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One They Fear

Odahviing gazed out across the ash-swept crags and spindly spires of stone. He'd never seen such a gray land... It was depressing, but it befitted his mood. The sun was barely a glow behind the edge of the thickest clouds, sinking toward the horizon. Worse still, the sky was just as gray, and pouring. Rain filled in the cracks in the ash-choked soil and made black mud of everything in sight. The slight depression in the cliff he crouched against wasn't exactly much in the way of shelter; it didn't keep half his hindquarters dry.

At least it wasn't a dust storm, like the gritty winds he'd had to fight on his way here.

Was it already two days ago? He'd never heard the dovahkiin's call so frantic... or so distant. It had been over an hour's flight as hard as Odahviing dared push himself, worry mounting with each beat of his wings. Fortunately, when he arrived, they hadn't killed the dovahkiin yet - a whole camp of dunmer had overpowered him with sheer numbers, apparently very eager to have their hands on a live argonian. Odahviing knew the dovahkiin's scent well enough to single out exactly which tent to spare from the inferno he unleashed.

But that had been simple. Freeing the dovahkiin was the hard part. After tearing away the tent, it was a delicate process of using his dewclaws and teeth to break the smaller reptile's bonds. Odahviing took great care - he had no desire to add to the scars already marring the argonian's scales.

"And I thought the Nords in Windhelm hated argonians," was the first thing the dovahkiin muttered once he got the gag out of his teeth. Followed quickly by, a disgruntled, "My gear was in one of those tents you burned down, by the way; thanks for that."

His captors not even having spared him the dignity of his undergarments, all he had to his name was what little survived the flames. The black plates of his armor were unscathed, having been tested by plenty of dragons' fire in the past. Along with that, he also salvaged his sword, forged of the same dark metal. The leather had been roasted off its two-handed hilt, and had crumbled at the first touch, but the curved blade was still usable. Its scabbard had not fared so well, and the dovahkiin abandoned it, preferring to simply carry his weapon than bother with the brittle metal-bound tatters. After all, he had nothing else to carry.

Since picking their way through the ashes of the dunmer camp, they had been two miserable days in this abysmal land. The local wildlife was edible, though most was more violent than it was tasteful. Fortunately the dovahkiin was perfectly capable of defending himself from such creatures, so long as he had his weapon and armor. That hadn't stopped Odahviing from refusing to leave him, to return to the Throat of the World.

"Bo los lingrah, dovahkiin." The flight is long, dragonborn. "It is too great a distance to come swiftly should you have need of me. Krosis," apologies, "These vul faliil, these dark elves, they have proven their intent. I shall not let them have you. I travel with you."

"Then fly me," the argonian insisted. "Help me track this cowardly dragon who's fled all this way from Skyrim."

"Niid." No. "We have spoken of this before. I will serve you in your time of need, dovahkiin. I have no desire to hasten the deaths of my brethren."

The argonian held a dour scowl for him as of then. And despite the dragon following him, the dovahkiin insisted he keep his distance and fended for himself. At least, up until it started raining. With no shelter for a league in any direction, his scowl only deepened when Odahviing offered his wing.

But he had relented soon enough. Now he sat with his blade across his knees, surrounded by the pattering of rain on wing membrane. The argonian's scales were nearly as dark as the metal of his armor, though of a browner hue and without the sheen. Red flecked his blunt muzzle, the heavy scaled ridges over his slitted eyes, and his forehead. A pair of thick horns curved back from his head, and narrower spines stood between them in two rows from forehead to nape. The tip of his reptilian tail curled around his boot, twitching now and again. Odahviing held his tongue, but such closeness with the dovahkiin... He couldn't decide if it was more uncomfortable, or oddly reassuring.

After all, he was even now sheltering the mortal with a sworn vendetta against his race. He was the only dragon the dovahkiin had met and not felled.

It hadn't stopped with Alduin. One after another this mortal had hunted down every dragon he heard of. Even now he pursued one who fled into... what had he called this land? Morrowind? Odahviing could hardly deny the part he had played a part in the downfall of many dov. He may refuse to lend his wings to the dovahkiin, but nor could he have allowed others of his kind to harm the argonian he was sworn to.

He'd known a few of them. Not very well, but it still stung him. He had every right to hate this mortal, and yet... it was staggering that a mortal could gain such strength and act with such purpose. Odahviing was reminded of it every time he witnessed the the dovahkiin speak Dragonrend, painfully remembering when he himself was touched by that Thu'um. The dovahkiin claimed his crusade against the dov was right, and his will was as mighty as his Voice.

In a strange way, Odahviing admired him, and for more than merely for his strength.

However, a question lingered in his mind. The kind of question he rarely had the opportunity to ask. The last time he'd spent so long this close to the dovahkiin was when Odahviing had flown him to Skuldafn. It would have been too brazen to broach such a subject immediately after a fight, which was the setting for most words they exchanged.

It had seemed there would never be an appropriate time. For once, he felt as though he could actually ask, but that didn't make it easy. Searching for words, he stirred a bit, curling his neck to watch the argonian. Rainwater ran down his jaws as he inclined his head, trickling off his chin. "Dovahkiin..."

The argonian's eyes lifted, his pupils narrowing slightly, his lowered eye ridges clearly expressing a silent, irate 'What?'

"Ol tiid rovaan," As time wanders, "Years from now... should you and your Blades slay the last of the dov, save myself... what then, hmm?"

"There will always be evil." The argonian didn't miss a beat. "I was given my power for a reason, and until I can wield it no longer... I will fight what I can. Necromancy... daedra... slavers... tyrants..."

A rumbling issued from the dragon. "Hmm. And what of myself? Am I to be the last dovah? Your tool? Trophy? Or shall you lift your blade and... be rid of the dov for all eternity?" His eyes slid shut, and he braced himself... not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I fought a damnable war to convince a Jarl to help me to trap a dragon - I went through all that to get you," the dovahkiin snapped.

"Not precisely your intentions at the time, if I recall," Odahviing retorted, a rumble of dry amusement in his throat. "And yet you avoid my question."

The argonian reached over his shoulder for a pack that was not there. "Bloody dunmer... can't get mead out here... Or even decent brandy for less than a fortune. Elves can't make a halfway decent liquor..."

Odahviing turned his gaze back upon the grimy landscape, growling under his breath. More and more frequently, the argonian had been turning to his cups. Odahviing knew little of alcohol, only that it dulled the dovahkiin's senses, made him slur, and made him especially irate after he'd slept it off. "Why must you indulge in such vile substances? It deadens your thinking."

"That is why."

The dragon met the argonian's eyes, catching a glimpse of what lay behind the dovahkiin's eternal scowl - pain. He glanced quickly away from the dragon. "No, Oblivion take me. I couldn't kill you. I owe you my life many times over."

"Do not forget you once spared my life."

"I needed you. I couldn't have reached Skuldafn without you."

"Knowing you, Dovahkiin, you would have Shouted down the very mountain itself until Skuldafn was within your grasp, or rent the land in two to reach Sovngard."

The argonian huffed. "Tall tales."

Odahviing hummed in agreement. He paused, another question on his tongue, but unsure if he should continue to press the dovahkiin. He'd answered the last... It could do no harm Odahviing was unwilling to risk. "Why would you... filok vahrukt?" Escape memory? "What thoughts plague you, that you would deaden your mind for respite?"

He turned his eyes back to the dovahkiin, but the argonian's head was lowered. His fingers tightened around his sword hilt. The silence stretched on. Odahviing wondered again whether it was truly wise to keep questioning.

"His eyes," the argonian hissed. "He knew why I'd come... Didn't even try to talk me down, not one plea for mercy. Like... he knew I wouldn't listen. Like he... always knew I would come for him."

The dragon he was chasing into Morrowind? No... he hadn't caught that one yet. It took Odahviing a moment to puzzle it out. "Paarthurnax?"

"Yes."

Odahviing blinked. Guilt? "And did he fight you?"

"Yes. That only made it... easier to kill him. I..." He shook his head, hissing. "I don't know why. After he helped me."

"He acted just as the others, fought you just as the rest of the dov whom you sought to slay before and after. And he knew better than most why you came."

"I know."

The dragon regarded the argonian under his wing. Perhaps the dovahkiin's drive was not as... wholehearted as expected. Had he carried the burden of regret since taking Paarthurnax's life?

"I am surprised he fought you, given his... Way of the Voice." Odahviing remarked. Though, he had never paid much heed to the old one's philosophies, so he was in no position to say.

"Would you stop reminding me my tent is a dragon?"

Odahviing was used to the argonian's remarks, worded as though a dovah's very nature was an insult. But this time, the dragon growled. He saw the words for what they were, now. The dovahkiin had just revealed the guilt he felt, even if he had not said it, and now he hid behind quick words in denial. "So you would not kill me, but you would condemn what I am?"

The shadows seemed to deepen on the argonian's features. "Dominance is in a dragon's nature. Paarthurnax said it himself. And you've no right-"

Odahviing cut him off. "Zu'u vomed zeymahi dovahhe?" Am I unlike my brother dragons? "Is it my submission? My aide? Was Paarthurnax less worthy, dovahkiin?"

The argonian set his jaw, hissing through clenched teeth. "I defended people from a threat."

"And Paarthurnax?" Odahviing countered. "You dare wield his words, knowing what you've done?"

"He was Alduin's right hand. He committed atrocities..."

"Ul void, Alduin relaani lost vobeyn." Eternity ago, Alduin's dominion was without reproach. "He was the firstborn of Akatosh, foremost of the dov. We were all at his service. Paarthurnax merely excelled. It was his silrotti, his name and birthright."

The argonian held his tongue, flexing his fingers around his sword hilt.

Odahviing quivered; it was as though his blood boiled. His head sank, bearing a glower such as he'd not worn since he'd been trapped in the Dragonsreach stockade. Oddly, the constant pelting of rain on his scales was... quieting. Still, here was the chance he never dared to hope for. He could not hold back his distaste for the dovahkiin's vendetta. "Dominance is in your nature, dovahkiin, as it is that of the dov. You have defended many from those dovah who strike against the joorre, mortalkind. As vahlok, as a guardian, you were to be envied. But to hunt those who trouble your kind no more... Hin lost fin rah miraadi." Yours was the gods' path. "You were doom-driven to overthrow Alduin, but you have done this. You alone drive your fate now."

It felt... freeing to finally speak this way. Several moments slipped by, Odahviing lost to the feel of rain running off his scales before he realized he'd not gotten a response. He glanced under his wing at the argonian slouched there. That scowl had twisted into such a grimace, one would think he'd been stabbed. Seeing him like this left a bittersweet taste on the dragon's tongue.

He recalled a moment from long ago; Alduin, shortly after the dovahkiin had defeated him atop the Throat of the World. He had overheard whispers questioning his authority, the strength of his Thu'um. His blood red eyes were pure rage. Odahviing almost wished he could have seen Alduin's expression when the dovahkiin hunted him to Sovngard.

He laughed suddenly, the pieces falling into place, giving him a vision of incredible irony. "As Alduin preyed upon the sillesjoor, the souls of mortals in Sovngard, to grow in strength... So you now prey upon the souls of the dov to grow in strength... Orin brit ro." A beautiful balance.

Given the choice, he would not choose to return to Alduin's reign. Yet, how much longer could he stand to serve in the scourge against his own kind? Odahviing had offered himself to the dovahkiin because of the might of his Thu'um - he did not want to find himself enemy to he who vanquished Alduin. As he'd grown to admire the mortal, the dragon hoped he would be considered more than a mere weapon.

If the dovahkiin would not let this madness end... sooner or later, Odahviing would have to withdraw his support. He glanced at the grave argonian beneath his wing. It would not be easy; he'd never gone back on his word before, and the argonian... despite his blindness... was Odahviing's only companion.

It might have been easier if the argonian held only antagonism for him, but Odahviing wasn't entirely convinced that was the case. Perhaps he was overly hopeful, though. His eyes swept the muddy lands. "Are my services to you is the only reason you permit me to live, dovahkiin? Is debt all that would stay your blade? If, truly, it is no more than this, I should fly far and hope you never follow."

A quiet crunch drew his attention back to the present, the argonian stabbing his blade into the damp earth. He rose, hauling himself up with the support of his weapon. His face turned away from the dragon's, he ducked out from beneath the sheltering wing. Rain plinked on his armor. Sword barely held above the ground, he trudged away, heavy boots sinking into the muck.

Odahviing opened his mouth, but thought better of it. The dovahkiin no longer desired his company, and even the rain and mud was preferable. He could not hide; he could only run. If he couldn't drown himself in mead, he could at least escape the berating dragon. Sparing not even a glance behind, he hissed his parting words: "What do you expect?"

Expect? Odahviing hoped to be considered a comrade. But his hopes and expectation were leagues apart.

Sighing, the dragon admitted there was little he could do if the dovahkiin refused to see reason. His words were wasted. Watching the argonian's figure recede into the sheets of rain, he wondered if he would ever again hear his name upon that mortal's Thu'um.

Odahviing supposed he would make his way back to Skyrim. Or wherever he pleased, for that matter. Though, perhaps the dovahkiin would call upon him again.

Perhaps Odahviing would answer, if he did.

He did not relish the idea of navigating this bleak land through such horrid weather. Whether he'd fallen out of favor with the dovahkiin or not, he may as well sleep through the night. Sullenly shifting to lay against the rocky spire, he his head upon a more or less flat and not too muddy boulder.

All trace of sunset was blotted out as the rainclouds marched west and obscured the sun. The shadows of rocky spires were swallowed up as darkness crept over the forbidding land. Little was intimidating to a dovah, but it certainly did nothing for Odahviing's mood. His eyes shut, but his thoughts raced. Perhaps he could have said more to convince the dovahkiin? Or perhaps he should not have said so much. Again and again he reexamined every word he'd said, until he teetered on the brink of slumber.

Tiid nis bo daal; time cannot flow backward. With that thought, he cut the last thread holding him to wakefulness. Wind and rain battered the dragon to no avail. Thunder cracked and rolled, but could not stir him. The ageless creature weathered the elements as stoically as the stone he slept beside.

As the wind gusted, a scent almost woke him. So rain-dampened, so distant, so unlikely... he disregarded it and sank back into sleep.

A steady tromping and the light din of rain on metal drew near, and finally the dragon cracked an eye to blink at the slouching figure by his wing. Even in gloomy night, he knew that armor, that sword, that tail. It was him. Odahviing, feeling the dovahkiin's touch at his wing, lifted it with an air of resignation.

The argonian ducked beneath the shelter of the dragon's, breathing a long sigh. "So... what do you expect?"

Had it plagued the argonian? Unexpected. His return hadn't changed anything, though. Hope as he might to be considered more than a tool, the dragon knew he was the only shelter nearby. "Wah koraav tiraazi." To see my sorrow. "I expect to be disappointed."

Their eyes met for the merest of moments. The argonian's dropped quickly. "You really think I won't be able to let this go?"

Let go? The dragon blinked. "Krosis." Apologies. "What are you speaking of?"

"Hunting... and hating your kind," the dovahkiin said slowly.

Odahviing had misunderstood the question. His thoughts had been focused on himself, whether he was valued only for his service. But the argonian spoke more broadly. The dragon drew a breath, held it as though to speak, but words were lost to him for a moment. At length he exhaled and drew another breath to try again. "I... would not be offering you the shelter of my wing if I thought you so heartless. Nor, I think, would you have returned to it."

The dovahkiin stonily lifted his gaze once more to hold the dragon's. "You didn't expect me to come back, did you?"

"Niid... No. Certainly not so quickly. But I am not disappointed to be proven wrong." Odahviing cocked his head. "Perhaps you should continue to exceed my expectations, dovahkiin."

The argonian's shoulders sank. "Don't get your hopes up," he spat sullenly, glancing out at the rain. He dropped his sword, spattering his greaves and the dragon's wing with black grime. His gauntlets followed a few moments apart, and his bare hands reached up behind his neck. One by one, he began to loosen the straps of his cuirass.

Odahviing had watched this process the night before, though from a distance; the argonian had refused to rest so close to him. It amused the dragon: the dovahkiin found his scales inadequate to protect him during the day, and wore metal forged to fit his body in remarkably similar ways to a dovah's scales. Yet he removed this protection before he slept, when he was most vulnerable.

Armor was surprisingly fascinating to Odahviing. The intricacy and design of such quality armor was a testament to mortalkind's awareness of their own frailty, and the time and effort they would expend to prolong it.

"You could have left me to those elves," the argonian said as he slid his cauldrons off his shoulders. He spoke so softly, so flatly, the dragon strained to hear, picking his head up and leaning closer. "Or a dozen times before. Times you could have left me to die. Why didn't you?"

That thought had crossed Odahviing's mind once. "Had I abandoned you, and you somehow survived - as fortune so often seems to favor you against all odds - your vengeance would surely find me, no? And what would that speak of the dov, hmm? Would I not be the very beast you perceive as evil?"

Tugging off his breastplate, the dovahkiin shed armor from his upper body. "So you'd let your race be sacrificed? For an ideal?"

The dragon huffed. "I had hoped you would relinquish this quest once you taught the dov to fear you and let the joorre be. My kind are stubborn. You defeated Alduin; your might is unquestionable, and yet few acknowledge you with respect proper to your Thu'um. I have been... given a different perspective.

The argonian paused, his tail halfway out of his greaves. "What?"

"Dragonrend, dovahkiin." The dragon gave a morose chuckle. "You Shouted me down when you first called me."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Vahzen?" Truly? "You truly know so little of your own weapon?"

"I know it forces you to experience mortality," he defended. "And it makes you too weak to fly."

Odahviing laughed. "Experience mortality - and just what do you think that means? And what has this Thu'um to do with flight? With strength? No..." His gaze trailed into the distance. "It is fear that weakens us."

With a huff, the argonian kicked off his boots, jerked his tail free of his greaves, and stepped out of the last of his armor. "Fear of me? You have to experience mortality to understand you're about to die?"

"The nature of the dov is immortal. I did not... truly grasp death until I tasted your Thu'um, but... you are not the source of fear," Odahviing chuckled. "No, you are but its messenger. I glimpsed the world, the passing of the ages, as mortals do... Fin brii vol." The beautiful horror. "It was... difficult to endure for even a short time." His eyes returned to the dovahkiin, tracing his toned frame and his bared scales. "To live under such a shadow and excel as you have... I would find it difficult to believe, had I not seen for myself."

The argonian rubbed down the scales of his arm, his eyes drifting to some indistinct point on the rainswept land. "You'd think more of my enemies would figure that out before I end them. Aside from dragons, I mean. I suppose we mortals are prone to... overlook death."

Odahviing inclined his head. "That is... strange, to me. Perhaps I still do not understand your kind in full."

"Nor do we." With a sigh, the dovahkiin turned and sat in the muck, laying his back against the dragon's chest. Odahviing froze, not daring to breathe for a moment, slightly stunned by the contact. Slowly, he drew a breath. If the argonian was bothered by the rise and fall of the thick scales he leaned against, he did not give it voice.

Just as the dragon settled enough to lay his head back upon the boulder, the argonian's muttering reached his ears.

"We're prone to overlook a lot of things we'd rather not believe."

So quiet were these words, Odahviing wasn't sure he'd been intended to hear them. So he simply shut his eyes, absently shifting his wing closer to the argonian against him.

"What was it you thought I was asking? You said... you expect to be disappointed?"

"That... I am no longer so sure what to expect."

"What was it?" The argonian repeated.

Odahviing paused, wondering if it was truly wise to say - wondering whether he would want to hear the response. "Whether I mean more to the dovahkiin than his blade, or any other tool."

The dragon's chest rose and fell again before the argonian asked, "Why should it matter to you?"

Humming as he considered, Odahviing began cautiously. "To a dov, an eternal creature... there will always be another day, until the end of time. Many things we would desire can be postponed... and lethargy is an easy trap. Dragonrend... opened my eyes to more than death. I have known regret for deferring so much I desired." He wondered that he was not being interrupted with demands to cut to the chase. "Having allied myself with you, dovahkiin... My fellow dovah do not abide my presence long. I have found myself..." The dragon sought a word.

"Lonely?" The argonian offered.

"In a sense," Odahviing admitted. "I have lived long years in solitude in the past. Yet I have known regret for not seeking greater... kinship." He spoke the truth, and was well aware of how easily the dovahkiin could spite him at this point. Sighing slowly, he braced himself for the response.

After several moments, he released a pent breath. Perhaps he would not receive an answer at all.

But he did.

"I have won many battles I would not have survived without my sword, or my armor... but I cannot say I owe my life to metal. It has no will. But the battles I would not have survived without you... I..." The argonian shook his head, poised to speak but seemingly unable to finish. His teeth clicked shut.

Scales scraping wet rock, the dragon shifted his head to better watch the dovahkiin. His companion. Yes, Odahviing would allow himself to think that way now. Despite the rain, the mud, and the harsh land, he could not recall being so at peace. He felt certain the dovahkiin would give up his war on dragonkind. Sooner or later.

The argonian shifted fitfully against the dragon's chest. Odahviing chuckled lightly; the dovahkiin was uneasy. "Miri los fah dovahkiin." My allegiance is for the dragonborn. "You owe me nothing."

"No, I..." The argonian stopped himself. At last he relaxed, breathing, "Thank you."

A thought struck the dragon. "I am curious... You were not always called 'dovahkiin', hmm? You have another name? I wonder if you might prefer I use it."

The argonian glanced at him, a bit surprised. "I... don't care what you call me. But my name is Julan-Eius."

"Julan." Odahviing hummed with contentment.

"Well," the argonian sighed, laying down on the relatively dry earth with his back against the dragon's chest. "I should like to get some rest."

"Julan... Drem praan." Peaceful rest.

Odahviing drew his wing in close over the dovahkiin, and curled his spaded tail along the edge of his wing; neither wind nor rain would disturb his companion.

The dragon was kept from sleep for some hours as Julan tossed and shifted against him. Odahviing did not mind. He could have ignored the restless argonian, but he chose to keep watch over his companion until he found a comfortable position - or simply grew too weary to move - and drifted to sleep.

In time, the rain receded and the clouds drifted on. Two moons and countless stars shone down upon the sleeping pair, until the heavens began to lighten in the east. Dawn broke, spreading sunlight across the dampened land. Odahviing woke so peacefully, he opted not to open his eyes to a harsh landscape. He preferred to savor the warmth of the dovahkiin against him.

Though, that was not the only warmth he felt.

Cautious not to wake the argonian, the dragon lifted his wing and stared past his companion. There, between Odahviing's haunches, a tapered black shaft emerged from a part in the heavy armor-like scales guarding his nethers. Unbidden, a croon of pleasure welled up in his throat at the sight of his own engorged maleness.

Julan stirred, either the light or the noise having woken him.

Odahviing clenched his teeth. He hoped to preserve his modesty. He could quell his body's excitement soon enough... So long as the argonian didn't look back and notice the erection behind him.

After opening his eyes, the first thing the argonian did was stretch. His extended feet wavered precariously close to the tip of the dragonhood; Odahviing bated his breath until he was sure those reptilian feet would not touch. Just as he exhaled, he gasped lightly at the touch of a thin, scaled appendage. As he met Julan's eyes a moment of understanding dawned on them both: the argonian's tail had found the tip of the dragon's sensitive genital flesh.

"Krosis, Julan. Forgive my slen faad... The flesh heat."

The argonian's head began to turn, his gaze drifting toward what his tail had touched. But he caught himself, slinging his eyes to a distant point on the horizon and tucking his tail away from Odahviing's genitals. "I suppose... it even happens to dragons."

The dovahkiin did not seem offended. Odahviing relaxed slightly, breathing, "So it does."

"I'll... I'll let you deal with it," Julan voiced faintly, clambering out from under the dragon's wing. He all but leapt to his feet and swayed on his first step, dizzy from his haste. "I'll just be..." His eyes darted to and fro over the barren landscape before him. "...behind a rock."

A spaded tail curled into his path before he could take another step, a dewclaw gently hooking around his waist. "Is it not rather presumptuous to think I would, as you say, deal with it?" Odahviing chuckled. "If I may be presumptuous as well, this leads me to believe... you would do no less, in similar circumstances."

Again the argonian caught himself beginning to turn, freezing stock still. "What do you think you're doing?"

The clawed digit of the dragon tugged Julan a step back, and Odahviing's head appeared by his shoulder. "Zu'u boziik... I am being bold. I should think I can read your scent. Of all the joor reyliik, the mortal races, your kind are most similar to the dov." Head inclining, his eye traveled downward to the argonian's loins. There, a hint of red poked from a bulging slit nestled amid the perineal scales. He slid his claw higher to appreciate the sight. "As I thought."

The argonian turned his body away from the dragon's eye. A moment later he remembered what lay behind him in the direction he was turning, and once again he stared at an unspectacular point in the distance. "If this is what you meant by 'companionship', I'll..."

"No," Odahviing chuckled. "Though it is true, one aspect of companionship is the instinct to find a mate. Necessary for mortal beings, hmm? But no, that is not what I meant. However, I am curious..."

"Mara preserve me," Julan muttered sourly.

"Say I were to deal with my slen faad... Would you be dealing with your own, behind your rock?"

The argonian set his jaw, preserving a stoic face as best he could. His body betrayed him; the extra inch of red slipping from his genital vent did not go unnoticed.

"You do not deny it...?" A thrum of amusement grew in Odahviing's throat as he smelled a fresh wave of reptilian arousal and examined the smooth, tapered phallus revealing itself. "Would it not be more pleasurable to... Ney haalvut slen? To touch... together?"

"No," Julan snapped. "Not with you."

The barbed retort banished the lusty haze from Odahviing's mind, and he had to swallow his impudence. They endured several moments of silence. Of course the dovahkiin was disinterested in that. He hunted the dov; he certainly wouldn't care to share pleasure with one. "Krosis," the dragon said in an undertone. Inhaling deeply, he withdrew his claw from around the argonian. "As you will, dovahkiin. And I need not... deal with this. It will subside."

Head bowed slightly, the argonian held his tongue. Odahviing retreated a step, taking stock. Julan would want to travel and, as before, the dragon would follow from a distance. He would have to keep his distance from the next town. The image came to him: Julan finding some mortal wench to sate his own lusts.

The dragon silently reprimanded himself. Whoever the dovahkiin took to his bed - if he even did anything of the sort - Odahviing had no business knowing.

With a start, he noticed the argonian's eyes on his body, and hurriedly lowered a wing to obscure his erection from view. Their eyes met. Julan's expression was unreadable. His mouth opened, but no words came. He seemed torn, as though he wanted to say something he already thought he'd regret.

Odahviing held his gaze steady, bracing himself for rebuke or insult. If he had irrevocably sullied his reputation the dovahkiin, he could at least face it with the remainder of his dignity. Julan apparently too uncomfortable to speak, the dragon suggested, "Perhaps it would be best to forget this morning's diversion, hmm?"

"No, I..." the argonian blurted out, shifting his weight and covering up his groin with a hand.

The dragon thought it an odd gesture. Julan was not hiding anything Odahviing had not already seen. Perhaps whatever he was trying to say made him conscientious of it. Still, he tried not to watch, out of respect for the dovahkiin's modesty. "You what?"

"I think... You're right," he admitted, his tail curling a bit. "It would... feel better to... together..."

He was not hiding himself, Odahviing realized, starting in a daze. Julan was touching himself, wrapping his fingers around his member. The incredulous dragon stammered. "Vahzen? Laani..." Truly? You want... "You desire this?" He lifted his wing; if his erection had flagged, the dovahkiin's words had restored it.

Julan eyed the black dragonhood. He shifted his hand, his new grip revealing more of his member to the dragon. Odahviing fixated on the thick base parting Julan's vent, the nubs adorning the sides of his fully engorged shaft, and the angular glans of that tapered tip. But he didn't catch whatever the argonian managed to mutter.

"Krosis. What did you say?" he asked, tearing his eyes from the dovahkiin's mating tool.

"I just don't know what... how..." Julan sighed helplessly.

"Dreh ni faas." Do not worry. Odahviing lowered the wing previously concealing his haunches, putting his wight on the limb and taking a few crawling steps toward the argonian.

Julan automatically stepped back as the dragon's head loomed over him, but his shoulders hit a wing Odahviing wrapped behind him. He lowered his eyes to the dovahkiin's level, scrutinizing. There was desire for pleasure, the dragon saw now. The restraint that had made the argonian so unreadable was failing. In its place was uncertainty, agitated by instincts honed through so many violent encounters with dovah. He was clearly unused to being face to face with a dragon unarmed, unprotected, and at its mercy.

Odahviing wanted to make this a good experience for him, then. His black tongue slipped out and trawled across Julan's chest scales, his attention lingering on the taste. He wanted to be used to it so he could concentrate on what was important.

The argonian tried to lean away. "What are you..."

"Drem, Julan. Calm yourself," he rumbled. "It is pleasure you desire, and pleasure I shall grant... Ov Odahviing." Trust me. His head sank, and his tongue flicked out, brushing the maleness between the argonian's fingers, drawing a slight gasp from him. As his knees buckled, the dragon supported him with a dewclaw under his arm.

By unspoken consent, Julan sank to the ground, curling his tail to the side and leaning back against Odahviing's wing. Hesitantly, he pulled his hand away from his groin and spread his legs, presenting himself to the dragon.

Having no desire to compound his companion's uncertainty, the dragon laid his tongue against the argonian's collarbone and licked across his neck. Julan lay his head back, the dragon, receiving the wet strokes with a shaky sigh. Odahviing was pleased; he had hoped the neck was as sensitive for the smaller reptile as it was for the dov. It seemed to have the desired effect. He could feel tension slowly draining from the argonian as he lapped over the exposed neck scales, thrumming.

Satisfied, Odahviing moved to the leg, trawling his tongue up Julan's thigh and toward his slit. The argonian shivered at a warm blast of breath from the dragon's nares. Then that tongue reached his shaft, its rougher texture against his smooth flesh. He groaned, pushing his hips up toward the source of that pleasure as a drop of clear fluid dripped from the tip of his length.

Odahviing lapped up the pre, curling his oral muscle around the smaller male's glans and savoring the foretaste. It was a mild relief, in fact; it would have been a shame to come this far and find Julan distasteful. But no, he was going to enjoy the dovahkiin's seed.

He withdrew from the argonian's maleness, however, and laid his tongue against those scaly thighs again. This was a moment to savor. As he dragged long, wet streaks across the inner leg, the toned muscles were gradually eased. Odahviing was gratified to see Julan found this pleasurable; given the heavy scales of a dovah's underbelly, the thighs were one of the most basic targets for foreplay.

But the scales of the argonian's groin were quite fine, so the dragon's licks trailed across it. Julan shivered each time the stroking tongue approached his male slit, breath catching when Odahviing played at the parted lips of his vent and his everted mating tool. The dragon never gave his member more than the lightest brush of his tongue. Every scale of the the argonian's left inner thigh glistened damply by the time the dragon retreated, only to attack the other thigh and repeated the process.

Julan lifted his head. Even with his bliss-drowned features, uncertainty - perhaps confusion, even - were evident in his eyes as he watched the dragon giving pleasure to his body. Their gazes locked for a long moment. Whether the smaller reptile found comfort in Odahviing's expression or simply became embarrassed, he shut his eyes and turned away. Chest rising sharply, he succumbed to a moan as the dragon's tongue dragged up his shaft, arduously slow. Left panting, jaw hung slack, Julan leaked another bead of pre for the dragon's palate.

Breathing against the argonian's abdomen, Odahviing could hardly recall a time his erection had ached so much. Yet his own desire for pleasure was overruled. He wanted... No, he needed Julan to enjoy this. His attentive tongue lavished every feature of the argonian's member, twisting over each nub and vein. It was delicate work, given the dragon's size, but every taste of pre Julan offered him was a reward. The argonian squirmed about, gasping lightly as the dragon found his most sensitive spots. All the while, Odahviing's tail swung like a leisurely, spade-tipped pendulum.

Momentarily leaving the moist and needy maleness, Odahviing brought his tongue to the bottom of the argonian's genital vent. Odahviing enjoyed the texture of the argonian's scales, so much finer than his own; such a pliable slit was surely quite pleasurable. Swirling his tongue where the lips parted around his maleness, he wondered if it would stretch enough to...

Julan gasped, eyes shooting open, mildly shocked to see Odahviing's slickly glistening black appendage disappearing past the base of his erection. The dragon's head tipped forward, laying his tongue against the spear of male flesh to slide along its length as his tongue sank into the tight folds the argonian everted from. Julan's stunned silence broke down into a moan. Odahviing was pleased; the confines of his companion's vent were tight, wet, and so very smooth. He could taste the musk of arousal. Julan gave up even trying to keep quiet, panting and shuddering as he felt the buried tip of that tongue flicking and lapping gently at the hidden roots of his genitals.

Odahviing found dribbles of pre rubbed onto his tongue, and relished them as he gently pumped in and out of that slit and along the stiff length. Pressing as deep as he dared, the dragon drew his tongue up along one scaled lip against the base of the argonian's member. Julan couldn't quite hold back a groan as the tip of the wet muscle slid to the top of his parted male slit. He panted for breath, then felt the tongue snaked back down. The dragon gave him little respite, licking up and down inside the other lip of his vent, soon having Julan groaning again. Expelling a heavy, lustful breath, Odahviing withdrew from the argonian's slit vent to briskly tongue over those glans a few times, cleaning them of their slick fluids.

The dragon felt a hand on his snout, gingerly stroking him. He gave an approving thrum at Julan's encouragement. Emboldened, the argonian grasped and drew that maw closer in between his legs. Breathing heavily of his companion's must, Odahviing prodded gently at the lips of his male slit once more. But Julan seemed to want something else, tugging until his tip slipped into the dragon's mouth.

Odahviing was quick to wrap his tongue around that sensitive length, shielding it from his teeth and the rough scales of his lips. The argonian's hips bucked, thrusting into that warm, wet embrace. Julan lifted his eyes, forcing himself to watch, lust finally burning through his hesitation. This was what he wanted: to drive between the dragon's jaws, to feel the heat of his maw and the press of his tongue. The dov had poor mouths for this, with lips not built to seal and upper jaws hooked and almost beak-like. But Julan didn't seem to care. Odahviing let his tongue do the work his mouth could not, dragging partway off the argonian's shaft and letting him pump back in. When he did not, Odahviing pushed down on him, the curved tip of his snout parting the lips of Julan's vent. The pleasure reducing him to gasps and moans, soon both argonian's hands gripped at his muzzle.

As much as Odahviing wanted to draw out the experience, when their eyes met, he knew Julan was close to release and desperately needed it. He cocked his head, parting his jaws to put on a bit of a show, rolling his tongue this way and that along the throbbing tool and slipping under the lips of the argonian's vent. Finally, he twirled his tongue around and cinched it on Julan's maleness. The argonian watched hungrily, his breaths heavy as he thrust into that wet, enfolding muscle. His hands left the dragon's snout, claws digging into the gray earth to either side of him for support as he worked his hips. And each time he pushed, the tip of Odahviing's tongue curled and flicked inside his slit. Julan threw his head back, his body growing rigid, his pumping quick, jerky, and erratic.

With little more warning than a ragged gasp, Julan's sticky white essence erupted from his tip, slathered against Odahviing's tongue with desperate thrusts. The dragon murred deeply at the thick, rich taste of argonian semen, his coiled tongue tightening and milking. Spurting ropes of his fluid, Julan moaned through his climax. His back arched and all his claws dug at the ground beneath him as he delivered up his seed to the dragon's maw. His final spurts lessened in intensity, but the argonian held that pose, frozen in ecstasy for a moment more, before his entire body went limp with a massive sigh. The wing behind him lowered his shoulders gently to the earth and slipped away.

Odahviing's tongue retreated into his mouth, smearing Julan's essence along the roof of his mouth and rubbing it with the full range of his tastebuds. Taking just a moment to enjoy Julan's flavor, he was soon back to lapping over the slack argonian's groin and somewhat softened member. His thrumming nearly drowned out Julan's pants for breath and small noises of pleasure.

"Did you enjoy the... sotdaar nol smoliin?" Whiteness from passion. "I do not know your words for this."

"Yes," the argonian breathed in a daze. "Yes, I... I did." He groaned again as Odahviiing tongued across his oversensitive glans yet again. He lifted his head to regard the dragon. "But I thought you... wanted to deal with your... your..." He gave up, unable to finish; he still found difficulty speaking of it.

"Oh, I do," Odahviing intoned with a deep and lustful growl. "I could hardly help myself, now. If now you wish to go hide behind a rock, dovahkiin... You would likely still hear me."

Julan shook his head slowly. His hand slipped under the dragon's chin, beckoning with the other hand. The dragon stepped closer, bending his neck to look down at the argonian. Still Julan beckoned. Mindful of his talons, Odahviing crawled on his feet and wings, freely exposing his underbelly and his inner thighs, until Julan was face to face with his jet black dragonhood.

It was at least as long as the smaller reptile's entire tail. Its swollen, almost knot-like base gave way to heavy ridges as it gradually narrowed. Thick beads of pre issued steadily from the throbbing tip, drizzling halfway down the shaft before dripping to the ground. Julan reached out to cup its surprisingly soft point. He could barely wrap his fingers around much more than that. Thumbing over the cock slit drew a small, sharp gasp from the dragon above him, and instantly wet his hand with slick fluid.

Odahviing lowered his head, peering under his wing to watch beneath him. Julan began uncertainly, "How... am I supposed to... I couldn't even..."

"If you wish to please," Odahviing cut him off, "then touch. It is not so difficult, in truth."

As soon as he said it, he felt hands on either side of his shaft, stroking against his ridges. Odahviing straightened his neck, huffing through his nares and shivering; finally he was treated to the stimulation he'd put off for so long. The touch of even these comparatively small hands was unusually intense. He growled with need, feeling the argonian gingerly play across his length with a pre-slick hand.

Though his fingers were tentative at first, Julan sucked in a breath of the heady scent of dragon arousal. He worked his hands over every inch of the exposed flesh, polishing the dragon's maleness with the fluid continuously seeping from its tip. Odahviing shivered as he felt their touch on his bulging base, and crooned as they ran across his ridges. The argonian must have realized how sensitive they were, beginning to pay special attention to them. His fingers curled to rub beneath them as he stroked over each one, the dragon above him quivering heavily. If Julan had any aversion to what he was doing, it didn't show in the dutiful work of his hands.

Those delicate fingers! So precise they were as they pleasured him, it was like nothing Odahviing had felt. He couldn't help humping the air slightly. A stroke along the first ridge by his tip eked a groan from him, and a slightly harder thrust, inadvertently smacking the argonian's chin.

"Krosis," he grunted, "I will strive to contain mys-Aaahh!"

He found the tip of his shaft hugged gently against the scales of the argonian's chest. Another hand lay atop his shaft, urging him lower. Julan's murmur barely reached him. "Don't hold back."

Odahviing paused, taking in these words and exhaling heavily. Julan wanted him to thrust against his front... Already the fluid he produced made the fine scales of the smaller reptile delightful to rub against. A part of himself recognized it was odd, perhaps even obscene to rub off against a joor's body, but just then, he didn't care. Lowering his hindquarters, he lay the length of his male flesh against the argonian from sternum to groin - even feeling Julan's still mildly stiff member against his base. As he drew back, Julan's knees closed, his thighs lightly pressing his shaft from the sides. His tip drooled a trail of pre.

Drawing a quivering breath, Odahviing began to rock his hips. Tip smearing his fluids, just a few soft thrusts made the argonian's front slick. Hands kneaded over the top of his shaft, coaxing him. And if there was any question whether Julan minded... his own member grew hard, stroked by the ridges of the dragon's maleness. Odahviing, rumbling a draconic moan, began to pick up his pace, pumping between those legs. He relished the feel of the argonian's already spent tool, his slicked front, the soft scales of his thighs, and his caressing hands. His tail began flagging as he thrust harder, faster, feeling his loins burning with need. He'd craved for it, but denied himself to please Julan. And to find Julan willing to try and return the favor...

He really did see Odahviing as more than a tool.

Claws sinking into the ground, the dragon thrummed happily at this realization. His head sank, and he peered under his wing at the scene beneath his rolling hips. Watching himself grind against Julan made him feel so crude... but he couldn't deny it felt good. The image came to him of emptying his seed onto the argonian. Though... maybe Julan would not appreciate that. Odahviing ached to just do it. He felt himself tensing, his body moving almost as though it were no longer his own; he was too close. "Julan," he gasped, trying to slow himself. "I don't think I..."

"Don't hold back," the argonian groaned, beginning to work his hips up in time with Odahviing's thrusts.

What restraint he had left was blown from Odahviing's mind. He was rubbing off dovahkiin... and the dovahkiin wanted him to do it. His lust was unbridled. He growled deeply as he felt his climax building; he couldn't remember it feeling so immense. Every muscle went taut, his jaw clenching and tail flailing as he ground wildly. He loved the feel of those fine, pre-soaked scales against his ridges. Hands cupping his tip drove him to the edge. Again he growled, his shaft pulsing... Finally, it burst from his tip - a gush of white dragon seed. Hearing Julan's gasp, Odahviing clung to the wherewithal to move if need be, not desiring to drown the argonian. But he didn't have to; Julan kept breathing, stroking with his hands and clenching with his thighs as Odahviing spilled all his copious, virile semen. The full load came with hardly a pause between spurts, and the dragon pressed his hips down with a deep groan.

The elation of Odahviing's release was slow to subside, but the feeling that replaced it... As he was slowly reminded of their desolate location, even the bleak surroundings could not shake the warmth he felt. Taking a peek beneath his wing, he couldn't bar a chuckle either. From groin to collarbone, Julan was covered in white fluid, and rivulets of the stuff ran off his body in every direction. The argonian's spent tool was slowly receding into the layers of white coating the scales around his vent. The dragon's own shaft twitched, pushing out a few drops that hadn't quite made it. A deep breath later, he backed off, exposing the drenched argonian to the bright morning sky.

As the dragon lay down beside the dovahkiin, they glanced at each other. The unease growing in Julan's eyes burned away the blissful fog in Odahviing's mind, and the gravity of what had just happened between them began to sink in. That, and their genitals slipped back into their respective vents. The dragon averted his gaze, but found his eyes drifting back to the argonian. He found it difficult to speak.

Julan would likely prefer to ignore the incident, the dragon suspected. But neither of them would soon forget what had transpired. Odahviing drew a breath, determined to break the heavy silence.

His companion beat him to it. "This never happened," Julan intoned, "as far as anyone else is concerned. Got it?"

The dragon felt a twinge of amusement. So the argonian would be practical. But Odahviing readily agreed to this much. "Zu'u nahlot. I will speak of this to none, neither mortal nor dov." Dragons wouldn't exactly look kindly on sexual encounters with the joor races, even the dovahkiin. It would look weak, petty. He doubted other mortals would react any better. "Anything else, Julan?"

The argonian wiped a hand across his belly; while he did scoop a large pool of the stuff off him, his scales were still smeared with it, and more was oozing down from his chest. "Where's the nearest river? Or lake?"

"Some miles, I fear," the dragon mused, recalling the landscape he had surveyed the previous day.

"...not want to let this stuff cake inside my cuirass..." Julan muttered darkly.

Odahviing knew a way to get the argonian clean. Of course, Julan wouldn't like it. But seeing as how there wasn't really another option... the dragon was not looking forward to telling Julan and waiting awkwardly for permission.

So he didn't bother to ask, leaning over to the argonian.

Julan got as far as opening his mouth, but the question never came, as the draconic tongue slurping up the layers of fluid from the smaller reptile's scales.

"Leave me alone." The argonian tried to sit up, but the dragon nosed him in the sternum, pressing him back down. His companion sighed as his chest was cleaned. Odahviing didn't meet his eyes, only went about lapping up the mess he'd made as as best he could. His tongue made quick work of the bulk of his cum with broad licks. He was perhaps not as thorough as he could have been over Julan's groin, ignoring the noises he elicited tonguing over the other male's slit.

The argonian shivered lightly as his sides were cleaned of the dribbles. Slowly, he lay his head back, exposing his white-spattered neck. He even and gave a quiet, appreciative hum as Odahviing's tongue swept up the droplets there. As the dragon finished, he lowered his head.

Odahviing regarded Julan, finding the argonian reserved. At least he was offering no complaint.

There was, however, a bit of semen strewn up the middle of his snout. Odahviing licked before he quite realized what such a gesture might seem like; sure enough, the argonian grimaced and shook his head. The dragon pulled his head back, swallowing as he withdrew. Anything he might have said to inform Julan he'd merely been cleaning the last bit of cum would probably sound like a bad excuse, so he merely muttered, "Krosis."

Julan offered no response. Drawing a deep breath, he shook himself and got to his feet. The dragon's eyes were upon the bleak, gray landscape again. Absent as he seemed, his ears tracked the argonian as he gathered the pieces of his gear and dressed. Odahviing couldn't help but wonder if things would be... different, now, between himself and the dovahkiin. Was witnessing one another's most primal lust an event they could truly walk away from completely unscathed? Only time would tell.

Soon the muffled clank of armor accompanied Julan's step, and the dragon turned to gauge him as he approached.

"Odahviing," the argonian began. "May I ride you, the way you flew me to Skuldafn?"

The dragon growled. Did Julan think their little encounter had changed that? "Niid, dovahkiin. As I have said, I will not quicken the deaths of my..."

"I'm not hunting that dragon."

The dragon inclined his head, incredulous.

"Would you fly me back to Skyrim? If..." The argonian dropped his gaze. "If you want my companionship... take me home."

The dovahkiin lifted his eyes to find Odahviing thrumming thoughtfully.

"Yes, Julan. I will take you."