrived inside a verdant meadow, surrounded by mounds dug with purpose. They looked too well dug out to be natural. Dens. Nurseries for pups that no longer grew within them.

Seeing the longing in his eyes, Saphira settled down and welcomed the wolf under her wing. Dragon or not, she felt deeply for his loss...and feared just as intensely for her own should she ever couple with the dragon of her dreams, or just...any dragon that still existed in this huge, lonely world.

With thoughts of her long-deceased kin flying through her mind and the touch of the wolf's warm tongue prodding at her recovering wounds, Saphira easily fell asleep with his protective presence cuddled against her. Here, entangled with the body of another hunter of the forest, she felt safe...

Perhaps safe enough to give herself to the realm of dreams for a moment or two.

For the following days, the two hunters took more of a passive role in their affairs, but not before they disposed of the bodies of the deceased. Saphira showed him how to erase his marks completely, first by stripping the humans of their coverings, then by scattering their belongings over areas far removed from their own. That way, scouts would never know the real cause of their deaths.

It was an exhausting task. Risky. For even short flights sent her into the same spiral of worries Eragon instilled within her from a much too fragile age, and, as much as she wanted to be angry at him, Saphira focused on what she had now. Or rather, who she had.

A protector. An ally. Perhaps...even a friend. For a few days after the retribution bestowed upon the party of hunters, they lingered in the relative safety of the wolf's home, never venturing too far into the unknown. At night each took turns watching for any of the king's trackers.

None came.

On the cusp of the fifth or so morning, Saphira awoke to the indigo sky of the early morning, warm and fulfilled from the living creature she sheltered under her wing. He might not have been the dragon that still haunted her wettest dreams, but the blessing of awakening to another scent apart from her own satisfied her in a deeper way than momentary pleasure ever could. She hardly expected her life to take such an interesting turn. She, a young dragoness stricken by the pains of her first reproductive cycle, nestling down with a wolf. A wolf, of all things! For all intents and purposes, he might have very well been part of the unfairly large group of creatures humans referred to as beasts. Non sentient creatures they either hunted, enslaved, or butchered according to their needs.

Yet to her, he seemed more than that. More than even a man. For even in spite of his simple way of life, he behaved in ways so noble even most men could have troubles imitating.

Once he roused from his slumbers, he provided her with a fresh stag he caught while she dozed off to thoughts of her future. He offered her the best portions, as he often did once he assumed the role of a provider, but today a pestering itch on the back of her horned head prevented her from accepting his offering. Nosing the bounty of nutritious organs in his direction, she made it clear with a gentle, yet sharp enough hiss that she was not a human damsel, to be spoiled and pampered as if her claws were too blunt to earn her own prey.

He accepted without much of a retort.

With the stag quickly reduced to a pile of fur and inedible remains, they started mutually grooming each other off the darkened blood that stuck to their snouts. Saphira enjoyed the feeling of his tongue upon her lips greatly. So much so she began slacking in her duties. With a relaxed huff, she splayed herself on her back once her task was done to allow his sniffing snout greater access to the rest of her body. Sniffing his way like a bloodhound along her neck, the wolf quickly found remnants of blood on the forelegs she held the carcass in place with....but once he licked her claws clean, he found another treat to savor. One more juicy than any meal he savored up to this point. With his breath cascading down her nethers in form of rapid sniffs, Saphira picked her head up. She shared a long look with him, then laid her head back down on the ground, the spreading of her legs as obvious as the growl of longing that escaped her rumbling neck.

This time, she wanted not just a friend, but a male. A mate that could soothe her innermost desires.

The wolf's cold, oozing nose extracted a flinch from her haunches once it touched her seeping vent. He drew back, but only for a moment, for right after the chill came heat. Delightful amounts of heat that dragged their way across the entire expanse of her lips like a blanket of hot, humid flesh.

"Mrraffff..." a gruff whimper left her jaws just before they sealed shut. His tongue felt so, SO good...and he wasn't even getting started yet. With only the tip of his tongue, he tasted her tentatively, prodding inside her tunnel briefly to test her reaction. He looked intently upon her quivering legs, alert for anything that might unleash the warrior within.

Such a silly creature.

Snapping at him, Saphira pointed her snout in the direction of her need, and when he licked again with the same wavering stance, she grabbed onto his neck and forced his muzzle nose deep within her quivering flesh.

The wolf finally got her message. With untamed lust and unrestricted access to her flooded depths, he started to assault her cavern like a wild beast, effectively seeking to drink up every squirt of honey produced by her rapidly kneading muscles.

"Mraaaaahhhh!" Saphira's next growl was more of a moan, weak and unsteady like her shuddering body. It was...too much. So good. Even looking upon his splattering jaws filled her with satisfaction beyond measure, for nobody wanted her to such extent. Not in such primal ways.

Drunk on her fertile scents, the wolf started grazing at her flesh, not hard enough to hurt, but to stimulate her contractions into producing more of the irresistible honey that enthralled his senses.

Writhing in a mess of growls and whines, Saphira clawed and grabbed at the air for purchase like the undignified whores from her rider's tales. No. She wasn't...one of those whiny types. She was a warrior.

She was a...victim of her irrevocable desire to receive the hot, throbbing extent of a male's affections.

As he buried more than half of his muzzle within her, Saphira slapped the ground with her tail in vain attempt to stifle the weakness that started to spread across her body in the form of hot, uncontrollable shudders. Yet the more she tried to fall back on her willpower, the better she realized that just like her wolf, she was irrevocably losing her senses to the dazzling bliss that coalesced into the raging depths of her heat-stricken pussy.

Whining with wild need, the wolf kept on pushing and pushing her buttons, burying his muzzle increasingly deeper, until his tongue tickled at depths no dragon tongue could reach...least of all her own.

Tensing up like a spring, Saphira's last thoughts were of her dragon burying himself slit deep within her...just as the tide of completion washed over her. She didn't just squirt, as she did in her dreams. No...

She exploded, splattering the wolf's clattering muzzle with gushes so ferocious they bathed him all the way up to his chest.

Once her wits returned to her, Saphira felt most improper to see the wolf curl around himself to tongue his own red need in secret.

She got up on unsteady legs to nose at his own engorged problem. He too was leaking, just like her...only his flesh had a much tighter feel to it...and a much more appeasing smell.

Kissing his squirting tip a few times with her own tongue, Saphira drank in his essence...and the more she drank, the more she wanted to explore the rest of his beautiful maleness.

It was the wolf's turn to splay for her now, beady eyes staring at her with curiosity and want for her touch. His off-white fangs gleamed in the sun as he splattered more of his translucent essence onto her tongue, but he didn't really whine until the mysterious bulge further up his shaft became a target of the curious female's attentions. Saphira nosed into it a few times. It felt so hard, compared to his other, softer fruits. Could he have another pair hidden past the veil of his furred cock-shelter?

Before she had the chance to uncover the mystery herself, the wolf pressed his own pads down upon his bulge. A shudder crept up his body. Then, just like she did moments before, he squirted a strong line of liquid heat straight into his own face.

Mesmerized by how a simple touch could have such interesting repercussions, Saphira licked his oozing shaft a few more times, then allowed the rest of his length to slip past her fangs in a way that made it all too easy to entrap the wolf fully within the engulfing heat of her jaws, his bulge locking perfectly behind her large, imposing fangs. Closing her eyes, Saphira suckled him like a kitten would feast on the milk of her mother, tenderly...needily. For the taste of a male in the prime of his life was like honey to her heat-stricken senses.

The sounds he made...that sweet, yowling howl, reached her senses as quickly as the scraping of his blunt, desperate claws. She didn't know in the moment why he all but attacked her to regain his freedom.

But once he rolled up on his fours with a raised tail and a purposeful gait in his steps, she finally understood his intentions.

He wished to be followed...even if his dangling cock painted a clear path to whatever place he led her to. By that time, both of their erotic needs dwindled down. He regained his dignified composure -as proven by the many trees he marked on his way there with a surprisingly flaccid shaft- while she kept on wandering what all this fuss was about until the shadows of the forest gave way to a sunny meadow.

It was not just a meadow, as she came to discover. Once she emerged on the edge of a cliff overlooking the wolf's home valley, with the warm winds of late morning flowing past her scales, Saphira took a deep breath from the fresh, cold air, and settled on her haunches, utterly mesmerized by the beauty of the mountains, the whisper of the river flowing down below...

The playful intentions of the wolf that kept circling her, nipping at various parts of her body until a bite on the tip of her tail forced her out of her serene reverie.

She twisted about to punish him, but by the time her body had time to adjust to the sudden shift in her balance, he was already upon her, a storm of fur, licks, and playful whines that stole her breath away as much as the vista of his home.

She found it impossibly hard to resist the pull of his playful allure. Joining him in a game that mixed in everything a dragon loved -running about, fighting, and chasing- Saphira felt more alive than ever. She realized in that moment of exhilarating freedom how much she needed to have someone of equal stature test her mettle. Her Eragon, for all his good intentions, toppled even from a gentle push of her snout once she grew past his height. He was no dragon to handle the raking of her claws upon his fragile human body...yet neither was the wolf. Still, his ragged physique alone allowed him to compete with her exigent demands far better than any human. Eager to test her abilities to their fullest potential, the wolf tackled her repeatedly, even bit her a handful of times. For a man, that would mean instant death. But to her...the attacks launched by his natural weapons hardly inconvenienced her naturally armored hide.

"Mrrah!" With a clever twist of her body, Saphira shoved the wolf on his side, then quickly clambered over him, the scraping of his claws against her belly doing little to deter her dominance. His growls and snaps dimmed into a tamer growl, and finally, thinned into a sweet, calming sea of whines as her curious, blue snout nuzzled through his luxurious fur. She passed over his flicking ears briefly, realizing how much he disliked the puffs of her breath entering unreasonably ticklish crevasses, then turned upon his jaw, which she treated to soft, affectionate rubs for a short, peaceful moment. She paused briefly to look into his eyes. Those warm, wild eyes that radiated the same joy she felt for having another likeminded soul to share such affection with.

Moving down his neck, Saphira treated him to yet another one of her tricks, nibbling into his fur with teeth that merely days ago dripped with the blood of his captors. She could be rough when she wanted, but now, she was as gentle as any mother, leaving only a soft trail of saliva and exhilarated whines in her wake. What she wanted...what she needed right now was something greater than proving herself the superior hunter. Something better than dominance.

Something...she could only express through action rather than growls.

As she advanced down his chest, her eyes drank in the sight of his gender. That plump, furred organ so atypical to what she learned so far about her kin and that of men mesmerized her with its cleverly concealed appearance. In the sea of dark fur that was his belly, the shape of his maleness could hardly be distinguished were it not for the pink opening of his sheath and the moistened tip of the member that stared right back at her, pointy like a soft arrow head, covered in a mesmerizing sheen of natural lubrication that collected on the very edge of his tip in the form of a cloudy drop of fertile pre-seed.

As she invariably inhaled his masculine musk deep into her greedy nostrils, Saphira imagined herself drift along his lower belly far enough to taste him...but she wouldn't stop at just a mere lick. No! She would advance further until she felt every last bit of his flesh drift along her wrapping tongue, and then...she would wait. Wait for him to harden. Wait for him to grow...

Wait for the unbearably filling taste of his life-giving seed to erupt into the deep reaches of her engulfing maw...for only in this way could she truly sample his mettle and judge him worthy of fatherhood.

A thick drop of translucent arousal trickled down from her kneading lips onto his sheath. His whine lost to her ears, she was too tightly wrapped in her heated fantasy to realize what she was doing. Saphira lowered herself further and further towards him, until there was but a claw's width between her slit-shaped vent and his own furred sheath. With a long growl of utter longing, in a manner that was anything but gentle, she mashed her nethers down upon his furred shaft, the widening lips of her cunt all too eager to welcome something beneath their wet embrace.

Shuddering from every joint in her body, Saphira snarled with bliss at the semi rough feeling of his fur rub against her sensitive flesh. She kept him there, wrapped in a blanket of tight, tingling flesh and racing desires, tasting him all too briefly until his might paws dislodged her from the object of her truest desires.

She may have wanted his seed, but he made it clear he was not going to part with it so easily. The two clashed in another short lived combat that saw their positions reversed. She was now splayed submissively on her back, with his fierce, elegant paws on each side of her sinuous neck. He could've had her in so many ways...if he but wanted to.

But rather than figure out what kept him from giving himself to his bestial instincts, Saphira made her own desires known by sneaking a hindleg right where he least expected it. Now he was the one to shudder and growl and whine, his dominating presence reduced to a contorted face ravaged by instinctual bliss as his knot was tightly entrapped between her nimble toes, cock tip raining down splatters of fertile smelling pre-seed upon her wet, shining scales.

She looked at him, desire burning in her eyes.

Once he dipped his head to let her know no retribution would come from her rash actions, Saphira treated him to a tighter fit, maneuvering her toes around his bulge until something made the wolf thrust hard into the grip of her paw as if a key suddenly fit in an invisible lock.

She had him right where she wanted to. Licking her maw with lust, she curled her toes even tighter against his knot and savored the wracking might of his rapid thrusts as he tested the grip of her toes with mighty pounding of his hips. Again and again he throbbed, each time harder than the last, until, about a dozen or so thrusts later, his very essence gushed out of him in thick, repeated spurts that painted her aquamarine belly with ivory stripes. He didn't howl or cry out his climax. No. He just whimpered and thrust, emptying his balls on her with undignified sounds hardly fit for such a majestic creature.

Most of the seed hit her scales...but some...some tickled her where she wanted him most. Trapped right there, deep within her-

"Mrrr..." Saphira tensed up against an irresistible wave of flame that rose up from within. The smell of fresh seed, the sight of it...that was too much for her heat-stricken instincts to endure.

Thrusting her own tail up, she unleashed the wolf's erect member from the grip of her paw, letting it bob about in the bare air as her toes curled into the pads of her feet and her tail smashed its length on the ground. Debris rose from the forest floor like the fire of her nethers, sharp and sudden and strong, ascending up her tunnel like a rush of bliss until she splattered herself with three short arcs of heat-water as clear as the bounty of any mountain river, not cold, but hot and pungent, filled with the reek of her heat.

Growling her bliss, trashing about the grassy ground, Saphira pushed out as much heat essence as she could from the spasming walls of her vent. She barely descended from her moment of complete fulfillment when she felt his touch upon her nethers. No. Not his member.

His tongue, brushing over the sea of sludge that were their two life essences mixing together. She tried to get up. To help him. But a single growl from him was enough to let her know she did enough...for now.

After he finished his duties, the wolf lured her into a proper fighting game. He seemed very eager to teach her how to stand her ground against his kin properly, yet her heart and mind remained fixated upon that fugitive moment when their beings mingled as one. To hold him inside her once more in his proper, aroused state...it was a desire stronger than any other. Stronger than fighting. Stronger than eating, drinking, or winning.

Worn out by the many times she found herself trapped under his skillful paws, the wolf nuzzled at her wing joints. She was confused for a moment as to what he wanted until he walked on the edge of the cliff, ears flicking in the wind, nostrils aflame with the scents it brought.

Once it filled her spreading wings, Saphira realized what he wanted her to be. Herself. A creature of the skies. A dragon. Not a mere beast of the forest whose mental resilience broke under her own selfish desires.

Never look too deeply upon the freedom of the high skies. Eragon's voice returned in her mind. They will tempt you, chipping away at all I've taught you until you forget the meaning of safety, for it is up there where the greatest danger awaits you.

I am no dragon, but the past taught me much, my dear Saphira. Once you taste true freedom, the yearning to return to it will return over and over again, and you will wish to linger, more and more...until you're either spotted, or caught. Dangerous is a world where men will sell you to the king's trappers for either gold or glory. Beware the deceitful embrace of the skies...beware...beware...

Filled with doubt, Saphira looked back upon her furred friend. Perhaps Eragon was right. Maybe a wolf, even one who tasted the worst men had to offer, could not effectively assess the danger her rider spoke of. After all, there was a reason why she was the only one left in the world.

Saphira prepared to step back. She would have, were it not for the wolf's weight pressing back against her. Propped with his forepaws against her back as if he sought to couple with her, the wolf pushed her towards the rift of destiny. He was here for her. He! Not Eragon.

And right now...that was good enough.

Wings stretched, Saphira threw herself into the unknown. She fell...until the winds filled her wings and took her in their gentle embrace. She glided above the valley below filled with awe at the splendor of freedom. Where were the doubts? The danger? What were they to the sun's caring warmth cascading upon her scales, or the wind brushing along her outstretched wings?

Up here, she was no earth dweller burdened with worries. She was a dragon. A daughter of the skies!

Growling with bliss, Saphira flew along the length of the twisting river, turning along with it, until her instincts pushed her to ascend. Further and further she flew towards the distant clouds, her mighty wings taking her in a realm where the whispers of the wind was all she could hear, the world, a mosaic of colors stretching below her claw tips.

She knew then what it meant to truly be a dragon. To be free. Unshackled by the responsibilities of her rider or any laws decreed by men. In this realm, she felt...at home. A home she yearned to share with the red of her dreams. She imagined him flying alongside her, rejoicing in the same newfound freedom until he descended back to the earth.

Saphira followed him. He seemed to lead her towards the same cliff she leaped from.

Right to the wolf that awaited her.

Landing right on top of him in a loving display of licks and affection, Saphira bestowed him with all the gratefulness she could offer and some, as she lured him to mount her just like he did before, this time, more intimately. He licked his lips hesitantly at the sight of her kneading lips. Her scents were strong...too strong to resist. From the moment she felt his tongue upon her nethers, Saphira knew there was a single way this would end.

With his seed spurting deep inside her heated womb.

She pushed her vent into his muzzle to get him drunk on her scent. Then...she waited.

Waited for his forelegs to lock around her haunches.

Waited for his aroused cock to kiss her swollen lips.

Waited for that first jab of his hips to meld them together just like she tried before.

But the bliss of sheltering him whole within her came short of her expectations, for he was still a wolf, too eager and rough in his approach. In his mad dash to fill her up with his offspring, his scrapping claws matched the frenzy of his thirsty thrusts, rough and unchiseled as the forest he lived in.

Closing her eyes, Saphira pictured her red again. His flowing licks across her neck. His ridged penis scratching away her itch in such perfect ways. The rough, loving bite that would come when the first spurts of his seed erupted within her...

Roughness, the wolf had plenty, yet even if she desired to be claimed with such wanton desire, Saphira could never ascend to the peak of her pleasure no matter how much she wanted to. His penis not only lacked the ridges of her ideal mate, but the only thing that could make up for his smooth, untextured girth was the bulge. That big, bulbous knot of flesh that eluded the grasp of her muscles only to slip out and ram her over and over again like a storm battering the branches of too gentle a tree. He wanted it within her, just like the wolf too desired.

Yet they could never complete the connection, no matter how much each of them yearned to. She was too loose, and he, too eager.

Ripping herself away from him, Saphira disappeared into the darkened corners of the forest, where she cried herself to sleep to the ethereal presence of her ideal dragon. All too familiar loneliness crept back, along with that cold, darkened thought which haunted her ever since she hatched from her egg surrounded by straw and wood, with no parents or siblings in sight. Why was she alone?

What good was it to survive in a world where every member of your species had been slain by the kin of the man that raised you?

The sun started to bleed in the sky by the time she rose up from her little nest of misery. Passing between the several carcasses strewn about by her fluffy friend in an attempt to regain her affections, Saphira followed her way back to the empty cliff. She stared at the setting sun with a pang of guilt in her heart. He tried so hard...first with meat, then with love, then...by leaving her be...just like she wanted.

Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe a creature of the skies was not meant to mingle with the dwellers of the forest. Yet as she sat on the lonely cliff by herself, waiting and watching the sun give way to moon and stars, Saphira realized how much she despised the lonely way of life her Eragon wished for her.

Like a wolf, she needed a pack where she belonged.

She needed...him!

It wasn't particularly difficult to track his heady scent down to his dens. The real challenge came in the form of the courting rituals he initiated shortly after they were reunited. Leading her on the bank of a moonlit lake with fireflies buzzing peacefully all around, the wolf initiated a fight that relied more on grace rather than strength. Like the ripples of the lake caressed by night's breeze, he prowled around her silent as the night, waiting for her to make her move. With her wings tucked to her body, Saphira joined in, always keeping her distance, mirroring his mesmerizing movements with even greater finesse thanks to her captivating tail. Once he deemed her fit to continue, the wolf led her on a chase around the lake that ended with another vigorous dance where the aim was to nip the other's tail with as soft of a touch as possible. She hardly understood why a dragon like her had to put up with such curious customs, yet throughout the entire ritual, she fed on the very feeling she missed even when her rider was around. That elusive gratification that she belonged with someone that understood her.

After the dance, the wolf skulked into the shadows of the night, making it clear he wished not to be followed. When he returned a moment later, Saphira knew why. In his maw he brought the most resplendent jewel she laid eyes upon; a smoothened sapphire stone as blue as her eyes, plucked from the hands of the humans no doubt. Could it be a gift? Or an offering with a veiled purpose beyond her understanding? That of persevering against the slavery of mankind?

Swift as the wind, Saphira flew back to unearth some of the armaments of the hunters. Under the vigilant eyes of her wolf, she placed them evenly inside each den as means to balance the lives they took...a gesture deeply appreciated by the wolf. He touched his head to hers, and with the silent song of the night to bear witness to their bond, the two solidified their tie; a friendship that started with vengeance and opened the way forward to something more, as the wolf eagerly hinted at by brushing against her flanks with his nose and nudging the base of her tail with his fluffy head.

Saphira's heart swelled with joy, a happiness as hot as her tingling nethers burned for the touch of his love. Yet she was not the instinct ruled female from before. This time, she invited him to clamber on top of her by settling comfortably on her back, with her wings spread as wide as her legs, offering him a perfect view of her dripping depths. He only sampled her tastes briefly, for he preferred to keep his passions for the more meaningful tie that followed. Belly pressed against hers, forelegs wrapped tightly around the base of her sinuous neck, the wolf whined his great pleasure in her ears as his entire girth was swollen by the milking grip of her hungry vent. Grabbing him tight with her own forepaws, Saphira shadowed him under the veil of her large, beautiful wings and began thrusting gently against his swelling knot, making sure he lodged himself as deep as he possibly could. He throbbed as healthily as he licked her, fierce yet smooth, his increasing girth lashing her with sizzling bliss that tested the limits of her endurance.

She tried to avoid giving in before he did...To feel the caressing flow of his seed slither within her empty egg chamber. But it was hard...so hard...and so good at the same time. For once he swelled to full mast both began to stifle the fiery needs of their bodies with loving affection. They shared kisses, licks, caressed each other with paws and teeth alike. Saphira never thought she could feel so fulfilled with a wolf inside her. The way his bulge stretched apart her hungry muscles filled her with a serene sense of completion, of love for the being that shared so much of himself with her. Many times her claws ran gently through his luxurious fur while she shared licks with him, delighting in the sounds of utter pleasure he made whenever he wasn't huffing for another precious breath of cold, crispy air. His peak was coming. She could feel it in the tremors of his body. Hear it in his breath. Smell it in the squelching mess of fluids that oozed out of their union.

Yet the knowledge of his impending release only made hers all the greater, for as soon as she felt his member bloat with the touch of finality inside her, she all but lost the fight with her carnal desires. Spreading her wings far to the sides, grasping him tighter than ever in her clawed embrace, Saphira roared. She roared louder than her Eragon ever advised. Stronger than even she thought possible. Until now she only had fantasies to fill the barren void of her womb with. Ethereal desires spun by a needy mind...for what female could endure the sting of loneliness at the peak of her first heat? Her disregard for Eragon's rules. Her burning sense of vengeance against the hunters. The drive to impress this lonely wolf...

It all led her here, to this moment. Where his tongue splattered her snout in between whimpers and huffs. Claws scratching along the narrow passages formed by her scales. And his shaft, throbbing deep inside her, spurting lances of its most precious of seed that slithered deep, deep within her, filling her lonely void with heat and love and life.

Holding him in her vicious embrace, Saphira milked him for all he had. Squeezing him tight. Loving him hard, like she would a dragon. Though she ran the risk of harming him, in the frenzy of instincts that filled her orgasm-ridden mind, she cared not for such petty risk. All she wished was to hold him. To feel him cum. To make sure he will never, ever pull away from her until he was done...

And even when he did, entwined with her like two perfect mates, she denied every attempts he had at cleaning any part of her, even the thin amounts of saliva that trickled down her jaws. She wanted him for a while longer. To feel, to love, to drain down to the last drop of precious seed, for every dragon had a hoard of something special. Hers was this wolf. He belonged with her this night. With her, and no one else.

***The End***

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