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No Regrets

By AnonEmis

Shadows, they were very unsettling. The crocodile soldier had come to this conclusion from having to stand guard in the ghostly hallway. Every so often, he saw a small smudge of movement among the inky darkness. He chalked it up to nerves; after all, history was about to change in mere moments. He idly fingered the safety on his automatic rifle, flicking it to automatic fire.

The armored warrior began pace restlessly up and down his route in the space station. It was almost maddening, with only the digital bleeps of the security system, the luminescent rays of the moon outside, and the steady thumps of his own heartbeat to sustain him in the otherwise hushed base. The hallway he was in was fairly small; a semicircle ending at each end with an electronically-locked door. The station's lights were off, the Russian base's heating and communications disabled. Just another abandoned Cold War relic. Little did anyone living nearby know, terrorists had taken it. A clear Plexiglas window spanned the entire hallway, giving a beautiful view of the forests on the mountains and the glimmering star lights of the city below. Moscow. In just a few hours, the view would be somewhat less picturesque.

He looked behind him. Another locked door was still standing behind him. Behind that door, Commander Enix would be making the final plans for the operation. It would be finalized at exactly three o'clock. He looked at the analog watch clipped onto his wrist armor. The mercenary had salvaged the antique from the ruins of some bombed out wreck of an Iraqi ruin. The hands of the time-keeping device indicated that it was two-thirty in the morning. The guard's shifty and dagger-sharp eyes moved to look at the base's missile ports embedded into frost-kissed ground. In just a few hours, those missiles would launch, their payload of bio-chemical toxins primed. Other missiles would follow them, using all the warheads the space station could store. There would be dozens. No, thousands! They would blot out the sky like dark angels carrying the divine plague. The planet would be dead; a barren, desolate, message to the Americans, the Russians, to all the infidels of this plagued world. The rebels were a force to be reckoned with.

The mere mention of the rebellion brought pulses of pride shivering down the crocodile's spine. He would be a part of history, his mark upon the cosmos embedded into this planet for all the wretched infidels to see; a legend. He and his comrades would forever be remembered as the people who brought down the sky upon the cities below him. His heart began to race, a steady percussion of excitement.

The percussion abruptly stopped. The stiletto blade, tipped with poison, and lodged just below his heart made sure of that. The knife was expertly thrown, the spinning of the deadly blade bringing the point dead center into the chink between the synthetic plating. As the mercenary silently crumpled to the steel floor, AK-47 clattering to the ground, two figures silently stepped out of the shadows like spectres.

They certainly looked the part; all black armor and dark grey balaclavas. The two soldiers discarded the cloth masks and looked briefly at each other. The larger of the two pulled out the weapon from the limp body's flesh and cleaned the throwing knife on the dead guard's sleeve. He replaced the blade into its sheath and propped the guard up against the wall, cloaked by the shadows. He turned to his companion; the dragon had to suppress a grin at the miffed look his teammate was giving him.

"You and your bloody knives. It's the goddamn twenty-first century, you ancient ninny." The wolf snarled at his reptile comrade. Despite the fearsome fang-filled glare, the wolf's eyes and tone were teasing; the kind a brother would use on his sibling.

"Keep focused on the mission, Bennings." The dragon plaintively spoke, as he unholstered his rifle from his back. He snorted lightly. "Besides, you're just mad that I can do better with a knife than you can do with your high-tech toys."

Bennings reached behind him and drew his shotgun. The wolf arranged his scarred features in a snarl. He took position at the doorframe, gun at the ready.

"I doubt you'll be shanking anyone in the next firefight, Craig."

"That's Lieutenant Amaro to you, soldier." Craig teasingly retorted. "Besides, the knife didn't make any noise, no chatter from these people's comms. So cut the crap, Milton.

Bennings rolled his eyes in mixed indignance and amusement.

"Ass."

He grinned at the end, eyes shining with ferocity. He sighed and then spoke, a touch of nostalgia entering his tone.

"Good to serve with you again, sir." The tiger said.

"The feeling's mutual, Bennings. Heard from the boys at command that you're planning to retire, at 28 no less." Was Craig's response.

Bennings chuckled throatily, he then nodded his head.

"Yep. This is my last mission, after this, I'll go back to London. Buy myself a nice American Harley. Maybe get a chance to reunite with my sister."

"You never mentioned any family, Milton."

"Well, she never really liked my job; said it was too dangerous."

"For me." Craig sniggered. "Serving with you is like fighting alongside a testosterone-filled time bomb."

"Heh. You two got the same snarky attitude, she'd have liked you." Bennings said while eyeing the dragon with humor.

"That's nice, she hot?"

Bennings' eyes narrowed. He curled back his lips in a growl.

"I thought you liked your legs not ripped off, sir." Bennings retorted. His face then changed, looking thoughtful.

"You're still an ass. But, y'know, you two would've made a perfect match; two people with an fucking attitude issue." He added.

Craig was about to respond when his earpiece buzzed to life.

"When you two shit heads are done getting all buddy-buddy, we have a mission to complete." The brisk, no-nonsense, rumble of General Gerral's voice brought back the soldier in the two commandos. General Gerral was a legend in the intelligence agency. Surviving three tours of duty in Operation Iraqi Freedom, participating in dozens of black ops operations, and leading his own branch of the United States Delta Force: codenamed Justice Company. The battle-scarred lion was a myth, the vanguard of the free world. He and his handpicked warriors saving the world countless times over; all off the books.

"Of course sir, we are preparing to breach the main control room of the station." Craig briskly said as he took his position opposite Bennings.

"Good. Your mission parameters have changed. It appears that the terrorists here are not here for the station itself." Gerral said, his voice foreboding.

"Oh? Then what for, General?" Bennings asked, his voice hushed.

Despite the fact that only Gerral's presence with the soldiers was with his voice, each syllable, each word, brought doom. The General's clipped and concise manner of speaking was layered with anxiety, lined with fear.

 "This is no longer an assassination mission. Enix and his cohorts are planning to utilise this base's weapon systems to attack cities. They are attempting to fire all the missiles, directed at Washington, London, Moscow, and Ottawa."

Despite the serenity of the base, a choking, black veil of revelation fell upon the two soldiers. The palatable silence was broken only by the occasional beep of the machinery. Craig met Bennings' eyes, the wolf's eyes showed a mosh pit of emotions, rage and shock dominating the rest.

"Bastards..." He muttered darkly.

Craig took a deep shuddering breath. He found his fingers convulsively clenching the air, groping for an invisible cigarette. He had quit smoking a few years ago, but he longed for the wispy draught of the calming smoke. He settled for clenching his gloved claws into a fist, shaking with anger.

"Projected casualties?" The lieutenant asked in a muttered voice. The wolf wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, to know how many lives were hanging on his shoulders.

"Millions. The bio-toxin missiles will obliterate the capital cities. The winds and waters will carry the toxins planet wide."

"We are not letting that happen." Bennings snarled, anger thickening his voice and his grip on his shotgun tightening. feral anger of the most primitive kind worked its way into Bennings' mind. Worthless scum. The entire lot of these terrorist bastards.

"Damn right, Bennings." Craig agreed. He put his hand back to the earpiece. "General, we'll stop them."

The static crackle of Gerral's voice resonated into Craig's scaly skull.

"I know, gentlemen. I cannot stress how vital the success of the mission is. God bless."

"Hoo-ah." Bennings whispered, the old marine corps battle cry slipping from his lips. The wolf turned to Craig, his brown eyes tinged with a touch of primal madness. The dragon met his comrade's gaze, his own azure eyes wordlessly returning the warrior's ritualistic stare. Two old gladiators prepared to risk it all, to fight, to kill. All to protect the hope for a tomorrow.

"Ready when you are, sir." Bennings spoke, shotgun at the ready.

"Let's give them hell, sergeant."

Craig reached into his satchel and withdrew a flat, square-shaped block. Explosives. He stuck the adhesive side to the door and placed another small device onto the top of the device. The two readied their weapons and prepared to breach. A timer on the breaching charge beeped to life, the digital display blazing itself into both soldier's pupils. It was like time had slowed itself to an agonizing crawl. Every sound was like an individual clap of thunder. Each breath, each heartbeat, each electronic beep of the detonator.

10...

9...

8...

.................................

2 years later

The cerulean waves lapped hungrily at the rocky shore; desperate to claim the cliffs for the ocean's depths. Salty spray exploded from the impact of water and stone. It stained the craggy, scarred face of the rock, still staying strong against the liquid onslaught. Crashes and splashes rent the air. The sounds mingled with the scattered patches of noise emanating from the village just to the east of the lonely, stone cliff. On the top, a lone dragon looked out upon the raging waters and the rapidly dying daylight.

Dressed in casual civilian clothes, jeans and white t-shirt, the dragon looked wistfully at the waves. His arms were clasped behind his back, his posture immaculate, professional. His brawny legs were spread shoulder length apart, feet firmly planted into the rocky ground. His pale, blue eyes stoically observed as the sun descended into the horizon, as if it was allowing the ocean to swallow it. He had old eyes, the kind that had seen it all, and bore the scars of a lifetime in service. He was only thirty years old. The dragon turned his gaze to the heavens, clothed by strips of puffy clouds. Beyond them, he could make out the stars.

The warm, tropical wind breezed in, carrying the tang of the shore and fluttering the dragon's clothes. He took his hand and idly fingered the dog tag necklace resting snug between his muscular chest and white shirt. He never took his steady gaze off the glimmering points of light sitting in space. If he had let his imagination run a bit more freely, he would have seen a face, stars forming into a coherent form. Into the shape of Sergeant Milton Bennings' face. Craig Amaro fervently hoped that Milton had made his way to the stars; to heaven. While on Earth, Craig was stuck here, living with in the dark, dank, grip of guilt.

He let his gaze flit away from the stars and over to the village. Officially, it was known as the Bijou Resort Island, a luxury tourist attraction. However, he had adopted the local name, Havre. He now lived there, in a modest little apartment building. He tried his damndest to try and start anew, drowning his guilt in the crowd, women, and alcohol. The crowd was his therapy, the kind that even that blasted psychologist couldn't match. The noise, the activity; they blocked out the voices. The voices that always hounded him relentlessly, the ones that ravaged his consciousness in the middle of the night when he was all alone. It had been a couple of years since that mission.

Craig huffed in frustration.

Still too early for those demonic voices to finally leave him be.

Craig turned and lurchingly hobbled to his motorcycle. His eyes began to dilate his blue irises fogging over, just like the clouds above had shrouded the sky. Memories, vivid and surreal, made their way into his vision. He began to let his past become his present...

..............................

Craig was standing on a stage, decked out in his formal uniform, with medals and ribbons swathing his chest. He dispassionately stood at attention, an automaton rather than a person. He did not care about his fellow soldiers saluting him in front of the stage, nor did he care about the slovenly fat officer pinning another useless trinket to his uniform. His ears did not, could not, process any sound. He only faintly heard the scratchy tone of the old eagle officer commending him with empty words.

"...Hero... Killed Commander Enix... Saved the capital cities of countless countries... Inspiration..."

The words of the eagle had been empty. Hollow. They rang inside Craig's head and echoed; for they had no place to go. Craig had watched as all the soldiers present saluted. Cheers broke out among his fellow operatives and they began to celebrate. Laughter, glee, and relief gushed into the atmosphere of the banquet hall. And Craig stood to the side, impervious to any of those emotions. He did manage to salvage some relief at the end of the day. Although it was not the kind of relief he was looking for. It was the kind that one had at the end of a murderous and brutal ordeal. The kind of relief that told you that the worst was over, but there was still more coming.

"Hero! Hero! Hero!" The soldiers had adopted this mantra, as if they were placing Craig on a pedestal.   

....................................

Craig had remembered snorting in self-contempt and loathing. He didn't feel like a hero. Not a single damn bit. He may have "saved the world," but Bennings had died. Killed by that bastard Enix. The only small comfort Craig had was that Enix had soon paid with his life.

"Damn it!" Craig muttered as the dragon was snapped back to the present only to delve deeper into his buried past...

....................................

3...

2...

1...

The controlled explosion of the shaped bomb blasted the door off the sturdy hinges. The blackened hunk of metal fell to the ground with a metallic clang, though not before Craig and Bennings stormed inside, weapons primed and adrenaline racing through every vein. Their eyes locked onto their targets: three ferrets, faces covered by red bandanas. The middle one, Enix, looked to have been busy typing on a keyboard. His guards were already scrambling for their weapons lying on a table opposite the main control panel. A blast from Bennings' shotgun turned one guard into a bloody hunk of meat. The other was put down with a single shot to the throat from Craig's assault rifle. None of the unfortunate terrorists had a chance to fire. None of them except for Enix.

The ferret had whipped around in a flash, his pistol at the ready. Craig remembered his eyes. They were twin daggers of rage; the angry fires fueled by delusional self-righteousness, as if he were the good guy. As if he was the vessel of the holy vengeance and mass genocide his twisted solution. Craig had him in his sights, his head bisected by the crosshairs of his gun. Enix got one shot off. One. One solitary fucking bullet. It was one too many for Bennings.

Craig could only look from the corner of his eye as Milton collapsed to the ground with a grunt, shotgun dropping alongside him. Craig had seen it all, all from his peripheral vision. He didn't care. The rage, the adrenaline, the determination characteristic to a soldier had grabbed Craig's mind and hurled it like a spear at his target. The dragon commando had watched with savage satisfaction as the ferret's chest was peppered with solid metal slugs, geysers of blood spraying from his shirt. Craig's finger had slammed the trigger as far as it would go, not stopping until the rifle clicked empty and Enix's body keeled over like a grotesque marionette.

The dragon was torn, the pleading hands of friendship fighting for priority against the grip of Craig's duty as a soldier. His duty won. Craig dashed over the bodies of the fallen and reached the console. He took a look at the screen. His entire body heaved with a long, drawn out, sigh. He looked down. The key required to launch the protocols was still clamped in the terrorist's paws. Enix hadn't got a chance to activate the missile's launch protocols.

As quick as the galvanizing fear and anger had gone, they returned. Lightning flashed in Craig's brain as his ears picked up on a wet, hacking cough.

"Bennings!" Craig screamed as he rushed to his fallen comrade, his hand already on his ear-comm.

The wolf had propped himself against the wall, paw gripping the gunshot wound on his breast in a literal death grip. Bennings' eyes were tightly screwed shut, fangs in a primal grimace, and breaths coming in short, shallow puffs. Craig fell to his knees beside his friend, one claw groping for his first-aid kit while the other pressed a button to his mic.

"Command!" Craig yelled hoarsely into his earpiece. Hot tears streamed down his scaly face, collecting into small pools around his dimples. "Command! Bennings is hit! We need a medi-vac right now, he needs a doctor!"

"Don't bother..."

"What?" Craig looked into Bennings' eyes. He had never noticed them, how deep they were, like liquid. The rich colour of the wolf's eyes were quickly beginning to drain away, feeding the thirsty maw of Death.

"Don't bother, Craig..." Bennings whispered, his formally powerful voice reduced to an echo. "Bastard got me."

"Shut up, Sergeant! You are not dying on me now!" Craig snarled as he took out a tourniquet and pressed down hard on Bennings' chest wound. Blood was everywhere, pooling on the spotless steel floor. It stained Bennings' uniform and Craig's hands. Craig abruptly stopped the first aid as Bennings' paw gently pushed away his. Bennings then placed his paw on Craig's claw; a final handhold to life.

"You're gonna be fine Milton. You're gonna make it, you're gonna fuckin' make it Milton..." Craig murmured fervently. However, Bennings only smiled, content and serenity washing over his face. He sadly shook his head, the faraway smile still on his snout.

"You need to get out o' here sir..." Bennings' body was racked with an assault of heavy coughs, blood cascading from his maw and staining his chestplate.

"Not without you!"

"That won't be possible, Craig... Don't worry, I'm good." Bennings voice was like a wisp of wind, soft and fleeting. "You just saved the world, Craig..."

"WE saved the world, sergeant." Was Craig's husky response. Despair manifested itself in his heart. It was a hammer, pounding relentlessly at him.

"Yeah..." Bennings was forced to pause as a fresh wave of coughs attacked his body.

"C'mon, Bennings, I'm getting you out of here!" Craig said as he tried release his hand from the wolf's. Bennings' only reaction was to tighten his grip. He sluggishly shook his head, chin stained crimson by his own blood.

"I'm at peace. It doesn't even hurt anymore..." He whispered. "Just wish you could've met my sister, I'm her only family..."

"No, no, no, no..." Craig kept muttering as he tightened his pressure on the tourniquet. Tears were falling from his eyes, a waterfall of emotion and angst.

Bennings' head lolled to the side, his smile faded, as did the fire from the wolf's eyes. He inhaled with some difficulty, fighting for his last breath.

"I got no regrets, Craig. I'm glad I could call you... friend."

The wolf closed his eyes and his limp, cold paw fell from Craig's hold.

.................................

With a loud, metallic clang, Craig walked straight into his Harley motorcycle. He stumbled, his arms flailing and tail slashing the air to keep his balance. He recovered and rubbed his shins.

"Shit.." He darkly muttered. Craig suddenly shook his head violently. The voices were coming back.

"No regrets." Bennings' last words rung into Craig's skull like the diseased peals of a bell.

Craig began to clench his fists and snarled, trying to scare off the invisible demons in his mind. He needed to escape. Picking up his helmet which had been thrown on the ground by his clumsy collision, he walked towards the chopper, making sure the bike wasn't dented. Satisfied that there was no damage, the dragon hopped onto his bike and revved the throttle. The powerful engine came to life with a fury, the throaty rumblings of the over-sized motor deafening him and the voices. He released the throttle and roared down the desolate dirt path. He didn't look back once at the lonely cliff top.

......................................

He soon arrived at the outskirts of town. Already the music of the local musicians and their guitars interwove their whimsical music into the air. He slowed a down a little and inhaled deeply. Spices and sugar filled his nostrils; byproducts of the roadside stands selling local delicacies to the throngs of pedestrians casually strolling down the sidewalks. He weaved his way expertly between the cars clogging the small roads. Craig roared into the main boulevard, narrowly dodging an ancient Volkswagen with a taxi sign taped to the roof.

"And these are the people I used to protect..." He muttered under his breath.

He pulled onto a small side street. Looking up at the view, he could see the airport. He shook his head in disgust, the glass and steel structure was an abomination. It towered over the humble villas of the neighborhood, like the ever-watching eye of Western expansion. Craig had spent all his savings and pension on getting a place here, to get away from America, the Justice Company, and the west in general. Now, there was a huge fucking reminder planted smack dap in the middle of the town.

He looked dispassionately at the tourists gathered at the exit of the main terminal, they looked so happy, so carefree. Their problems probably consisted of what restaurant to go to first, whether or not their cameras were fully charged, or how to find their way to a hotel.

Stopping at a red light, he saw a fox and an owl piling into a cab, the same one that nearly ran him over just a few minutes ago. He could tell they were tourists, canines and northern birds were rare here. The huge backpacks strapped to them were also a dead giveaway. Moments later, the two rushed out of the cab, as if they were in a panic. Craig suppressed a grin. The cab interior must not have been up to their lofty standards. Or perhaps the reputation of the cabbies in this town had preceded the driver. Whatever. The rusty traffic light flashed from red to green and traffic began to move. Craig revved up his cycle and casually gave the finger to the asshole behind him who decided to honk his tinny little horn.

.................................

A few turns later, he arrived at his favorite watering hole. The Green Boa. Ignoring the fading sign painted onto the door, strode inside. It looked empty, save for the bartender, passed out on the counter with his own product. Ready for a drink, he was about to make a beeline to the bar, when a smudge of movement caught his trained eye.

"Let me go!" A shrill shriek pierced the air.

A young woman, a wolf who didn't look a day over 22, was struggling desperately against the iron grip of a seedy looking crocodile. She was certainly making it hard on him though, she aimed several kicks at her aggressor. It didn't seem to work on the crocodile. He had that predatory look, his primal grin telling Craig exactly what this guy was going to do to this girl.

"I'm sorry, missy, but you've gotta pay me in some way..." The crocodile slurred, alcohol permeating his sour breath.

"Let go! I can't pay you, I'm sorry!" The wolf yelled.

"Don't worry," The drunkard sniggered, as he started to roughly drag the female wolf to the back door. "I can think of a way you can repay me... Ha-haaa..."

Craig had enough. He closed the distance between him and the pair in two steps and seized the crocodile's scaly wrist. He glared into the drunk's eyes, menace and cold calculation radiating from the icy irises.

"The lady asked you to back off."

The crocodile, slovenly fat in his grimy wife-beater, jerked his arm out of Craig's grasp. He harshly laughed out loud, spittle flying into Craig's face. He let go of the lady and faced Craig, a sneer that covered half of his face plastered onto his face like a very ugly painting.

"The fuck you think you are?" The drunkard snorted. He wound back his fist in an awkward windup. With a ragged snarl, he punched.

Military training kicked in for Craig. As easily as drawing breath, his hand shot out and snatched the crocodile's clenched fist. He jerked back, sending the drunk off kilter. Before anyone in the room could blink, Craig had wrapped the drunkard's punching arm around his shoulder. Using his hip as an organic fulcrum, he lifted the rotund aggressor right off his feet and over his shoulders in a fireman's throw. With a silent snarl, Craig spun and slammed the crocodile straight into the ground. A resounding crunch echoed loudly in the bar. Without looking at the fruits of his handiwork, Craig turned to the wolf. To his mild surprise didn't look shocked at his fighting skills. Rather, she had a look of grim satisfaction on her face. She brushed the strands of honeysuckle-blond hair out of her eyes and sighed in relief. She glanced at the bartender; still passed out. The wolf then faced Craig.

 "Wow. Thank you so much, sir."

"No need to call me sir." Craig said. He then mentally kicked himself. Not in the military dumbass!

The wolf chuckled, a ringing tinkly laugh. It reminded Craig of the church bells in his old town. Clear, and almost divine.

"Alright then," She spoke, a playful twinkle in her eyes, "What should I call you?"

She had beautiful eyes, he thought. They were like chocolate, two vast and deep vats of chocolate. They seemed to draw the dragon in, hypnotising him with their deep gaze. It was foreign and alien to him, yet so familiar to his subconscious. In the throes of this strange, awkward limbo, a bridge in his memory resurfaced. He began to have strange feelings, ones he thought long buried when he joined the military. Was it possibly? No...

"Hello?"

The wolf's voice snapped Craig back to the real world. He blushed underneath his pearly white scales, and rapidly blinked. What was happening to him? He never lost his composure, not under a hail of bullets, and certainly not under the prying look of this girl.

"Sorry, my name's Craig. I used to be military man, old habits die hard I guess."

"They certainly do." The wolf remarked, giving a cursory glance at the inert figure of the crocodile strewn on the floor.

"He'll be fine." Craig assured, noticing the wolf's look.

She shook her head and smirked.

"Shame. He deserved it."

An awkward pause feel upon the two, the pall of silence unbroken for a few minutes.

"Anyways," Craig blurted out. "You wouldn't mind telling how you got into this mess, would you?"

"Umm. It's a bit personal, Craig." The lady spoke uncertainly, letting a trace of nervousness into her voice.

Craig crossed his bulky arms.

"Then at least tell me your name."

"That I can do." The female wolf said. The quirky tone was back in her speech.

"It's Erika. And... I do suppose I owe you an explanation. After all, you did just save me. Do you mind if we got some distance from this place?"

Craig nodded, he turned around and beckoned for Erika to follow.

"Sure, I know a nice outdoors café near here, can we talk there?"

"Sounds good," Erika smiled slightly. Pausing for a moment to pick up her small shoulder bag from the floor, she followed Craig out of the stuffy bar and into the sunlight. They walked around to the back, where Craig's Harley was sitting. Erika's brown eyes lit up with childish glee when she spotted the shiny black chopper.

"Gosh, is that yours!?" She exclaimed, striding over to the motorcycle to get a better look.

"Yeah, it is. It take it you approve?" Craig said amusedly.

"A Harley Night Rod. Over a thousand cc's and a 105 bore engine. Hmm, you're damn right I approve!" She laughed, once again introducing Craig's ears to her tinkly laugh.

"I didn't realize you were that into choppers." Craig remarked.

"Well," Erika replied, a teasing tone in her voice as she picked up the passenger helmet and fondled it in her paws. "You don't know me very well just yet."

Craig found himself grinning broadly, it had been a while since he had genuinely smiled. He grabbed his helmet from the bike and mounted the ride, Erika taking a spot right behind him. He craned his head to look at her.

"Speaking of knowing each other, we're still strangers. How do you know I'm not another rapist, or a creep?" He asked as he peered intently at the bemused looking wolf behind him.

Erika's only response was to smirk, her lips pursing slightly.

"I just know you aren't. The way you walk, the way you carry yourself, you probably lived by the book all your life!"

"Maybe I'm just acting." He retorted.

Erika gave a small tsk and shook her head.

"Nope, military men don't "act". You're straighter than the Panama Canal, Craig." Erika then brought a finger to her chin in mock thought. "To be honest, I find military men boring."

"Ah, we got ourselves a witty one here, huh?" Craig said, his eyes narrowing mischievously. "Let's see how stuck-up you think I am after this."

With no further banter, he revved the throttle and the monster of an engine blared to life in a rumbling fury. He raced out of the small parkway and into traffic, expertly weaving in and out of traffic with ease. He always felt the most alive in moments like these. Since he was no longer a soldier, he had to turn to other methods of getting his adrenaline rush. There was something about the thrill of being on the edge of life and death, having your own life in your hands. That was something that joy-riding and fighting had both had. He felt a pair of arms wrap around his mid-section. Without looking back, he knew that was Erika holding on for dear life. He winced a little and slowed down. The woman had a vise-like grip.

.......................................

They got to the café without much incident, although Erika had a distinct green pall to her rosy cheeks. As they parked beside the sidewalk, Craig had to reach a claw to steady Erika, who was swaying on the passenger seat.

"Never mind, military men are assholes." She groaned, clamping a paw to her stomach. She stumbled just behind Craig as they made their way down the gravel path to the door.

They walked into the small building, a mound of wood and glass in the middle of a lush, green park. It was very cozy and calm, a stark contrast the mosh pit outside. Upon entering, they were greeted by an enthusiastic orca who immediately began to bow profusely.

"Welcome to the Savannah, my name is Emery and I am the greeter here." The orca looked up and glanced at Craig. His black and white face lit up in a broad grin as he recognized the dragon.

"Ah! Craig! How are you? And who is your lovely friend?"

Craig smiled a little at the young man's jubilant greeting.

"I'm doing good, Emery, thanks. This is-"

"My name's Erika. We just met, actually."

Emery raised the closest thing to an eyebrow an orca had. He looked from Erika to Craig, who looked slightly miffed at being cut off. Emery finally snickered and nodded.

"Well I'm sure you'll enjoy each other's company. A pleasure to meet such a confident woman."

"I'm sure we will," Erika spoke, letting a flirtatious undertone into her voice. "Craig is very charming."

Emery's grin grew even wider when he spotted twin blotches of red on Craig's scaly cheeks. He took pity on the snow-coloured dragon, however much he enjoyed seeing his normally collected friend squirm.

"C'mon, I'll lead you to your table. If you'll follow me..."

Emery strode to a back door and flung it open gracefully. The pair followed the orca out of the shady hut and into the wide-open garden area. Tables, covered in elegantly-stitched table clothes dotted the wooden floor like pieces on a chessboard: orderly and evenly-spaced. Every few meters, an ornate iron pole would protrude from the floor, swathed in flowering vines and tipped with a bright lamp. The café was sparsely occupied however, a few older couples sitting at the larger tables and some teenagers appearing to be celebrating an event. Emery let Craig and Erika to a round table situated in the corner of the walled space.

Emery both sat them both down in the wicker chairs and cheerily took their orders. A beer for Craig and a glass of wine for Erika. As Emery left, Craig began to actually get a good look at his wolf companion. Erika was obviously a tourist, although she definitely looked good. A white and teal cardigan with a silver pendant adorning her elegant, yet strong neck. She wore a pair of blue jeans, hugging her hips and running down her perfect legs only to end just below her knees. The wolf had the most luscious fur and hair Craig had ever seen. It was a soft, creamy colour; ending in glittering white tips. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, some golden strands falling to the sides of her soft-yet-angular face like a picture frame. Her eyes were chocolate-brown, two endless pools of light. They sparked something in Craig, as if subtlety tugging at his subconscious, trying to release long-forgotten memories. Despite the heat, Erika didn't look the least bit uncomfortable. In fact, she seemed at home, legs crossed and eyes casually flitting over the menu left on the table. She glanced up just in time to see Craig quickly picking up a menu to veil his stares. She giggled a little and smiled warmly.

"This is a very nice place, Craig." She said off-handedly, initiating conversation.

Craig looked sheepishly up from his menu.

What's happening to me? Thoughts ran around in his head like hamsters on a wheel, running so fast yet getting nowhere. He had never felt this way before, the dragon thought he had buried all his needless emotions when he retired. But now, standing in front of this beautiful female... Damn it! Craig knew he had never met Erika before, he swore on his grave. But, she seemed so familiar" the eyes, the attitude... Was he going insane? Did the years killing for a living finally catch up? How come he can't remember? He knew the girl, he must have!

"I'm glad you like the place, Erika." He gruffly replied, his eyes staring daggers at the menu.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Erika had leaned a bit over the table, tilting her head to try and see Craig's eyes. This did little to placate Craig's mind; by leaning over, Erika had accidently let her breasts lie upon the table like two stuffed pillows. Craig's eyes acted by themselves, refusing to be torn from the less-than appropriate sight.

"No, not really. Just thinking." He finally said, managing to veil his stare.

Erika raised an eyebrow, before casually brushing loose strands of her hair out of her eyes. Her very beautiful eyes...

"Really? Thinking about what?" She asked.

"...Things." Was Craig's vague response.

"You don't say." Erika smirked.

Craig frowned, his teeth gritting and grinding together.

"Well sorry for not spilling out my soul to a stranger." He angrily muttered. He then quickly huffed while shaking his head.

"...Sorry, I'm just..." The dragon apologized. He reached over his head and rubbed his horns awkwardly.

"Don't worry about it, Craig. I can tell you've got some scars you'd rather keep hidden." Erika quietly said. Craig's eyes looked up from the table to Erika. The wolf had a small, sympathetic smile on her lips. The jokes were gone, it seemed.

"That was pretty deep," Craig remarked, trying to shift the tone of the conversation to less awkward waters. "You an art major?"

Erika closed her eyes, her slight shoulders racking in small giggles. She opened her eyes again; they were mischievous and care-free.

"If I were an art major, I'd be in this café working instead of sitting. I actually majored in psychology."

"Oh, so I'm speaking to a shrink. I never would have thought."

"Well Craig," Erika teased, "There's a lot you don't know about me."

There was a pause in the conversation, the pair both furtively staring at each other. Confusion crawled like worms into both their heads. Who was this person? Why am I so interested? Where did I see this person before? These were the questions that were scampering through the duo's brains. They were thankfully interrupted by Emery, who set down a bottle of beer for Craig and a glass of white wine for Erika.

"There isn't a lot I know about you." Craig finally agreed. He then fixed his azure eyes onto his companion. "For instance, why were you being attacked by a drunken crocodile?"

There was a definite change in Erika's attitude. The wolf looked down at her clasped paws. Every other second, she would nibble her bottom lip. Her confident swagger was gone, driven away by flickers of nervousness. Her face seemed conflicted, as if her emotions were using it as a battlefield. After a moment of silent, inward debate, Erika finally took a deep breath of air and looked up at Craig.

"I came here to find someone."

Instinctively, Craig's military habits sparked up. Not a tourist, but someone with a goal instead of a vacation. He was intrigued.

"Well, it looked as if you'd run into some problems back at that bar. Seems like more trouble than it's worth; trying to find that person I mean."

"Yeah, If you hadn't been there..."

"You seem very quick to trust, if you were in the military, you'd get killed."

Erika huffed indignantly. "Please, I am a very good judge of character." She then looked away sheepishly. "I just made a mistake with that asshole. But I trust you."

"I take it that there's a connection between that crocodile and your friend?" Craig asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"Yeah. This island may look nice, but the people here are completely unscrupulous. Not like Canada at all."

A Canadian, Craig randomly thought.

"If you talk to the wrong people, you'll run into some tight problems here alright." He commented, his rumbling voice empathetic.

Erika ran a paw through her blond hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

"It's kind of ironic, I came here to try and fix a problem actually."

Craig remained silent, his blue eyes and gentle expression encouraging her to continue.

 "I'm here because this is where my ex is living."

Craig's lips set in a hard line.

"That's it? You came all the way here just to get your boyfriend back? You risked your life; you'd have been raped if I hadn't walked into that bar!"

Craig regretted his harsh tone, but the military had taught him to move on when you take a loss. Having someone laughing and talking beside you one moment and them lying on the ground dead the next could get you killed if you didn't move on.

"No! It's not like that!" Erika now had a noticeable tinge of rouge around her round cheeks. They were like spots of blood in a bed of snow. She continued, her usually clear voice flustered. "See, he's gay."

"Pardon?" Craig asked, tilting his head slightly. His eyes were now wide open.

Her blush grew even hotter. Her mouth dropped open, in slight awe at her idiocy. She swore under her breath and brought a paw to slap her forehead. Erika glanced up at Craig, who managed to prevent himself from bursting out laughing. Instead he simply waited

"Anyways..." Erika sheepishly continued, "His name's Hunter. He's a tiger."

"So you came here to try and win back Hunter's heart?" Craig asked, slightly incredulous.

"No! I came to apologize." She firmly stated.

"Why?"

Erika's face became guilty; her cheeks were now like two tomatoes and she began to absent-mindedly stroke her hair.

"When Hunter confessed to me that he was gay, I didn't take it very well."

"What did you do?" Craig asked. He however, had a hunch of how she reacted.

The wolf hid her face in her paws, her shoulders began to shake. She was trembling.

"I threw a picture frame at him... Nearly took his eye out. And that's not the worst part." She murmured from behind her paws, her voice quiet and muffled. "I yelled at him, kicked him out of our apartment, and turned all his friends and mine against him. I even called him some... names."

A single tear, shining and sparkling, rolled from underneath her fingers and fell into her glass of wine.

"Hey, it's alright..." Craig whispered. He leaned over the table. The dragon then extended his arm and gently placed it on her shoulder. He held it there, steadying Erika's shuddering frame until she stopped shaking and stopped sobbing. After a minute, her gasps faded, her breath returning to normal. She removed her hands from her face and brushed some stray tears from her eyes. The wolf looked up sadly at Craig, red lines of red criss-crossing her beautiful eyes.

"Thanks." She quietly said. Her voice was dull and lifeless but her face looked as if it would collapse into tears at any moment.

"You came here to apologize?" Craig asked softly, while leaning back in his chair. He looked at Erika, the wolf's lips in a tight line.

"Yeah. Hunter and I were together for five years. He was the kindest, sweetest, smartest guy I ever met! And God, I thought he was the one. But when he told me he was gay, and ended the relationship..." Erika sadly bit her lip. "I freaked out, turned into a huge bitch. He always thought of me, and I messed up his entire life. I was such a fucking jack ass!"

"Well, he did put a lot on your plate at once." Craig remarked, a sympathy under-laying his tone.

"Yes, he did." Erika bitterly agreed. "But that doesn't excuse what I did to him, and I need to let him know that I was a bitch and I'm sorry."

"But why come here? Why not wait until after he came back?"

Erika quickly rubbed some more tears from her red-rimmed eyes.

"I heard from some friends. Hunter actually moved here, not just on vacation. He came here with his friend, Dante. He's a dragon too."

Her voice became quiet, a timid whisper.

"I heard that they're together now. Happy with each other."

"But you don't seem happy about it." Craig said.

"I am! I'm glad they got together, they seemed like brothers. But I feel guilty. I need to find Hunter, tell him in person that I'm sorry and that I wish him the best. But I messed up. I lost my luggage in the airport, then got pickpocketed. All I have right now are my cell phone, my purse, and ten Canadian dollars. I tried to ask around, find some cheap motel, but if you hadn't been there, the owner of one would have done really bad things to me."

Erika then fell silent, her eyes searching Craig's; waiting for his response.

"Don't you think," Craig's usually gruff voice was gentle and tender. "That you should move on?"

Erika's eyes widened.

"What?"

"You can't beat yourself up over something in the past. Hunter sounds like he moved on. Maybe you should do the same."

Erika clenched her jaw, she began to sit up straight and stiff in her seat. Her face was unreadable, but tense. Her eyes, however, were in chaos. They were a window into the battle in her mind and heart. The wolf opened her maw to speak, but instead let out a small sigh.

"Maybe you're right. Did you pick that up in the military too?"

Craig managed to give a weary smile.

"When any one of your friends could die at any moment, you have to be able to let go; you might jeopardize the mission if you don't. I learned that the hard way."

"Is that what you were thinking about earlier?"

"Yeah, but it's not a happy story."

Erika glanced down first at her untouched glass of wine, then at Craig's still full beer.

"I'm a good listener. It helps if you have someone willing to just listen.

Craig thought for a while. This wolf, this stranger had just poured out her deepest secret to him, a stranger as well? Why? Craig dug deeper. The thing that unnerved him most was that he trusted her too. In fact, he began to care genuinely care about her. What was going on with him? Every time their eyes made contact, Craig's heart would skip a beat, and his strong muscles would turn to jelly. Was he falling in love? And why did he feel like he already knew her?

Craig pushed these thoughts out of his head and spoke.

"Alright."

For the next half hour, Craig talked and drank. Beer after beer he downed, and with each sip of the brew, he told more. He was not supposed to talk about the black-ops missions but he didn't give a damn. He told Erika of his last mission; the one where Bennings had lost his life. He told Erika of killing the guard, breaching the control room, Bennings getting shot, and helplessly watching as Bennings died in his arms. All the while, Erika had listened, making no sound at all. Finally she spoke.

"You okay?"

"No. I'm not. Because of me, a good man lies dead."

Erika frowned. "Because of what you, millions of people are still living their lives in peace. I lived in Ottawa, you may have saved my life."

Craig grunted. His mind had been reduced a jumble of alcohol induced lethargy. Thoughts, like ghosts flitted around his head, while he tried and failed to catch them.

"If I may," Erika whispered. "Could you tell me what your friend's name was?"

"Milton." Was his slurred response.

There was a distinct change in Erika's attitude, her eyes widened and her ears straightened from underneath her hair.

"What?" Erika's voice was urgent. "You're sure?"

"His name haunts me daily." Craig groaned, cradling his swimming head in his hands. "He was a cocky sonofabitch, but had guts when it counted. He was a smartass, though not as witty as you are. He was a good man, a damn great soldier, and an amazing friend..."

Hot tears began to pool into Craig's eyes, but the dragon forced them down, blinking rapidly. He never showed weakness, never.

"Before he died, he told me that he wished I met his sister, that we would've liked each other. I should've met her, told her what happened. I really wish I met her."

Erika was silent. Through Craig's blurred vision, he could have sworn that her eyes were a bit watery.

"...Thank you for telling me. I'm sure his... sister would have loved to meet someone like you."

Erika reached over the table and placed a paw gently onto Craig's. Their eyes made contact, two brown ones gazing at two blue ones. No more words were exchanged, the electricity coursing between the pair connected them more than mere words could.

"If you don't have a place to stay, you're more than welcome to stay at my apartment." Craig suddenly said. He immediately slapped himself mentally. What the hell did he say that for? He was ripped from his thoughts when Erika spoke.

"I didn't realize that was an option, Craig. I'd like that." Erika said. "If it's not too much trouble." She quickly added.

"No worries, Erika." Craig replied, letting small coy tone into his voice. "It's an option."

Erika grinned, her eyes twinkling.

"Lead the way. You're good to drive, right?" She asked.

"If I can dodge hails of bullets, I sure as hell can drive home." Craig replied, his broad grin plastered all over his face.

..............................

A few minutes and a lot of near-crashes later, Craig was standing in the living room of Craig's apartment. The large bay windows gave an amazing view of the quaint village, which was no less busy in the nighttime. Music could be heard emanating from the crowded streets, their melodies just quiet whispers in the room.

From the hallway to his left, he could hear the sounds of the shower running, with Erika inside. He had a lot of women in his apartment, but those were really just one-night stands, he never really got to know them before they left in the morning. But with Erika, it was strange. They told their deepest secrets to each other; ones they thought long buried and forgotten. They only knew each other for a day, but it felt like years. When they got back to his apartment, they talked some more. Turns out she was twenty-five; only 5 years younger than him. She lost both of her parents when she was little, with only her big brother to take care of her. Despite her rough start to life, she tanked on. She breezed through school, getting a scholarship to college. She was currently working as an assistant in a therapist's office. When Erika had asked about his early life, Craig's dour response was:

"The military's in my blood."

She had never asked further, only smiling her infectious smile and politely asking where the bathroom was. Craig could hear her humming in the shower; her clear, ringing voice putting songbirds to shame. She seemed like a perfect example of the perfect woman. Smart, beautiful, witty, and kind. She had a very nice body too, a perfect hourglass. It wouldn't be hard for him to go in, it was his bathroom after all...

He slapped himself, for real this time. He flared the crests on his head in annoyance. His dad had told him to never let his dick to the thinking. His head was all mixed up, the alcohol and his heart not making it easier.

"Craig!"

The muffled cry echoed in the dragon's ears. He stood up and went to the bathroom door. The shower and stopped and he could hear the sound of the taps being turned off.

"Yeah?"

"Is it all right if I could use your towel?"

"Oh crap!" Craig exclaimed, slapping his forehead with his palm. "I forgot to add the guest towels. Of course you can use mine, sorry."

"No, it's okay. Thanks. For everything." Erika replied through the door. "You've been really great to me."

Craig blushed at the compliment, despite how small it was. He found himself smiling dumbly at the bathroom door.

"So have you."

There was a pause in the conversation, punctuated by the occasional squeaks as Erika dried herself.

"You know, my brother was in the military too."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, he was absolutely crazy about motorcycles too. He would have been screaming if he'd seen your chopper."

Craig noticed the past tense used.

"Would have?" He carefully asked.

The sound of the sink faucet resonated in his ears. He heard a few sniffles. Erika's voice sounded through the door, her voice was nostalgic.

"Yeah...  Anyways, the army was his life-long dream, he got sent overseas a lot, I never really saw him much. We kept up via e-mail. He would tell me all about military life and his new commander. Whoever that commander was, he had a freaking fanboy in my brother."

"Sounds like he was very enthusiastic." Craig said.

"Yeah... I miss him. But at least I got the chance to meet that commander he really admired. I really liked that guy, when I met him. He was a good person."

"Really? Who was it?"

The dragon heard a small slap in the bathroom.

"Never mind, Craig."

Craig rolled his blue eyes. "I hate it when people say that, but if you say so..."

"Don't get all pissy on your guest." Erika lightly retorted, a teasing tone on her voice. "Anyways, a handsome guy like you shouldn't still be single, got a special girl somewhere?"

Craig laughed, "You're gonna have to better than that if you want me to blush."

"So that's a no?"

Craig leaned back against the door, debating within himself.

Go for it. The voices in his head told him that.

"Well," He slowly began. "I met someone recently."

"Oh?" Erika's voice through the door had become interested, Craig could almost feel her leaning against the door on the other side.

"I didn't know her very well, but we talked and I really liked her." Craig coyly grinned, his bulky arms and legs crossed as he leant against the wall.

"So you've got a hot date lined up for her?" Erika teased.

"Definitely, but I'm not sure. I'm don't know if she's interested or not." He flirted.

There was another brief pause. It was only a minute, but to both of them it felt like aeons. Then, the dragon heard a slight click. Craig saw the door open and then Erika stepped out, naked except for the towel wrapped under her arms. Her chocolate coloured eyes glinted with breathless wanting and her hair was draped across her bare shoulders, framing her stunning face. Craig looked down and saw her legs, slim and swimsuit worthy. She stepped forward and stood in front of Craig. She pinned him to the wall with her arms and pressed her body against his.

"She's interested." She said, her voice husky and sultry. She then leaned her muzzle to his, and gently placed her lips on his. It was sheer ecstasy for both of them, having spent a long time alone and then finding someone. Their tongues were two snakes, charmed by love. They swirled, and they touched, reveling in the taste of the other's tongue.

They broke apart, panting heavily and their eyes clouded with lust.

"Okay, I lied." Erika breathlessly said. "I find military men very exciting."

"And I find wolves very exciting." Craig whispered. His strong hands found their way down Erika's frame, exploring every curve through the cotton bath towel. He reached her hips and then her rump, groping the flesh. With a single heave, he lifted wolf up; his face now level with Erika's full breasts. As Erika wrapped her arms around his sinewy neck, they kissed again. With his long tongue, he teasingly flicked it over the nape of her neck, reveling in the soft moans coming from her maw.

While their lips were still locked, Craig carried Erika to his bedroom before laying her face-up on the mattress., her eyes daring Craig to go further. He obliged. With a single claw, he grabbed the towel and cast aside. He stood over Erika's naked frame for a minute, drinking in the erotic view. His eyes hungrily stared at her full breast, before going down and gazing at her nether-region, pink and ripe for the picking. Erika propped herself on her elbows, running a paw up her flank and over her breast.

"Well?" She whispered expectantly.

"Hot damn..." Craig murmured. Primal lust came over as his claws began to rip off his shirt, then his restricting jeans. Erika murred as she drunk in the sight of his muscular chest, glistening with sweat. She leaned over an gripped the waistband of Craig's white brief's purposely ignoring the bulge making a tent in the fabric. With a gasp, Craig fell on top of her, the white dragon's smoky musk wafting into Erika's nose, sending her mind down the path of no return. Their eyes met once more and they both smiled.

Sensing an opportunity, Craig turned his attention to Erika's full breasts. His tongue flitted out of his hot maw, the heat of his breath causing the wolf to squirm pleasurably. He gave the same treatment to each of her quivering nipples. The tongue flicked down, the rough tip grazing and covering the nipple with a coat of saliva. With each one, Craig swirled his tongue, moistening the fur around soft fur. Then, he gently kissed each one, drawing sharp gasps of pleasure from Erika.

"Oh, God!"

"How am I doing so far?" Craig teased, stopping the movements of his tongue to stare up at Erika's flushed face.

"Amazing."

With a small smile, Craig crawled down Erika's body, his tongue dragging down the length of Erika's now-hot body. He reached his prize and began to lick. Erika's fleshy lips began to open, massaged and pleasured. The sweet taste of Erika's slit filled Craig's maw, the musky and hot sensation stirring deep and rumbling growls in his throat. Erika's breathing was shallow, coming in quick puffs of air. In between inhaling, she would gasp; sensual, feminine, whines of pleasure filling the small room. She was completely at the mercy of Craig's wishes. The dragon felt a paw at the back of his head, grabbing on to one of his horns and forcing him into the soft patch of Erika's crotch. His nose was pressed against her vulva, filling his nostrils with her sweet perfume. His tongue began to go deeper; penetrating her lips and into Erika. Her juices cascaded onto Craig's tongue and he closed his eyes, savoring the exotic taste.

His scaly hands began to run down her body, grazing her breasts, running down her waist. With his elbows, he forced her knees upward, spreading her hole even wider for Craig and his expert tongue to exploit. Erika's moans became louder, in tune with each flick of Craig's muscle. The dragon's hands found their way down her slim legs to her feet. He took each in a hand and felt the lovely footpads. They were soft and luxurious, he began to knead them slowly, pleasuring every inch of Erika's body as he could. Her pads were flawless, smooth and velvety. He began to thrust with muscle, driving his tongue as deep into the clitoris as he could, lubricated by Erika's sweet juices and his rough tongue rubbing against her soft flesh.

"Oh, Craig..." Erika groaned, her tongue began to flop out of her maw as she began to pant, a canine close to orgasm.

That's it, Craig thought, Give me all you got.

A few seconds late, Erika let loose a shriek and she came, her juices spraying full-force into Craig's tongue and thirsty maw. She came a bit harder than the dragon had expected, as her fluids sprayed all over his snout, staining his white scales. Erika's paw fell limp from the back of Craig's crested head and lovingly stroked the dragon's cheek. Craig looked up, a naughty grin on his wet snout. His eyes met Erika's; the wolf beaming down at him.

"God, I haven't felt like that in so long... That was amazing." She panted, her chest heaving with the feral exertion.

Craig lifted his brawny frame off Erika's body and sat up against the headboard. Erika sat up next to him, her paw lazily tracing patterns on his gleaming scales. She leaned her head against on Craig's shoulder, his arm draped around her body. Their eyes met again, and something clicked in Craig's memory: he saw a wolf, not Erika, but with the same eyes and quirky smile. He was cut from his mild delusion when the smiling lips met his once more. Craig and Erika both moaned in unison, sharing the musky taste of Erika's vagina.

As they kissed, Erika began to press against Craig's arm. Her soft, supple breasts rubbed against his bicep while her hand went lower; her fingers soon rubbing Craig's stomach.

"Mmmm." Craig purred, his strong voice sent vibrations down his core.

"Wow, for an old man, you sure love belly rubs." Erika teased, her sultry smile once again on her face. She giggled when Craig brought his scarred muzzle to hers and licked it enticingly.

"Well, what can I say," The dragon rumbled, "I'm an animal."

He was cut off when an animalistic growl escaped his lips. Erika's hand sneaked down, reaching the pre-soaked fabric and gripping the draconic muscle underneath.

"...Then you're lucky I know what to do with animals." She huskily whispered.

The wolf crawled out from Craig's embrace and kneeled at his feet. Without a word, she gripped the waist-band of Craig's in both hands. Even through the cloth, Craig's member shone through, a thick pulsing muscle. The wolf's eyes twinkled with lust as she reverently spread the dragon's legs, giving her full access to Craig's cock and balls. Erika leaned forward and placed a paw around the draconic shaft, feeling the veins and feel. She started slowly, placing just her lips around the spaded tip.

"Oh..." Craig groaned softly.

Erika gently stroked the shaft, from base to tip, to try and coax more of Craig's salty pre into her maw. Every so often, she would lick her lips, her tongue lapping up any of the fluid that her lips missed. She reached a paw down to Craig's impressive sack, his bulbs hanging low like tantalizing fruit. The wolf tenderly cupped the organ in her hand, feeling the leathery smoothness, sniffing in the sweat and musty odor of Craig's man hood. As Craig began to pant, his breaths labored, Erika changed positions. She was now on her hands and knees, her hungry hole just positioned over Craig's stiff penis; her mammaries just in front of Craig's dry lips.

"Are you sure? I might be a little big." Craig warned, his eyes lusty but concerned.

Erika chuckled, her ringing laugh hoarse and husky.

"Don't worry handsome, I want this. We both want this."

"Yeah. We do." Craig quietly replied, before sealing his lips once more with Erika's.

The tip of Craig's member was now just grazing her slit, as Erika lowered her body, the deeper he went inside her; aided by gravity. Erika began to moan, her soft cries loud in the quiet room, silent except for the wet sounds of their love-making. Craig was in heaven, Erika's hole was tight, her warm and wet walls pressing against his aching member, lubing it with his pre and her juices.

A roll over, and Craig was on top, his hot breath washing over Erika's face, maw open in pleasure. He was now balls-deep, the tip of his cock just grazing her sweet spot. For a moment they rested, enjoying the ecstasy of being so connected to each other.

"Okay, maybe you are a bit big." Erika grunted.

"Am I hurting you?" Craig asked, worried for her.

She smiled, the coy smirk back to her lips.

"I didn't say I wasn't enjoying it. Now shut up and make me a woman, big boy..."

She murred softly when Craig licked the nape of her neck.

"Yes ma'am." He whispered.

He began to pump, abandoning any semblance of foreplay. His hips were like pistons, relentlessly punishing Erika's pink lips, driving deeper and deeper into her. Of her own accord, she spread her legs wider. The room was filled with the combined slaps as Craig thrusted, and Erika's high, long moans. Her groans were abruptly stopped when Craig muffled her maw with a savage kiss, pinning her arms to the bed with his strong hands. The wet squelches as Craig withdrew his dripping cock only to ram back in was deafening in their ears.

Despite the pleasure, Craig realised with dismay that he was about to come, his balls tightening and his breath became ragged. He broke off the kiss and looked into Erika's beautiful eyes. They met once more and without a word, they knew. He pulled out, reluctantly. His disappointment was short-lived however, as Erika slid down and took his length in her hungry maw. Her licks were no longer ladylike nor dainty. They were long, lusty licks, her soft tongue devouring him and the back of her throat massaging his tip. The roof of her mouth was rough, the texture pleasuring Craig each time her head bobbed down. Deep, rumbling moans escaper Craig's maw despite himself. The pleasure, the ecstasy of being touched, of having someone truly special working on him was sheer bliss. With his mind clouded, he reached down a hand and forced Erika's head even deeper, causing a small gag from the wolf. She quickly recovered though, managing to take all nine inches of dragon meat into her maw.

Eventually, the stimulation was too much. With a roar, Craig came, oodles of his hot, sticky seed into Erika's waiting mouth. Torrents cascaded into her maw, spilling on her tongue and warming the back of her throat as it trickled down to her stomach. Even after the first spurt, more came; completely filling her maw, and suffusing her entire snout with the white cum. She didn't seem to mind though, her eyes still locked with Craig as she sultrily licked her muzzle clean. She slowly crawled back up, being eagerly embraced by her new dragon lover. As they lay on top of each other, Craig looked deeper into Erika's eyes. In the brown pools of emotion, he found love, joy, and content. It was a mirror into his own heart. But he found something else in her portal-like pupils, a ghost living on in her head. Someone he used to know.

"Craig."

The dragon's ears perked. He smiled at the wolf lying on top of him, her breasts pressing against his still sweating chest.

"Yeah?"

"That was... Incredible, the best."

Craig blushed.

"Thanks, sorry if I was too... Well, quick."

The wolf's hair fell in front of her face, the golden strands forming a curtain in front of her muzzle. Between the gaps in her veil of hair, Craig could see her eyes and the mischeivious twinkle that seemed to permanently live in her irises. Erika brushed the strands away from her face and tenderly traced circles on the dragon's muscular chest. She giggled.

"Don't worry, we'll have plenty of time later."

"Really?" Craig asked, his estatic tone unmasked. "I mean, I didn't really think this was going to go farther than just one night... I mean, I'm not talking about sex, I just really want you to stay-"

Craig was cut off when Erika eagerly locked lips with him. A gentle, affectionate peck.

"Well, normally, I'm not the kind of girl to go this far on a first date, but I feel like I've known you for years. It's been a long time since I truely cared about someone... I hope you feel the same way too."

When Erika saw Craig nod, his scaly cheeks tinged with red, she smiled. "I think I'll stay for a while, with you."

Glee washed over the dragon's body, her words tugging at his long stoned heart. They kissed once more, lust abandoned in favor of new-found love. Their mouths and breaths became one, each beat of their hearts resonating as one. They were strangers, but they were now joined together by a strong bond. They were new to each other, but at the same time familiar, brought together by a ghost.

"I'd like that..." He quietly replied. They both grinned at each other, warmth and comfort found in their new lover's arms.

"I also wanted to thank you, I never told anyone about me and Hunter, feels like a weight off my shoulders."

"And I never told anyone about that last mission." Craig then looked searchingly at the wolf. The bridge in his mind, it solidified; memories, a face, they returned to Craig and lived on in the woman gazing back at him. They were silent. The wolf stiffened. She tilted her head slightly, an enigmatic expression etched on to her demeanor. 

"Umm." Craig quickly said, trying once again to break the silence, "If we're going to try something like this, I feel kinda guilty for not knowing your last name..." Craig said into her perked-up ear.

Erika stared at Craig beseechingly, her eyes expectant. She gently placed a paw on Craig's scarred cheek.

"I think you already know."

Craig nodded, his mind clear. The voices were all gone now, imprisoned in the darkest corner of his mind.

"I do. I'm glad I finally got to meet you, Erika Bennings. No regrets."

Erika smiled, her face almost angelic, a goddess. She blinked once, and her tears unlocked. The picture of joy, Erika whispered three words before she nuzzled herself into Craig's warm body, feeling the smoothness of his scales against her fur.

"No regrets, Craig."

................................

Hey there, thank you so much for reading. This is actually my first M/F story, so I'd love some feedback from you amazing people ^-^. If you already read this before and are reading this now, I'm so sorry for the reupload, but I'm glad for your support, I wouldn't be here writing if I didn't have you guys cheering me on. Not to sound greedy but, a rating and comment would really be appreciated. This story deserves at least some recognition, I'm really proud of it. (:

Thanks,

Anon