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The Dragon Slayer's Reward

"Three cheers for the Dragon Slayer!"

The Hangman's Stop was a real dive - a particularly stinking turd in the cesspool of the Seafront district. It was owned by a human, but in the last couple years the inn had become the watering hole almost exclusively of half-men and monster kin: orcs, goblins, cold-eyed lizard folk and all other savage creatures that didn't fit in the ordered society beyond the Bronze Gate.

I didn't make it my business to visit very often. Not that I dislike the clientele. Being the devious little cunt I am I fit right in. In fact, I admit, I've got a bit of a weakness for fellas lacking a little civility. The bigger, the meaner, the dumber, the better. That's my rule.

No, what I really didn't care for, besides the danger, was the way they watered the beer. Even someone my size would have better luck getting drunk off horse piss.

"Three cheers you fuckin' cunts! We got a hero with us!"

The idiot bellowing was an absolute mountain of a man; a half-orc thug who went by 'Fist'. It was a name he had given himself, of course. I heard it on good word that his real name was Poltuk. I'd have given myself a nickname, too, if I'd been called that. He was a regular and I'd been here enough to know he was a troublemaker.

A convoy from the Scouring Coast had come in to dock that morning, so the inn was packed with labourers. I couldn't make out, at first, who the unfortunate 'Dragon Slayer' was who had caught Fist's attention. To be honest, I wasn't much interested. It was probably just some poor prick who'd made the mistake of trying to make conversation. No-one else seemed to be joining in, at least.

I made my way through the forest of legs, unnoticed for the most part as I weaved my way towards the bar. There were no stools, but a wooden ledge along the bottom allowed me to step up and poke my snout over. It was a surprising accommodation for us smaller folk in a place like this. I didn't take it for granted.

Glancing sidewards I finally saw who it was the big oaf was tormenting. I couldn't help but grin.

"'ey, Rigs. That prick givin' you some trouble?" I called. Perched likewise against the bar was a wiry little green figure that I had come to know pretty well indeed. Rigger was his name and, for a goblin, he was a pretty stand-up guy. His sour expression brightened the second he spotted me and a wicked grin just like mine split his face.

"Oi. Better watch yerself, wyrmling. Don't yer know there's a dragon slayer 'ere?" Fist was the one who spoke and I looked up to meet his eyes. His tone had turned threatening. I knew better, though.

"Oh aye? All I see is a drunken fool who's forgot who he's talking to." As far as insults went 'wyrmling' was a tame one to throw at a kobold, but on seeing Rigs I wasn't in the mood to deal with any shit. I suddenly had other plans.

The half-orc glowered at me, but he didn't say anything. I knew he wouldn't. I ran with a crowd that made people think twice before starting trouble. It was a good thing, too. Not that I couldn't handle myself, but the guy had a four foot advantage on me in height. I barely came up past his knee. As good as I was with a shank the odds weren't favourable.

Finally he snorted, grabbed his cup of swill and drank it down. "Fuck you an' the lizard whore who laid yuh." He belched unabashed then pushed off the bar, wobbling off unsteadily into the crowd.

As soon as he was gone Rigs came shuffling over. "Cheers for that."

Now, I definitely wasn't a sentimental guy but the goblin shifting up next to me held a special place in my withered little heart. We'd met a good few years ago on a ship called the Saima Rose and, though I had been pretty sceptical, he turned out to be the sole exception to my rule. After that first time amongst the crates and mouldy sacks below deck we fucked like meadow hares every time we met. He was the definition of never judging a book by its cover.

Then again, maybe I was being unfair. Looking at him now I had to admit he was a handsome little creature. For a goblin, of course. His face, smudged carelessly with oil, was narrow like a rat's, but his eyes more than made up for that. They were big; rich amber and expressive. I liked that. His ears, too. You couldn't see them properly now as they were pinned back by the ragged bandana he wore on his head, but without it they stood out pretty far. They were huge and flap-like.

I caught myself admiring him and my grin sank into small smirk.

Come on, now. Let's not get carried away.

"Don't mention it. Always happy to help a friend in need." I tapped the bar with a claw to get some attention. "What was that shit he was givin' you about a dragon slayer?"

Rigs shook his head. He was reaching for his coin pouch but I waved him off. First ones were on me. "Oh nothin'. Janner Dury was havin' some trouble with a sewer skink eatin' her birds at night. She paid me to get rid of it."

"Ain't like you to do wetwork." Beer was the only thing on tap so I ordered two. Fortunately the barman didn't charge us extra for it as some liked to. Something about a pint being 'more for us small fellas than for the big'uns'.

"I was the only one who could fit down the pipe." His grin broadened as he said that and when the drinks came he tipped his cup to slurp from it.

That was another thing I admired about him. There wasn't much of a life to be had in the city outside of the inner terraces. Fordune was surrounded by slums and the majority of those who lived there were a callous and dour lot. I didn't blame them, of course. Every day was a struggle. Rigs, though, somehow managed to keep a kind of optimism about him. He had it just as bad as anyone, but if he was as jaded as the rest of us he hid it well.

"Aye? An' what did that old crone pay you?" I pulled my own mug into my scaly mitts and stepped down off the bar. It was better to go find somewhere to sit. More comfortable, and we were in less danger of getting jostled.

"Two and a half."

"Two and a half bits to crawl on your belly through shit?" I snorted. We ducked our way to a table at the back. There was a puddle across it from an upturned cup, but we weren't picky. With the crowd tonight we were lucky it was free. I pulled two chairs together so we could sit and talk.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't doin' anythin' else. Was two an' a half bits I wasn't gettin' otherwise."

There was very little I would do for that kind of money. I was used to far more lucrative contracts. "How's work goin' otherwise? You still workin' the boilers at the guard house?"

Rigs shook his head. "Nah. They're hookin' all the steam pipes up to the central furnaces. Big project."

"An' what? Now you don't have any work at all?"

"I've got a couple new things lined up, I'm doin' alright."

From the tone of his voice I didn't know if I believed him and I think my frown gave that away.

"You don't have to worry about me, Voth, I'm doin' alright. Really." His grin came back as he spoke but I still wasn't convinced. "What about you, anyway? You haven't been back since spring."

"Aye. I've been busy." I took a drink and let that statement hang. Rigs had an idea of the kind of work I was into so he didn't pry further than that. "Good to be back though, an' to see your ugly mug."

"Oh yeah?" The look in his eye turned mischievous. I wasn't one to give compliments. I probably caught him by surprise.

"Well, it was a long trip. Felt even longer with just my hand for company." I wasn't one for subtlety, either.

He didn't say anything at first, but he didn't need to. We'd done this dance many times before and it always ended the same way.

"An' for a gutter rat you're not a bad fuck." I pitched in before Rigs had a chance to speak and when I did his grin grew so wide it showed every one of his sharp teeth. He was embarrassed. Something about that turned me on suddenly and fiercely.

"C'mon, Voth, not here." He mumbled into his beer, eyes looking this way and that to see if anyone had heard us.

I just smirked and drank. There was a real good night in store for both of us.

---

We only managed two drinks before our patience wore thin. Riggs had been hard as a rock since my first comment. I knew because my hand was on him, under the table, not long after. As usual his bashfulness evaporated the more he drank, until his shit-eating grin was nothing but lewd and his bony little mitt went searching for my cock too. That was the tipping point.

We had left the inn and had barely gotten around the corner before we were on each other - a tangle of limbs, snout-to-mouth, tongue-to-tongue. It didn't last, though. The open street wasn't the place for it. I had some digs nearby, so we hurried there.

To say the place was uncomfortable was an understatement. It was little more than a draughty cellar, but it had a bed and that was better than most places. It was pitch black as we felt our way inside, but I managed to light a candle. After that I shunted the bolt on the door and, finally, we were alone.

Rigs wasted no time in hoisting himself up on the bed. That dumb grin had never left his face. On anyone else I might have found it infuriating, but somehow he made it work for me. I began to take off my clothes.

"You're lookin' good." He squawked, in that scratchy voice of his.

I glanced to the 'mirror' on the wall aside. It was polished steel and probably once served its purpose quite well. Now, though, time had made it tarnished and warped. I barely made out my blurred outline and the dark, fiery rust-orange of my scales. I didn't need my reflection to know the truth, though. Running a hand down my cream-coloured front I turned my eyes back to the goblin on my bed.

"Yeah, Rigs. An' tonight I'm all yours."

That made him tingle. I could tell by the look on his face. If he hadn't been wearing his bandana his ears would have given him away even more. In fact, fuck that thing. I clambered up onto the bed and pulled the ratty piece of cloth - and the goggles he wore over it - off his head. His ears sprang up and then his hands were on me, grasping at my sides as we began to kiss.

I undressed him as we knelt there, pulling off what of his clothing I could without parting us for too long. Soon he was as naked as I was.

Comparatively, he wasn't much to look at. We were both the same size but whereas I was lean with fluid curves of muscle he was thin and wiry. His skin was pale greenish and smudged with machine oil, his limbs gangly and ungainly. Even to those outside my species I was attractive, as my scales were smooth and rich in colour, and my crest proud - I was handsome and sculpted, he was a runt. I didn't care. Something about him turned me on savagely and our tongues embraced as our bodies pressed flush for the longest time.

I was aware, the whole while, of just how hard he was. It was difficult to miss, really. He had the biggest cock that I'd ever seen on anyone our size - goblin, kobold, any race. It must have been about six and a half inches. Closer to seven. On a human it would have been just a little above average, but on Rigs it looked obscene. I could wrap two hands around it and still not reach the head. It was thick, too. I can still remember the smug look on his face when he pulled it out that first time. I was stuck for a thing to say.

Now that fat piece of meat stood up, proud and angry - pressed against my belly. I could feel its heat and its weight, and I was so damn hungry for it. I was hard, too, but my cock still hadn't left my slit, pushing it up into a hard mound at my crotch that ached for release.

We parted with a wet smack of our lips, as heated as each other.

"You want to suck it?"

I wasn't used to taking orders. In my work and in my life I was the one in charge. Even despite my size there were a vast number of men and beasts who would do anything if I asked. They knew, from my reputation, what would happen if they didn't. I was a nasty piece of work - a Creature of Consequence - and I got what I wanted.

Now, though? Now this snaggle-toothed goblin fuck was asking me to suck his cock and I just couldn't think of anything else I'd rather do. It happened every time. I just couldn't say no.

"Yeah." I smirked and grabbed that fat piece between us, squeezing it. I felt it surge hard under my fingers in response. "I do."

He just lay back, legs spread and propped up on his elbows, with a booze-dulled look of lustful contentment right across his face. He was going to get it good and he knew it. Smug cunt. I felt the urge to kiss him again, but I knew I had something better a hand.

I shuffled back on my knees then leaned down, putting my free hand to the mattress to support my weight as my snout went right on that straining log of goblin meat. It was a work of art, really. As vulgar as any cock had right to be - thick and curved and covered in purple veins that stood out starkly against Rig's light skin. The head was the same deep colour and grew to such a painfully bloated size that the goblin's foreskin struggled to contain it.

I tugged his hood back gently, but it didn't budge. It was stretched so tight around the flared rim of his glans that it seemed to be strangling his tip. Rig's breath hitched when I pulled and he reached down, but I batted his hand away. I didn't want him ruining my fun.

"Careful, Voth." He breathed.

I didn't reply. With deliberate slowness I slipped my reptilian tongue out, then slick and slow around his crown. As I did I began to pull back on his shaft again, easing his skin back. He gave a strained grunt. He was incredibly sensitive. I loved it.

"Voth..."

I didn't let up. I wanted my prize. Each fraction of a fraction of an inch that skin rolled back made it squeeze all the more taut. I slurped each new, shining bit of cockflesh as it was revealed. I wasn't cruel, though. I was as gentle as I could manage. Perhaps even a little slower than I could have been. I enjoyed making him squirm.

Finally, helped along by plenty of my spittle and my warm tongue, that tight seal popped off the rim of Rig's crown and tucked snugly beneath it, with a whole-bodied shiver of relief from the goblin. I eased back to admire it for a moment.

The bulbous, glistening knob of flesh sat like a ripe plum on the end of Rig's cock. It was oozing from its broad slit already, and that's when I couldn't resist anymore. I lapped and lashed it with my tongue mercilessly, feeling its heat and tasting the salt of the slickness it seeped. He crooned and I felt the tension rise in his body, his fingers grasping about my horns and crest to urge me down on to him. I obliged.

My head sank as my snout parted, slipping over that massively thick prick and drawing it into the sweet warmth of my maw. It was a jaw-wrecking mouthful, but I sucked and slurped on that hard, smooth flesh until my eyes watered from the ache.

My own cock had slipped free and I pulled on it furiously as I blew the scraggly gutter-rat stretched out on my blanket. I was nowhere near as well hung. I was four inches at best, and nothing but disappointingly average in terms of thickness. My other hand, the one not beating myself off in a frenzy, twisted and pulled slickly on the fat shaft that wasn't in my mouth - working my overflowing spit all over that length, right down to his wiry black pubic hair.

For his part Rigs couldn't have done anything better to turn me on. He huffed and rocked his hips slow, using his grip on my head as leverage to sink his obscene cock past my lips with a soft, wet squish each time. He didn't push too hard, but I still gagged now and then. The blunt face of that thing hit the back of my throat before my nose even inched past the middle of it.

The ache soon turned into an intense burn so I eventually, regretfully, slipped off and sat back a little - still pumping that huge prick with my fist. I could tell by the way Rigs was panting that he was getting there already.

"Want to put the first one down my throat?" I grinned deviously. My little green friend was blessed with a goblin's stamina, I knew that from experience. Unlike some of the huge brutes I'd bedded in the past Rigs was insatiable. On our best nights he'd cum four or five times before I'd be too tired to continue. If I said we fucked like meadow hares, then that was definitely truer for him than I. Two was usually my best, but I stretched them out to accommodate his animal libido.

Rigs nodded in response, the rings in his floppy ears clinking and his eyes dulled with the rising pleasure. I spat into my hands and used both of them to beat him off - putting my whole body into the motion and taking care to grip and twist the bulbous tip at the top of each stroke.

"Don't stop. Don't stop." He huffed, jaw loose and head easing back. His cock was so big that I swore it must've had more control over his body than he did. It definitely seemed that way every time I got my hands on it. He seemed powerless to the pleasure it gave, and I found it deeply arousing just how much it made him gasp and grunt and writhe.

"I'm gonna go! I'm gonna shoot!" He croaked, grimacing as I pushed him to the cusp and over it. My maw was on his meat before the first jet.

I barely managed to suckle his tip before his spunk washed hot over my tongue. I groaned in satisfaction. The second squirt hit the roof of my mouth and splattered to fill my muzzle with its strong taste - salty-sweet and bitter. I took every jet and let it sit on my tongue, more and more coming with each kick of that cock. Rigs always shot a thick load, especially in comparison to mine, which was usually pretty watery. It was doubtless another goblin trait. I had come to get used to it.

I got greedy and a trickle of the slippery stuff oozed from the corner of my lips. I had wanted to keep all of it in my mouth until he was done, but with the bulk of his prick there just wasn't room. In a single, hard gulp I put all of that thick seed right in my belly, where it belonged. My head swam and I let out a long breath through my nose, which tingled with the potent stink of cum that rose up the back of my throat. Then I slurped and I suckled until his orgasm ran dry.

I hadn't realised how much of a cocksucker I was until I'd met Rigs.

Pulling back I let that dick flop from my lips, slapping heavy against the goblin's belly. He was hard as ever. I belched and my eyes watered again, but I was smiling.

"How long were you holdin' that one for? Nearly choked on it."

He just grinned his usual grin and let himself fall back against the bed proper, his tension drained. He didn't reply right away, his eyes were closed and he looked, for want of a better word, just euphoric. I felt a pang of affection for him.

"Couple days. Didn't get the chance to pull one out for a while."

I slipped my tongue out all around my muzzle, swiping the taste of him from my lips. He watched me do it, then reached an arm up towards me. I took his hand and he pulled me down. He was a little too bony to hold comfortably, but I did it anyway and molded my sleek body against his. My tail came to curl around his ankle as we shared body heat.

"Want me to suck you?"

I shook my head. Not yet. He still had another one to go before I'd allow myself mine. Before I could speak he kissed me again and I found myself grinding my straining prick against his thigh, our lips locked and the sound of the gentle, wet churning of our mouths filling the room.

"I'm gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk." We barely parted when he spoke, his words coming with hot breath over my snout.

"Yeah?" I snarled, my ego prickling in defiance, but my voice thick with nothing but lust. I wanted it so badly. I knew that, and I couldn't help my savage grin of anticipation. "The fuck makes you think you're gonna do that?"

"'Cause I've fucked your lizard tail every time we've met." He was so mellow in comparison, even with that coarse, cracking voice. "I'm gonna slide my fat fuckin' cock all the way into you, an' make you whine like a dog in heat."

I snarled again, viciously, but I'm sure he heard the desperation in it. No-one could get me more worked up. I had come to lean over him and he just looked up at me with those big eyes. I kissed him, hard, and my tail thrashed like a whip over us.

Eventually he pushed back, easing me into his lap as he sat up.

"Got any grease?" He asked. I nodded, then slid off him. I'd bought some in anticipation of coming to the city. Not especially for him, but I was glad I had it now. I was going to need a lot.

Slipping off the bed I kneeled to pull my pack from under it, and from inside that the pouch of grease. It was a hefty lump wrapped in burlap and it wasn't very pleasant. It didn't have to be for where it was going, though. I tossed it to Rigs, then climbed back up.

"Feels better when you put it on."

I gave him a look, but did it anyway. Scooping a blob onto my fingers I warmed it in my hands until it was perfectly slick, then smoothed it over Rigs's cock. He was hard as ever and as I worked the stuff over it the piece throbbed in my hands. I couldn't imagine how it'd fit, but it had so many times before. I added another big glob for good measure and by the time I was finished the goblin was hissing in pleasure through his teeth.

"Short fuse, eh?" I scowled, but only mockingly. He didn't rise to it. I quickly slopped a generous dollop beneath my tail, on my hidden pucker. It felt far too tiny for the task at hand but I managed to work a couple of fingers into it, with a wince, to the middle knuckle. He just stroked my sides encouragingly as I did so.

"Ready?"

I was never ready for his battering ram, but I nodded anyway. This was as good as it was going to get.

"Get on your hands and knees."

I did, without a word, then reached out to drag the mould-stained pillow down to my face. I was going to need it. With my tail arced over my back I presented myself to him and that monster between his legs. That scrawny little fuck was going to pound my brains out. That dirty fucking, oil-smeared goblin rat was going to breed me over and over and I was going to beg for it.

I shivered, grinning like a madman into the fabric and spread my knees a little wider.

Fucking right I was going beg. I was going to beg and snarl and squeal and roar. I was going to take every inch of that vulgar fucking cock and love every second.

Except I was left waiting.

"C'mon Rigs. What're you doin'?" I growled, breathlessly. My voice was muffled and, for a moment, I thought he didn't hear me. "Put it in me! C'mon!" I was just about to raise myself up when I got what I wanted, and my whole body tensed.

The cunt had wanted to hear me whine. That massive cockhead jammed itself right up against my hole, which squeezed tight in response. That wouldn't do. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I knew it was going to hurt like hell, but I did what I could to relax. I bore down a little and my ring softened. It dented inwards around the dome of that immense club of a dick and ached and ached. I gritted my teeth. I needed it too much to let the pain put me off.

I knew Rigs was being about as gentle as he could be, but he couldn't afford to go too soft on me. There was definitely a good amount of strength needed to force that thing inside me, and he dutifully ramped up the pressure. I hissed like the reptile I was, but before it went on too long a surprising lance of pain made me shout so loud and so suddenly it became a sharp screech.

It was a sound I'd forgotten I could make and my cheeks burned as I buried my face, bearing all my sharp teeth in a hidden, self-conscious snarl.

"You alright?" Rigs was stock still, my ring squeezing his prick agonisingly tight, just behind the head. The concern in his voice was genuine, but only passing. We'd done this so many times that he was used to my whimpering. It was just a shame we didn't do it often enough that I'd get used to him. I wondered if that was possible.

I panted, my arms and legs trembling. My hole hurt like hell, but the worst part was done. I barely turned my head to speak; I didn't want him seeing the look on my face. "Yeah. Sh-shit. Just stay there."

He did as I asked and his hands went gently over my back, up and down as he waited. The pain was slow to ebb, but it hit a tolerable point just as Rigs began to roll his hips soft and shallow. I hadn't told him he could go, but I didn't object, either.

I groaned. It wasn't unbearable, but there was just so much of it that I felt as though I'd have better luck cramming my fist up there.

Eventually, though, with perseverance those shallow strokes went deeper and deeper - slicker and wetter, until each instroke gave a moist squelch and made me gasp. The feeling was so intense I wanted to spit and growl, to tear at the bed with my teeth. I didn't. I just lay there, shaking, as Rigs reamed me to the core. When his hips feathered my upturned rump I hissed low and, on the next stoke, pushed back to press us flush.

I'd taken him to the root. It was an achievement every time and the tingle that raced down my spine was reward enough. I couldn't imagine how deep that fat cockhead was buried in my belly, but I knew that was exactly where I wanted it when he blew.

"Oh, fuck, Rigs." I growled, unsteadily.

"Yeah. You're doin' so good." He rubbed me soothingly as he spoke, and in that moment I was stunned by just how badly I wanted him.

"Fuck me. C'mon. Hard."

"Shh. You've gotta get used to me." I could hear his smile. If I wasn't speared on that much cock I was sure that, with the burst of angry passion I felt, I'd have made him bleed. Or, maybe it was the dick buried deep in my guts that was making me feel that way? It was definitely sending hot flushes through my body with the sheer intensity of it.

I didn't know, but I held tight until he was ready to start. He was kind and didn't keep me waiting too long.

It began pretty slow, with languid humps of those narrow hips that stirred his cock deep in me. It was so bulky that I could felt its weight rolling inside and I groaned. I groaned and I groaned, squirming against his grip on my waist.

"Fuck, Rigs."

He responded only by picking up the pace, drawing himself back for a longer stroke and sliding that slick shaft out of me before pressing it smoothly back in. More and more, further and further, soon he was pulling out to the middle of his long cock and, for me, that might as well have been a mile.

The more shaft he worked in and out of me the more of it my straining pucker was made to slurp over. Where there had been pain there was now just a buzzing tingle. It was incredible and arced down to my drooling, ridged cock, pooling at my tip and making it glow with promised pleasure. I knew if I touched myself I would blow in an instant.

Squelch. Squelch. Squelch.

By the time he reached his full stride I was a hissing, writhing mess. I clawed twisted fistfuls of the blanket beneath us in some desperate outlet for the feelings crashing through me. My tail twitched and shivered over my back and it was all I could do to keep my rear bared for each hearty thud of his hips against mine.

Soon I could feel his fingers tightening at my waist. He never had a long fuse. I was just about to grab my own prick, to match him and come together as he shot his scum into me, but it wasn't to be. He pulled every wet, vein-bulging inch out of my body with a lewd sucking noise and I was stretched so tight that I felt each one go. When the head popped out, huge and shining, I whined through my teeth.

"What're you doing?"

Without its bulk in me I was hollow, my soft hole gaping hungrily even as I tried to squeeze it closed.

"Put it back in!"

Despite my growing ire Rigs wasn't trying to torment me. He pushed me onto my side and I wasn't in any state to resist. When I saw his face, smirking rakishly and gleaming with the first of his sweat, I knew what he wanted. I slid to my back. The pillow was already wet with my spittle and tears, squeezed out by the desperate effort of taking him, but I lay my head back against it and grasped my legs behind the knees.

He slipped back inside me, to the root, with the most vulgar sound and I squealed; tossing my head to the side and snapping my jaw lizard-like. I knew how pitiful I sounded - my cries probably not much different to the skink's that Rigs had culled the day before - but was I ashamed? Not one bit. I was too far gone, my pride subdued by the sheer mass of cock plugging my guts.

He railed away at me mercilessly, leaning over with his eyes on my face. He wanted to see me struggle. He wanted to watch me cringe and drool and grind my teeth - and I couldn't help but give him a show. In fact, I made no effort to spare my dignity. I wanted him to see what he was doing to me, the way he owned my body.

Part of me wished that the mirror across the room was not so ruined. I think I would have came right at that moment, without touching myself, if I could watch Rigs' scrawny, sinewy frame ploughing his lust into my considerably more proud, dragonic form.

"Looks like you're havin' fun, lil' snake." His voice came breathy and strained with the exertion of mating me. I met his eye and could do nothing but nod, my mind too sluggish to find any words.

He forced his lips over mine clumsily, both of us jostling with his rapid humps, and we kissed with shameless, sloppy passion. My hands slipped from behind my knees so I could hold him, and as my arms encircled him so did my legs - ankles locked over one another to pull him down into me.

"You're goin' to make me cum like that..." He huffed against my snout, his eyes closed. The tackiness of his increasingly damp flesh meant that each thrust ended in a slap as skin met scales, and it was a sound that I had come to love. It was the music of raw, animal fucking and each one was proof of his conquest over me - each one the sound of my submission to take his cock and seed.

Dragons were legendary creatures, born in fire to rule and destroy, and I was dragon kin. In all things, with all other beings, I fought for mastery. This? This was my secret shame, and it thrilled me like almost nothing else. It was a feeling so primal, so base, that it shook me to the core. Almost as deeply as that immense prick drilled.

"Want me to shoot inside you?" I could hear his grin as he grunted in my ear. He knew I did.

"Yes." I snarled and held him close.

I felt breathless from that moment with anticipation, knowing that each vulgar squelch beneath my tail was one more closer to my seeding. He was going to cum, to orgasm inside me. My body was giving him that pleasure and he was going to reward me, claiming me and tainting me by squirting into me the most intimate thing he could give.

I whined again, pathetically, at the shudder my own thoughts brought.

"Shh. Shh. It's comin'." His voice was unsteady, then suddenly so were his thrusts. His cock stabbed something intensely uncomfortable and I tensed. A second later and so did he. "It's-!" He went utterly quiet.

My clawed toes splayed wide with the realisation that he was breeding me, and then my limbs were shaking as I clutched him tight. His face was buried in my neck and I could feel the wiry muscles of his belly jerk to pump his hips against me with each burst of virile gutter-rat seed he gave, even though we were pressed as close as could be.

Sometimes, when he came, I could feel his warmth spread. I couldn't this time, but it didn't matter. I knew he was giving me a lot and I knew he was spurting it as deep as could be - slopping my tender, clenching innards with fat globs of his spunk. I took pleasure in imagining it being planted inside me, oozing further with every twitch of his erupting cock. If I had been a woman he'd have doubtless sired me an impressive brood of eggs. The thought made me feel filthy, and yet achingly connected to the goblin gasping and grunting against my body.

I waited, and waited and waited, for him to finish unloading; my tail hammering sharp smacks against the blanket as he just kept jerking and squirting in orgasm for almost a minute. When his labouring eventually eased I slid my hand down between us and finally allowed myself to come.

It was incredible and satisfying, and every bit as intense as I expected it to be. It took only four pumps before my mind was washed empty with roaring, muscle-knotting pleasure and I snarled desperately as I spattered us both, from cock to muzzle, with my essence. Rigs peeled away as I struggled over my peak and by the time I was done my smooth, soft-scaled front was drenched and gleaming. The smell of it was overpowering in the air.

I was completely spent, and lay near-comatose for the first few minutes that came after. I couldn't hear much over the sound of my panting, and I didn't much care to. For that short time all I wanted to do was lie and float in a fuck-drunk haze. Rigs eventually began to move, though, and that's when I opened my eyes.

"Fuck me like that again and I think I'll go blind." I groaned, not able to help the smile curling one corner of my mouth. Rigs, his cock still buried inside me, had been leaning over on one hand and peering over the edge of the bed. He turned his head as I spoke and returned my smile with a grin of his own. It was handsome on his face put warmth in my chest.

"Yeah? I don't think that's goin' to put you off." He chuffed.

"Fuck no. It'd be a small price to pay." I closed my eyes again as I spoke and arched my back off the bed, stretching. "What're you lookin' for?"

"A rag or somethin'. Before you get crusty."

"In my pack."

He shifted and slurped his length out of me with little consideration, making me hiss. I didn't chastise him, though. I just settled and lay there, peering through narrow, tired eyes to watch him slide off the bed with a thud and go rummaging through my possessions.

I was a worldly creature, and so far from naïve that I had no memory of ever being that way. I knew exactly what it was I felt when I looked at Rigs; that twinge, that slight tightening of my breath. I had felt it only a handful of times before, but it was nothing new to me.

It was a feeling that I regarded with both subdued resentment and begrudging respect. Whether you were a romantic or a heartless cynic you had to admit that love was a powerful force. It drove people to acts of incredible stupidity, to madness. It easily, and often, destroyed lives. That's partly why I gave it a wide berth.

Not long after we had first found the pleasure of each other's company, Rigs had mistaken what we had for love, too. He was coy about it, but I've always had a knack for seeing through subtlety. He asked if he could travel with me, and then, when I said no, he suggested we settle together. I'll admit, while I gave it no serious thought, the urge to say yes was certainly there.

I liked him a lot, and not just for the most obvious reason. He was a grubby little runt, but easy company; agreeable and funny. I didn't feel the same lip-curling disdain for him that most folk seemed to bring on. He wasn't the brightest but from what I could tell he was - that rarest of things - completely and utterly genuine. He wasn't a liar, he wasn't a cheat. He wasn't going to stab me in the back when it suited him. In my line of work, and in the places I frequented, that alone was refreshing and endearing. He was a constant, and he could be relied upon to be exactly who he was.

From my time with him I was convinced the scrawny rat was a good person, and in that respect I was both happy for him and envied him somewhat.

Myself, on the other hand? Voth'ric Hale. Mine was a name with a sinister history. I was most decidedly not a good person, and I say that with neither pride nor shame. I was a murderer and a thief; an opportunist and a vicious one at that. I took what I could for the life I wanted, and then some more just to cushion my nest. As a blacksmith deals in steel, crime was my profession, and I was very skilled at my craft.

As I said, I take no pride in those words. I hold myself accountable for my actions. I'm just illustrating why I can't enjoy love as it's told in the story books. My world is too ugly, and I've been shaped by deceit and violence since I was a hatchling. I see the bad in all things before I see the good, and that's a skill too valuable and deep-seated to try changing my ways now. I've committed vile, atrocious acts, and while the blood on my hands doesn't itself preclude me from loving partnership, it's certainly changed my perspective for the worse. I would corrupt and pick apart anything lasting that I shared with another person, and in the end I am convinced all I would find myself with is the worst thing of all. Disappointment.

Many people in my travels have told me that true love doesn't exist. I disagree. You just have to be exceedingly simple or exceedingly skilled at self-delusion to enjoy it. I wasn't sure which of those, if either, my goblin friend was.

Whatever the case, I didn't have any more time to wax philosophical. Rigs was climbing back up, cloth in hand. My last thought on the subject was that I was more than happy to satisfy myself with these repeated meetings, getting bellyfuls of sloppy goblin spunk each time we met. That itself was one of the greatest pleasures I could ask for.

"You look like you fell in a swamp or somethin'." He quipped as he wiped the cold, slippery seed off my hide. I just lay there and let him do it, not making any effort to move.

"You look like that every time I see you." I returned.

He shot me a look but I could see the twitch at the corner of his mouth. I reached out to stroke his chest comfortingly. "Don't worry. It hasn't put me off yet."

---

It wasn't long before Rigs fucked me again, still on my back and clinging to him like howling whelp.

As a kobold sweating wasn't something I was capable of, but Rigs always made up for that. He worked me so hard that his whole body shone with the effort and the smell of it was something I relished. It was sharp, but thick and strongly masculine for such a small creature. Goblins were notoriously virile and it was doubtless a product of that. I could imagine why some humans might turn up their nose, but I couldn't get enough - I swiped the salt from his damp neck over and over with my tongue as he utterly destroyed me with his cock.

It didn't take him long before he blew hard.

His fourth orgasm, and the one I hoped would satisfy him, came after barely a pause for rest, and with me on top. With my palms flat on his belly and my thighs splayed and bulging I hammered myself down on his achingly hard stalk. By now he had just about pummelled me raw and my gut throbbed painfully in protest. I wasn't deterred. I bounced and jarred to the rhythmic slap, slap, slap, of our clashing bodies until both his previous loads were shaken loose and oozed out of me around his shaft - kicked up into frothy muck by our frenzied rutting.

He made me shoot first, beating my prick until I craned my snout towards the ceiling and came into his hands with a snarl. My climax must have set him off too as he bred me just seconds later, trembling beneath me as he re-seeded my body for all his scum that had slipped free.

By the end of it all I was exhausted and a little relieved when he seemed content to settle.

We cleaned up then slipped under the grimy blanket, chewing on the meagre rations I had left in my pack as we talked.

He told me of his time in the city while I had been gone, and I told him a little of my travels. He was interested, but I was hesitant to share too much. I promised him I would show him the rifle I had 'traded' for in the western port of Kyre. We also, of course, made plans to meet again.

Eventually the candle had snuffed itself out and we had both fallen quiet. I was just feeling myself beginning to drift when something heavy and warm pressed into my thigh. I knew what it was instantly, and even though it was pitch dark I could feel his mischievous fucking smirk nearby.

I resisted at first, and he didn't press me for it too hard. As he settled back into silence, however, I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep. Just knowing he wanted it made lust itch in me maddeningly. In the end, though I knew I wasn't able to come again, I gave in. I found it impossible to deny him.

He slickened himself again with spit, shifting up behind me and lifting my knee so he could take me as I lay on my side. My puffy, battered hole had just about gotten used to being empty again, so when he pushed back inside it was agony.

For his part he was gentle as he could be, just rolling his weight against me slow, working barely an inch of his length. I panted at first, but soon I was whimpering and gritting my teeth. I would have told him to stop, but part of me got off on it. Not on the pain - on giving him what he asked.

He kept at that pace, no faster or slower, until he whispered in my ear that he was close. I told him to do it and his body went stiff. He mated me, again, and I took every drop.

After he pulled his finally-softening cock out I made no effort to clean up. He lay pressed to my back, arm over me, and I didn't have the energy nor will to protest. He fell asleep almost instantly, I could tell by his snoring, and I wasn't far to follow.

The last thing I felt as I circled the void was the oozing wetness under my tail and the profound, penetrating ache of my ruined pucker. Just as I'd expected, it had been a good night and, tired and spunk-drooling as I was, I had to admit I felt completely and utterly conquered.

I stirred to squirm back against the wiry creature draped over me.

Perhaps he was something of a Dragon Slayer after all.