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The Visitor

Desmond, a middle-aged fox dressed in plain garb, held onto his daughter after she'd been thrown down onto the dirt in front of his inn.

"If you don't have the coin next month," a rough wolf towering above them said, "she'll have more blood than cum leaking out of her."

The fox said nothing while he silently wept over his unconscious daughter. She'd been so sweet and so brave, offering herself when the little town she'd lived in couldn't come up with the silver to pay off the band of ruffians that had terrorized her home for several months.

The wolf curtly nodded to no one in particular, sure that the whole town would receive his message.

Kaleb walked away, leaving the fox alone with his daughter. The small town had been the perfect target for extortion; with a population of less than twenty, made mostly of farmers, a stonemason, and the fox, the local innkeeper. They had no blacksmith, which meant nobody had any decent weapons to fight against his gang, and he was free to reap whatever he could wring out from the locals.

The wolf wasn't stupid. He knew the town had barely any coin to give him, but they supplied him and his band with food and worship, forced as it was, but it did feed Kaleb's ego. He knew the only steady coin into the town came from Desmond, the owner of the local inn and currently unfortunate fox, along with the tolls from travelers that wandered through.

So the wolf didn't push harder than he already had. If he pressured too much, the fox might decide to overcome his irrational desire to stay where he was and finally flee the town. The wolf would lose the steady income from extorting him if that happened. It was a fine balance of fear he had to maintain, and he knew he'd pressed enough for today.

Once the wolf was far from the sight of any within the town, people came rushing out of their homes to help Desmond carry his daughter back into their little inn.

The stonemason, a rough looking horse, was physically the strongest person in the town, so he carried the innkeeper's daughter up the stairs on his back while the rest of the townsfolk convened in the dining area in front of the bartending table.

"He's gone too far this time," one rabbit said.

"But what can we do?" a feline asked.

Ideas were put out like they always were, and Desmond sat quietly behind his long bartending table, his spirit resigned to defeat.

They left an hour later after resolving to beg Kaleb for leniency, and the fox slumped over his table, tears slowly flowing down his orange furred cheeks, matting them darker.

He knew the townsfolk meant well, and it wasn't their fault that there was nobody who could stand up against the wretched wolf. That didn't stop the pain from seeing his daughter violated feel any less heavy.

This was the first time the cutthroat wolf had harmed his daughter, the only jewel left in his life. His business had been targeted first, and almost all his profits from running the local inn were given to him.

He hadn't and still didn't want to fight the wolf when it was just his business at risk. But his daughter's boyfriend had refused to succumb to Kaleb's terror, and the poor fox was only in his first year of adulthood when he had become the first casualty of the wolf's dealings.

Desmond shook his head and pulled out a drawer full of unwashed mugs. He grabbed a towel, wetted it, and started cleaning it. The repetitive task kept him from remembering what had happened to his daughter's poor boyfriend.

His mind blocked the memory, but the feelings he had earned that day could not be quelled. The pure hate he had gained that day added to the scorn that grew from the seed of his daughter's suffering this day, and he spoke what he dared not do.

"I'll kill him one day, I swear."

Desmond dropped the heavy mug onto his table when he heard heavy footsteps pass through the entrance of his inn. The floorboards creaked louder and louder as someone approached, and the fox dared not look up, his eyes locked fixed onto the half-cleaned mug and his hand trembling with the wet cleaning cloth. His entire body of fur straightened out, fearing that the newcomer was one of Kaleb's men.

"Look," he stammered out, "I don't know why you're here already. Kaleb gave me until next month."

The stranger's reflection shone on the mug, and the fox jumped up, startling the being that had come into his inn.

It was a dragon. Desmond backed himself into a wall, half because he thought the stranger was part of Kaleb's gang and half because the dragon looked so terribly fearsome.

He was clad in armor that might've once been shining, but now was dull with age. It was clean, however, indicating that the dragon had simply not the time to polish it. Twin spikes jutted out of his shoulder pauldrons, and they were angled almost exactly the same way as his contrastingly bright pair of white horns was. Magic runes were clearly inscribed all over the armor, their drawings foreign and glowing gently purple, and the fox could feel them humming with latent power despite the distance between them: he knew there was plenty of energy just waiting to be released from them at the dragon's command.

The armor covered him from neck to toe, exposing only his tail and pieces of his digitgrade legs. A sheath covered the blade of a sword the dragon kept on his back, but he could see the hilt hanging out next to one of the shoulder spikes, a beautifully forged hilt which had crossguards shaped like a dragon's wing, each adorned with a ruby at the root of the wing. The dragon himself was colored an earthly red, like that of rusted metal, though his tail's hue seemed to be closer to the intensity of fire. His face was smooth, and his head bore a bit of blackish brown hair, with another small tuft forming a goatee on the tip of his chin. Like most dragons Desmond had known, this one had hidden his wings away with a spell, placing them out of phase so they would not be a burden in a world dominated by wingless folk or a weak point in battle.

Desmond didn't recognize the dragon as one of Kaleb's men. It was rather unlikely, considering how dragons held the honor of themselves and their people. But some dragons had been known to depart their lands and cut their ties to their race. Most that did became fantastic mercenaries, their natural strength, armor, and abilities making them some of the most expensive hired blades in the world.

But the fox had also heard stories of some that had turn to banditry. Like all races and species in the world, there were always a few individuals of each who wanted to hurt others.

The dragon was too well-geared for a common thug, however, so the fox did not believe he was one of Kaleb's men. It was also unlikely that he was part of the dragons' military since there'd be no reason for them to travel into this part of the world, though his armor heavily suggested it.

The armored warrior stopped a respectable distance away from the table and stared at the fox, analyzing the innkeeper's appearance. The fox was dressed in a ragged brown vest which covered a white tunic, though the vest seemed to have gained its paltry appearance more from overuse and age than from any cheap or shoddy provenance. The dragon's eyes noticed the fox's fur standing straight where it wasn't clothed, and he tried to relax his posture and forge a pleasant smile. Desmond shook his head rapidly and gathered his wits after understanding that the dragon was not here to rob him.

"Sorry," the innkeeper said. "Sorry, you sort of startled me. Welcome to my inn, is there anything I can do for you?"

The dragon tilted his head in what seemed to be a gesture of apology and smiled. "Ah," he said, "please excuse my choice of daunting attire. You're not the first I've seen to have that reaction."

"T-that's quite alright," Desmond replied. "Are you just traveling by?"

The dragon gave a courteous nod. "I'll take rest here tonight," he said. "How much for a room?"

"Five silvers," the fox said.

"Alright," the dragon replied. "I'll have a drink too. What've you got?"

Desmond shifted his eyes embarrassingly. "Umm, just water."

"Just water?"

"Aye."

The dragon eyed the half-scrubbed mug on the table with curiosity. "You've got mugs, but not a drop of ale?"

"I, umm, sorry, ran out. Won't be restocked in a while."

The dragon let out a disappointed sigh, but he kept his friendly smile on. "Well, I'll have the water then."

Desmond poured him a cup of water and gave it to him, but then he felt a bit of guilt rise in his heart. It had been a long time since he'd had a customer this polite before, so he fought with his own needs for a few seconds before resolving to return the dragon's good manners.

"Wait," the fox said. "I've got some good brew left in my secret stock. It's from Marydale. I'll let a bottle go for a dozen coppers."

The dragon nodded. It was a bit overpriced, but he knew he was in a relatively remote area and wasn't going to get anything cheaper so he took it. "I'll have it straight from the bottle."

Desmond grunted, and then he opened a hidden locked compartment under his empty beer cabinet and pulled out a glass bottle of beer. He uncorked it, and then he handed it to the dragon who took a sip with great relief.

"Good?" the fox asked.

"Very good," the dragon answered. He reached somewhere Desmond couldn't see and dropped five silver and twelve copper coins onto the table.

The fox took the money and pulled out a key from his waist pouch. He placed it respectfully onto the table and said, "Up the stairs, second room on the right."

The dragon nodded and pocketed the key. He took another sip of the beer and sighed. "So tell me what's wrong."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"What's wrong here?"

The fox held an expression of genuine confusion. "Nothing?"

"And there's a bold-faced lie if I've ever seen one. First thing that was off was your reaction to me. You were scared worse than anyone I'd ever intimidated before, as if you were afraid you were going to die. Then there's the mug, but no alcohol. Except for a locked stash under an otherwise empty shelf. And when I came in, you thought I was with someone, someone you're clearly annoyed with or terrified of. So tell me what's wrong."

For an entire minute, the fox didn't know what to say. Could the dragon help him? He scanned over his armor again and concluded to himself that the dragon could probably beat up some two-bit bandits like Kaleb and his gang. But he was outnumbered four or five to one, and more importantly, would he even bother risking his neck for a nearly copperless town?

He could see harm in telling the dragon about the town's plight. The worst thing he could do was shrug and leave the next day, but if Kaleb had found out that he'd warned the dragon of their tolls then he'd be punished. Or worse, the wolf would harm his daughter.

Perhaps there was another way.

"Are you a mercenary?" Desmond asked.

The dragon nodded. "Aye. Is that relevant to your situation?"

"Maybe," the fox said. "It's potentially dangerous for me to divulge information."

"I see." The dragon leaned back a bit. He'd been around the block a few times and understood how dangerous a little information was. "More than ale would disappear, I take it?"

The innkeeper nodded.

The traveling dragon became more intrigued. "How about a trade, then? My story for yours. If you think, judging from my story, that I can become involved in your story positively, then you tell me what your story is."

Desmond thought about it for a moment, and then he nodded when he understood he could back out from telling him about Kaleb if he deemed the dragon unable or unwilling to help. "Okay, deal."

The dragon smiled. "Good, I'll just head upstairs and take this armor off. The cooling spells are starting to unweave, and it's getting quite hot you know."

As a matter of fact, the dragon wasn't getting uncomfortably warm simply because of his armor's enchantments failing. He actually found the fox rather amiable and physically rather charming, and together these qualities aided his willingness to help whatever strange thing was harrowing him.

Desmond gave him a polite bow, allowing him to head upstairs.

The dragon started heading up, but then he stopped and smiled at the fox once more. "My name is Vascryxes, by the way. You can call me Vas. Yours?"

"Oh," the fox yipped, "I'm Desmond."

"Okay, thank you once again, Desmond."

The fox gave him an unsteady smile. "Welcome."

Desmond let out a heavy sigh when Vas departed from his sight. The steps on the stairs had complained rather audibly as the armored dragon climbed them, their creaks and whines as loud as the clinks and clangs of his metal padding, and he had feared that the staircase would not support his mass.

He wondered what the dragon looked like without his armor as he sat behind the bar and waited. Loud thuds reverberated throughout the ceiling, and Desmond imagined the earth-shaded dragon stripping off pieces of his metal shell and letting them drop onto the wooden floor above.

It was a welcome distraction his mind produced, and he accepted the imagery as well as any gift. Caught in his visual conjuration, the fox forgot the fear that was lain upon him, his recovering daughter in the room next to the dragon's, and all the rest of life's little worries.

"He has a gorgeous face," the fox murmured.

Naturally, the next thoughts that passed through his mind were those of many years ago, when his wife was still alive. He tried to keep the passage of memory contained to the happy times, like their first dance in Adelhorn, their home city now far away. He chuckled to himself as he remembered how he had stumbled on those first few steps with his first and only true love, forcing himself to admit to her that he knew nothing about the art of dance.

Aria had taken the news, which Desmond had thought would be disastrous, in stride and humor, and then she'd taken the rest of the evening to teach him the basics. By the end of the night, he was able to twirl with her with effort, but he had never fumbled again.

Three years flashed forward in the fox's eyes. He had married Aria, and she had born him a daughter they'd named Lera. He remembered how relieved he had been when his little girl bore the bright and beautiful orange fur her mother bore and not his own duller kind.

Life had been so great to the three of them, and Desmond longed for those days to return. But they never would. Aria had died from disease ten years after their daughter was born. The feelings of that awful time resurged in the fox, and he suddenly felt grief tug his heart down onto the table.

It was nearly a decade later and time hadn't healed this wound yet.

He had been so stricken with grief that he couldn't stay in Adelhorn. He took his darling little girl and ran far, far away from any crowded city that would remind him of their home. They settled where they were now, Oma, their small little town. There were so few people that they had become a sort of extended family, and they had helped fill the terrible hole his wife's departure had torn through his heart.

Then the hard times came. The town had been left alone mostly by virtue of its insignificant footprint. A rather clever wolf had figured this out a year ago and realized he could target Oma for easy gains. He was right.

The town was too remote to be able to call for help, and they never even had a sheriff as there was never a need for one. Merchants only occasionally passed by, but otherwise the town was entirely self-sustaining. Desmond's inn existed only to house the occasional adventurer, much like Vascryxes. The business was steady enough thanks in no small part to the sheer number of what Desmond considered to be mad adventurers who wished to travel far out into the wilderness beyond the reach of civilization.

The fox looked at his empty shelves. They used to hold all the liquor he had brought from Adelhorn when he'd moved nearly a decade ago. Kaleb and his men had probably pissed them all out by now.

Desmond's head jerked up off the table when he heard the dragon come back down the stairs.

The fox's eyes scanned his body and tracked him as he approached pulled a stool in front of him. Vas pretended not to notice.

Desmond could've sworn someone had set the fireplace on after the dragon settled onto the stool. Like most foxes, he had no particular preference in terms of determining sexual attractiveness, and the dragon possessed a body quite similar to the male partners he had bedded before he had fallen in love with Aria. The armor had hidden bulk, not leanness, and Desmond's eyes dazzled as they examined how thick and strong the muscles lining the dragon's body were. What was particularly amazing, however, was how there were inscriptions drawn all over his scales like they were on his armor. They were different only by the fact that they faintly glowed blue, but the same thrum of contained energy permeated the air. His pants covered the trail of drawings going down, and it was by coincidence that they seemed to converge around his groin.

The fox caught himself staring in that region for several seconds longer than he had intended.

Luckily, the dragon started speaking before anything could happen in the fox's pants.

"So," Vas said, "I suppose a good point to start is when I left my home."

"Aye," Desmond said. "From what I know, dragons rarely leave their homelands."

Vas nodded. "You know correctly. I was twenty years of age when I became one of the unfortunate ones to be plagued by wanderlust."

"Your folk call such desire a plague?"

"Yes. We get it worse than humans, when the few of us do get it, and it's almost unfathomable that they consider it normal. I've wandered, and still am wandering, and still I haven't found what I'm looking for."

Desmond stared at the dragon's mouth as he spoke. He couldn't help but wonder how those scaled lips would feel around his furry muzzle. "What exactly are you looking for?"

Vas chuckled. "That's the problem. I don't know."

"So you became a mercenary?"

"Yes. My race values our nobility and honor. I became a mercenary to help people who needed help. I would've volunteered my services, but volunteering doesn't buy you food or recharge your spells."

Desmond tapped his chin and wondered if the dragon would be willing to help his town for food instead of coin. But first, he wanted to hear more of his tale. "You never joined a city guard or anything?" he asked.

The dragon shook his head. "The city guard would anchor me down, and I wanted that the least. I never want to stay in one place, not until my adventuring blood is satisfied."

"Not until you find what you don't know you're looking for."

"Right. There was once I thought I had found it, but it didn't happen."

"Thought? What do you mean?"

Vas looked to the side. "I'd rather not discuss that."

"Everyone has their secrets," Desmond said. "Alright then. What's the most difficult battle you've fought?"

The dragon closed his eyes, sealing his bright brown eyes behind an earthy black crust. "Have you ever heard of the Silver Hand?"

Desmond shrugged. "Can't say I have."

Vas's eyes reopened. "Not surprised, what with you being so far out in nowhere. They were a mercenary group, and I was with them for a better part of three years. I thought they believed in the same honorable ideals as I did, but I was horribly wrong."

"They were not who they said they were?"

"No. Not at all. They tricked idealistic, naive young idiots like me. This was when I had just traveled the world beyond the dragon country for a little over six months. They said they were helping the common folk. I was fooled."

"What happened?"

"I - well, long story short, I put all the pieces together. It turns out if you're told that no less than six major city's guards are corrupt and stealing from the poor, then you should really re-evaluate who's telling you such information." The dragon's eyes looked away from the fox, recalling the autumn colors they had seen the evening he had faced his superiors. "It was just me. And a friend, a tiger. He was practically in the same situation as I was. He was an explorer, looking for a way to do what was right. The Silver Hand had offered us a fantastic way to channel our talents, or so we thought. He was the only one that believed me when I showed him how our missions didn't make any sense."

"What happened then?" the fox asked.

Vas's eyes sank from memory to sadness, and Desmond noticed but didn't prod. "We fought the leaders of the group," the dragon said. "Two against seven of the strongest mercs I've ever had the displeasure of serving with. We weren't as dumb by then, however, and our wits were as sharp as our blades. We'd lain traps, and the damned mercs didn't expect us to turn colors on them." His eyes sank even lower. "Surprise had been effective, but my friend died while luring the leader into a flame pit."

"Oh," Desmond said solemnly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," the dragon replied. "We could've just run away, but we knew we couldn't let the Silver Hand keep on doing what it was doing. I suppose it was also our way of redeeming ourselves. I'm happy to know he died with that honor."

"I understand." The fox pondered a bit. If the dragon could face down seven powerful and organized mercenaries, then perhaps he could easily handle Kaleb's crew. "So after that battle, what did you do?"

"I kept on wandering solo. It's been another twenty years since I left my homelands, but I never minded."

Desmond couldn't imagine a life like that. He'd always been rooted to a home, whether it was in Adelhorn or Oma. Traveling alone might've been something he could've done as a vacation thing for a month at most, but he would've felt incredibly lonely by the end. His tongue slipped his thoughts, and he asked, "Aren't you lonely?"

The dragon's face remained neutral, and he didn't say anything for a few stretched out seconds. "A bit, sometimes," he finally said. Perhaps lied. "But that's my story. Fair trade?"

Desmond took one step back and then another forward until he had moved nowhere at all. His mind was made up now, and he would ask the dragon for help. "Yes," he said. "I'll tell you my story."

And so the fox did. He told of how he had lived in Adelhorn before he had moved, how he had a loving wife and daughter, and how his life had turned toward ruin after his wife's death.

Vas enjoyed the first part of the story, and he was a little disappointed to hear that he already had a wife, but then he listened seriously after he told him about Aria's departure. When the fox told him about Kaleb and his extortion scheme, he clenched his fist and his mind had already made its decision.

"I'll drive him out," Vas said. "I'll kill him if justice demands it. Has he harmed anyone?"

"He, uhh, he raped my daughter today," Desmond said softly. He debated whether or not he should tell him about his daughter's boyfriend. He decided not to for now.

"I'll make sure he rots in a prison for the rest of his life," the dragon said. "Don't you worry about him any longer."

One part of the fox wanted to thank the stranger that had come into his life to rescue him, and another was afraid of what would happen if he were to fail. He settled with a proper "thank you" along with an "I don't know what I can do to ever repay you."

"You're welcome," Vas said. "No pay is necessary, but if you could let me room until you fetch him into town I would greatly appreciate it. My coin purse is lighter than I'd like."

"Of course," the fox said. He didn't want to inconvenience the dragon by making him wait a month, so he'd have to send a notice of refusal to pay via one of Kaleb's food harvesters who came by every week for a batch of produce from the farmers.

A light thud echoed through the ceiling, causing both their heads to twitch up.

"Ah," Desmond said, "if you'll excuse me, my daughter's awake. Feel free to look around town."

"Thank you."

The fox went up to Lera's room and paused in front of her door to issue a quiet prayer. Fate had tossed him a slice of hope, and he had made a very large bet that hope would not falter.

He opened the door and walked in to see his daughter sitting on the edge of her bed and sadly flipping through a book. She noted him with a simple whimper. "Papa."

Desmond took heavy slow steps until he was standing next to her. He patted a paw on the scruff of her neck and caressed her fur gently. "Lera, my dear, I'm so sorry."

He sat down next to her and looked at what she was browsing over.

It was their old family sketchbook, a little compilation of all the sketches he had drawn of his mother and daughter, along with some other sketches done by other artists of all three of them.

Aria had loved taking family portraits. Desmond was glad she'd done so many as those pictures were the only things left in the image of her.

His daughter was crying over the book, careful to have her tears fall away from the fragile memories. "I miss her so much," she said.

Desmond wrapped an arm around her, his aged and dulled fur contrasting with her vibrant orange fluff, and he hugged her gently. "I know, dear. I miss her too."

She sniffled. "Why did she have to go?"

"Life deals everyone a bad hand sometimes. Fortune can be flipped for worse." He squeezed her with more affection. "But remember that she can also turn bad into good."

Lera kept on sniffling and said nothing. She flipped over some more pages until she'd gotten to more recent sketches of her and her boyfriend.

When she saw the pencils her father had drawn of them together, she couldn't hold back anymore. She sobbed into her father's chest, flooding his tunic and matting his fur with tears.

Desmond stayed with her, comforting her until night had fallen.

When Lera had finally fallen into sleep's sweet embrace, Desmond left her and readied for bed himself.

His steps were weak and muddled, his mind strapped with terrible sorrow. He would always be there for his daughter as long as he drew breath, but there was nobody there for himself when he was drowning in his own dark emotions.

There used to be one, but she had been gone for so long now.

He didn't know why, but he never brought himself to obey her final wish. On her deathbed, she had blessed him and begged him to do one thing for himself, but he couldn't do it.

"Never be alone," he remembered her say.

She didn't want him to live the rest of his life without another person to sleep next to, another person to comfort him when the darkness gathered all around his life. She'd even promised to wait in heaven for him, and his second mate, and they could all be one happy family when they were reunited.

He knew she meant it well. Hell, she was probably looking down at him right now and was trying to scream at him to let himself feel love again. But it was impossible for him. He knew he wouldn't be betraying her if he did, but the right person simply never came.

The darkness had gathered around him already. It had fouled his mood and disposition. He was more anti-social than he had been in Adelhorn, and that was probably what turned most people away from him.

And so he staggered into his room like a drunk man, tossed off his shirt onto the wooden floor, and fell sloppily onto his bed before beginning to cry. Only the cold accompanied him.

Reason clashed with Desmond's emotions as he wept. He knew there would come another month where he would turn up short on Kaleb's demands, and then he would take his daughter again. The cycle would repeat over and over.

He could leave. He could run. He could tuck his tail and run all the way back to Adelhorn, where he still possessed a modest amount of funds that he had not spent on the move to Oma. It would not be enough to restart another life, however, and he would have to stay in Adelhorn and work. But he didn't want to stay in that city for any significant amount of time.

And then there were the townsfolk. They were family to him, and he'd feel like he'd be betraying them if he fled. Kaleb might even punish them for letting him leave, and he could never bear such a burden on his conscience.

He was deep in the darkness now, and his crying did nothing to alleviate the cold.

He didn't notice when someone pulled him out.

Heat spread across his upper back, and he nearly sprang up from the bed in surprise.

A calm, deep, and soothing voice held him in place.

"Are you alright?"

Desmond blinked his tears away and saw the worried face of Vascryxes. That handsome, attractively earth-toned face was deep into his personal space, but he didn't care.

He only knew that he wanted more of that warmth.

He needed it.

He mirrored the dragon's arm and wrapped it behind his bare back, crossing over the smoothness where his wing roots should've been.

And then he let his emotions run. He pushed his body forward into the dragon and let his body banish the cold, and his sobs finally granted him some form of relief.

"No," the fox said, "I'm not alright."

Reason was screaming at the back of his head. Reason told him that he was acting insane, and that he would drive the dragon away with his unwelcome, intimate touch.

Reason was wrong. Surprisingly, the dragon's other arm wrapped around him, and they were latched into a fully mutual embrace.

"Don't cry," the dragon said softly. He started sniffling as if the fox's tears were transmitting a disease which was making him start. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," Desmond said. "I accepted my wife's death. The hurt is still there, but it's everything that's amplifying the pain again."

The dragon's scaly hand brushed through the scruff of his neck. "I swear to you, Desmond, I swear to you I'll fix everything. I can't bring your wife back, but I'll fix everything else."

The fox squeezed his arms as a gesture of gratitude. Gods, he couldn't believe how such a strong dragon had just wandered into his life and cared. _He actually _cared about his life, and he was willing to help him without any significant reward.

Desmond found himself caring about the dragon too. A few seconds later, he felt a drop of wetness dribble onto his shoulder. It hadn't come from him, and then he realized that Vas was crying too. "Why are you crying?" he asked gently.

"I'm sorry," the dragon said, his voice also strained. "They say laughing is contagious. So is the opposite."

The fox could tell from his tone that he wasn't being entirely truthful. "Why else?" he asked.

Vas took a breath and said, "It's just been a long time since anyone's held me like this. Trade a secret for a secret?"

"What?"

"I'll tell you a secret for one of yours."

Desmond had already resolved to tell him about what Kaleb had done to his daughter's boyfriend, so he nodded to hear the dragon's secret.

Vas felt the way the fox's fur brushed upon his shoulders and understood. "That tiger I had told you about, my friend in the Silver Hand. He was the last one to ever touch me like this."

Comprehension gathered in the fox's mind. "You mean-"

"Aye. We were mated."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. He died doing what we both wanted to do. He died fighting evil. I might too, you know."

The dragon's tone in his last sentence was not lost on Desmond. "You won't die to him."

The silence was deadening, broken only by sniffs and heavy breaths. The dragon choked, and then he said, "There are no guarantees in life, sadly. We're both nearly the same age. We've been around the block a few times. We both know this."

The fox redoubled his grip on his new friend and let out another burst of tears. "I don't," he stammered out, "I don't want to bury you. I don't want to see your corpse end up like, ah..."

The fox cried out some more.

Vas waited until he was able to breath somewhat normally again. "Like who?" he asked.

"Like Neil."

"Neil?"

"He was a fox, adopted by the Ruangos, a pair of older hyenas who never had their own children and who lived across the town before I had even moved here. Naturally, being the only young male fox in town, my daughter fell in love with him."

"What happened to him?"

"He was the first and only one who ever openly defied Kaleb."

"That didn't turn out well, I take it?"

There was another terrible silence while Desmond drew in the strength he needed to wade through the memories.

"Gods," Desmond said, "it was horrible what they did to him. They impaled him, all the way through, on a spear and stuck his body in the middle of the town. Nobody dared to go near him. His corpse stayed there for days, and the rot started to stink everywhere. Carrion feasted on him, and I had to do it. I fetched him up and buried him proper."

The fox nearly choked but managed to continue. "They had plucked his eyes out because they were missing. He'd been raped too, judging from all the crusty dried semen that was on his fur. Some had even dried out on the pole, visible where the blood wasn't. They wanted to teach all of us a lesson. It worked. I never forgot."

Vas took in the information, processed it, and knew what justice demanded. "No prison," he said. "He will die. Life or not, I guarantee this to you."

"You just said you couldn't."

"This is one thing I can. I'm a dragon. When I die, I can choose one other to die with me. It is the greatest power of our race, though few know it outside of my people."

"That's why the dragons' lands have never been attacked, I take it?"

Vas nodded. "Mutually assured destruction. Guaranteed."

Desmond didn't want the dragon to die for him. He was too kind a soul to even offer such retribution, and he swore he was feeling a definite attraction to him.

He hadn't felt such a bond since he'd been with Aria.

Her voice echoed through his head again. "Never be alone."

But he couldn't fall in love and have it slip away again. Yet, he didn't want to be alone either, especially on this night.

Just one night, Desmond thought. He could make up his mind later. "Please," the fox whimpered, "you're doing so much for me already. But please, could you be here, right here in my bed? Could you sleep with me? Nothing more. I don't want to be alone this night."

"Of course," the dragon said.

For the first night in many months, Desmond felt safe. He soon entered a peaceful sleep, the warmth of the powerful dragon's body assuring him that he was protected and that someone was there for him.

Vascryxes smiled before falling asleep with the fox next to his sheltering mass. Perhaps, he thought, after nearly twenty years he'd finally found what he was looking for.

---

Vascryxes woke up to the sweet smell of whatever fragrance the fox used on his fur. It was a swirl of scents, a mixture of several fruits, and overall quite pleasant. It was actually rather amazing that the scent had remained there since he had first walked into the inn and met him.

The dragon's eyes opened to the view of the back of Desmond's neck. He was still sound asleep, and his light snoring made him nothing short of adorable.

The mercenary had decided. He wanted him.

He wanted him the same way he had wanted his mate so long ago. He wanted to shelter him from his pain, and he wanted to finally finish his long search.

But he didn't know if the fox felt the same way about him.

He couldn't rely on his observations from last night. Desmond had been in emotional distress, and he didn't know if when he would awake that he'd think the dragon was trying to take advantage of him and his situation.

The fox had a wife, just as he had his tiger. They had both been gone for a very long time, but he didn't know if Desmond felt the same way as he did just because their situations were similar.

The stiffness between the dragon's legs begged him to ask.

His mind countered. Not yet.

The moment did not come during the day, nor the next day. It wouldn't happen until his business was successful.

But in the meantime, Desmond and Vas talked. They talked about their lives, their favorite meals and entertainment, their trials and tribulations, their families, and everything they loved on this dear world of theirs.

The days passed. They slept together every night since the first, and from the second onwards they both had difficulty hiding the bulges that appeared in their sleeping shorts every morning.

Neither of them could make the first move. Not yet.

Then the harvester came at the end of the week.

Desmond spent all his bravery confronting him. The coyote snarled at him before he left. "You're a dead man. Your daughter is ours."

Vascryxes prepared. He would try his hardest not to die, but he knew he could not assure his continual living. He still would try his hardest, not for his client's sake this time, but for his friend's sake. For Desmond's sake.

The small town consisted of eight buildings arranged in an oval. One road led in from the north, passing straight through the major axis of the oval, and went out south. The wolf always came in from the north, Desmond had said, so Vas took his position facing the road.

They would not pass him while he lived.

He stood fully clad in all his unpolished armor, a weary knight ready to weather one more storm.

Desmond had told the town of his plan, and some had thought him to be insane. Most prayed for the dragon's success, but none dared help him; if he were to fail, the town could plead ignorance. They had wanted to assist in any way possible, but neither the dragon nor his innkeeper wanted them to become involved. Desmond would rather face his punishment for defying the wolf himself than drag the whole town with him.

Vas's mind swam while he stood in the middle of the town and waited. He tried to think of strategy, but all he could think of was what he could've done if he had more power at his disposal.

The inscriptions on his armor hadn't been recharged in a long while. They still held a moderate charge since he hadn't faced much combat, but there had been no decent enchanters once he had crossed too far away from civilization. It was very likely that he'd have to blow out all their energy by the end of his next confrontation.

The spells weaved onto his hide were not going to help in a battle, and he had not enough magical energy to craft any traps similar to the ones he had used against the Silver Hand's leaders.

It was going to be a relatively direct fight, one admittedly powerful and experienced mercenary against several. His odds were dependant on how skilled his opponents would be, and he had no way to guess that until he saw them.

An hour passed. He saw five figures on the road approach.

They entered the town. Kaleb walked at the front of the group, his black fur menacing and alluring at the same time. Two coyotes stood next to him, and a bear and a cheetah closed the guard.

They were geared as he had expected. Common bandits, except for Kaleb. His leather armor was new, not even a shade of fading on the brown, and he kept a pair of daggers sheathed on his...dragon scale belt.

Vas's eyes narrowed when he saw the pattern on the belt. It was densely packed, so he definitely hadn't robbed the scales from the grave of an old dragon.

If he was able to kill another dragon in combat, then he would definitely pose a danger. Vas gripped the handle of his sword and pulled it out of its back sheath. The rubies in the wing guards shone with stored energy as they sensed imminent usage.

The others would be easy to handle, he thought. The cheetah carried a rickety bow, oddly enough, which meant his speed wouldn't pose an issue. The bear bore an axe the size of a bloody piano, but that meant he would have no agility at all. The coyotes were balanced, both wielding spears, but they wore no armor and were exposed.

The wolf stopped, his entourage mimicking him, when he was within earshot of the dragon.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kaleb asked.

"You cannot pass," Vas said. "The innkeeper is under my protection, as is this town."

The wolf seemed to ponder this unusual development for a moment, his paws rubbing against his dark chin. "Funny," he said. "The town's been holding back on me. Whatever they're paying you, merc, I can double that if you join my team."

"I'm not being paid with coin," Vas said. "And I doubt you can pay me with honor."

The wolf sighed. "Another idiot dragon. Kill him."

Vas knew what was coming first. While the cheetah didn't use his swiftness for melee strikes, he did use it to draw his bow faster than any marksman he'd ever seen. But the mechanical action of firing the bow still required physics, and all the dragon had to do was lift an arm and speak a word of will.

"Sonaro."

The magic runes on the left sleeve of his armor shone delightfully as they were called upon, and the very air seemed to distort within the boundaries of a cone projected from his palm. The cheetah fired a shot, but the arrow splintered and disintegrated before it had even flown halfway towards the mighty mercenary.

The distortions extended into the cheetah shortly after, and he dropped onto the floor clenching his ears shut as they bled. The bow fell, snapped, and promptly dispersed into splinters of useless wood.

The coyotes bounded towards him, but he was already on the move. The inscriptions on his left arm no longer glowed, their power expended, but he still had plenty more in the rest of his armor.

With his sword drawn, he dodged and blocked several jabs from the two coyotes, but he was losing ground. With his heavy armor on, he was considerably slower than them, but the metal had already guarded him from several glancing blows that might otherwise have been fatal.

A new variable was also approaching. The bear was in a full on charge, his mighty axe ready to cleave open his metal protection, but the dragon figured a better plan than dodging him.

He pretended to have not noticed the bear and kept his sword blocking all the coyotes' attacks. They, in turn, became more focused on piercing his defenses. It was precisely what he wanted to happen, and he waited until the very last second, when the bear was mere inches away from rampaging into him, to trigger the spell stored in his legs.

"Ky."

Vas disappeared. The coyotes were stunned, and they didn't realize that in the absence of the dragon's body, their ally was going to ram right into them.

The bear had too much mass and inertia to alter his path within that single second he had, and the coyotes reflexively tilted the tips of their spears at him.

They impaled him. It wasn't enough to stop the inertia. The bear's body crashed onto them, crushing them as he screamed and roared, trying to defy the pain his allies had stabbed into him. After the three finished their tumble, the coyotes were smashed onto the ground, and the bear laid on top of them, his life fading away as one of the spears skewered his heart.

The coyotes were barely better off. The force of the impact from the heavy bear had crushed their bones, and even Kaleb heard their snaps from where he stood away from the battle.

The wolf snarled when the dragon reappeared from the sky. He saw the runes in his leg armor flash twice when he landed, and then they died out, empty of energy.

Vas was happy to see how well his trick had worked. He'd used the magic stored in his leg pieces to leap far into the sky in nearly an instant, and the last of the energy was used to keep him from being crushed into jelly when he had landed.

Kaleb clapped his paws, startling the dragon. "You broke my toys," he said. "Congratulations. Now I'll break you."

Vas thought the wolf was strangely overconfident, especially after he'd just witnessed how easily he had dispatched with his lackeys. That either meant he was incredibly stupid or he had something up his sleeve. The dragon took no chances and shifted his sword to his left arm while he raised his right arm, preparing to unleash a burst of magic from the last reservoir he had on his armor.

The wolf whipped out one of his daggers, a pretty little golden thing, and then he dashed forward. Ten steps in, he threw the dagger at his opponent.

"Ripelum."

A blast of force shot out from Vas's palm and slammed the dagger to the side. The wave flew on, pummeling into Kaleb, but the wolf had braced himself with his arm and persevered against the wall of invisible force, although he had been flung back a few inches.

Vas hadn't made the blast particularly powerful, only strong enough to slap the dagger to the side. Still, his enchantment had only one more use left, and then he'd be out of magic.

The wolf dashed at him again, his second dagger, a polished silver blade, at the ready.

Vas hadn't expected him to toss his only other weapon, but that he did.

"Ripelum."

Again, the dagger was knocked to the side.

The wolf didn't stop sprinting this time, expecting and wading through the blast of raw force. Vas readied his sword, but he needn't have bothered.

Kaleb stopped just outside the reach of his ruby-embedded sword, and then he tossed something at him. A bunch of somethings, round and small. The wolf skipped backwards as he spun his sword to deflect the little spheres, and then he began to sprint backwards. He bounced back until he could retrieve his golden dagger, and then he grinned at the dragon.

"Well?" Vas asked. "You going to take your blade and run?"

"Probably. In about three more seconds."

"Three seconds? Don't come back."

There was something wrong with the wolf's devilish grin, and Vas realized one second too late. The little spheres hissed loudly, and in another second his vision was completely blanketed in a dirty brownish mist.

"I'll be back for the fox," Kaleb's voice said through the mist. "I think I'll make some boots out of your hide, too."

Vas had already begun moving to avoid staying where he had been when the mist erupted. "What are you talking about? I may not be able to see you, but you can't stab me in the dark either."

The wolf's voice was more distant when it responded. "You think this is my first tango with a superior adversary? It's not. I've kept you talking long enough. You've breathed enough poison to kill a dragon by now. I'm going to have a drink. Goodbye."

Vas's eyes widened as the impact of those words hit him. The mist was a poison, but that also meant the wolf had been willing to kill his allies--the ones which still drew breath anyway.

He could use his death spell now. But he didn't want to leave Desmond alone. Not now, not after he'd gotten so close to him.

There was still another way out. He just had to remember how the fox had slid his arm across his back that first night.

The poison was starting to affect him, and his chest began to burn. He reached behind his armor and struggled to find the emergency inscription, the one that would instantly break him out of his armor when touched and the password spoken. He found it and labored to speak the password.

"Lastonin."

The armor split in half and fell, clunking on the ground as it clattered onto the dirt road.

His throat shoved out one more word. "Revian."

Vas's great leathery wings flashed back into existence, and he flapped them as strong as he could. His lungs didn't want to help, and his muscles burned as their oxygen supply was choked off. Nevertheless, he was able to clear the mist after several wing beats.

His eyes could only see through tunnels, but he was sure the wolf had fled for the moment. Stupid prideful beast, Vas knew his type. Have a drink to celebrate his victory. He'd underestimated this dragon, just as he'd underestimated his cleverness with the poison trap. The inscriptions on his body began to glow, but not before the pain overwhelmed him, causing him to collapse.

When Vas opened his eyes again, he felt heat over his chest, a sweet warmth, but inside it was still a dull ache from the poison. He rolled his eyes down, his head refusing to respond to his request to tilt or turn, and he saw Desmond crying silently over his heart.

"Hey," the dragon tried to say, his voice barely a whisper.

Desmond's eyes shot open. "Vas!"

"I'm okay. The spells on my body will heal me. They need a long time though. How long have I been out?"

Relief and color washed back into Desmond's face. "Ten minutes."

"You're a canine," Vas said, straining against the chest pains. "Your nose. Track him. Take my sword. You have to--" He coughed, then continued, "Kill him."

Desmond glanced at the beautiful blade that had been set on the table by the dragon's sickbed. He'd always wanted to do it, he'd always thought of killing the son of a bitch, but when it came down to it, he didn't really believe that he could end the life of another living, sentient being. "I--I can't. I don't think I could do it."

Vas coughed again. "That makes you a better person than I am. But he'll return. You have to take him by surprise, or he'll pull this trick again, and I won't be able to protect you. You're just trying to defend your family."

"But--"

"Desmond. I want to be a part of your family."

The fox yipped. "You do?"

"Yes. I felt like you were the one when I walked into your inn. The one thing, the one person I've been looking for. Now I'm sure. Will you accept me?"

Desmond's heart did a little dance. His feelings about the dragon had evidently been reciprocated the entire time. "How about a trade?"

The dragon would've laughed if he could. "What sort?"

"An answer for an answer."

"To what question?"

"Will you be mine, until the end of our lives?"

Vas tried to give him a wing up, but they remained draped uselessly over the edges of the bed. "Yes," he whispered instead, "and beyond if your wife will allow it."

Desmond smiled knowing she would. "Then yes, I accept you into my family."

The edge of Vas's mouth curled up, and he would've hugged the fox if he could move. "We'll celebrate. But first you have to take my sword."

Desmond nodded. "I'll do it. To protect my family."

The dragon's throat rumbled in approval. "Give me your sword arm."

"What?"

"Put your sword hand into my right hand. It won't hurt, I promise."

The fox did so, and then the dragon's thumb claw began to glow with the same gentle blue that the healing inscriptions on his body emitted. It started drawing things onto his paw, similar to the runes but nowhere near as complicated. They were just a few squiggly shapes as far as Desmond could tell.

When the dragon finished etching the minor enchantment, he let out a deep breath and settled the tense muscles in his neck down so he could rest easy onto his delightfully soft pillow, his head sideways so that his horns wouldn't break the bed. "Sword. Out of phase. Take him by surprise this time. Speak names of your three most cherished loved ones to re-phase. Go."

With that, the dragon returned to his restorative slumber. Desmond's face scrunched with determination. He picked up his...mate's sword and it disappeared just as he'd said it would.

The blue runes on his paw became invisible as well, and so he set out to find Kaleb and finish him once and for all.

The townsfolk had helped him move Vas into his inn, but now they were back outside wondering what they should do with the bodies of Kaleb's dead servants. He looked at his paw and tensed up. If it weren't for the dragon's combat magic, he'd be just as dead as the rest of them right now. It was a terribly sobering thought, so he set off about sniffing for Kaleb's scent immediately.

The trail was faint, and his nose wasn't as good at tracking as it was before when he was younger. He was about to give up and prepare to defend his town, but then he saw Lera run up to him.

"Papa!" she shouted, "What are you doing?"

Desmond hugged his daughter and spoke as if he was apologizing. "Vas told me to track him down. I have to kill him now before he comes back ready for a fight."

"Can you do it?"

"I--I think I can bring myself to swing the killing blow. If it becomes necessary. But right now I can't even catch his scent."

"I can smell him," she said. "I got the purest imprint of his filthy scent. All the disgusting musk from you-know-what. I'll lead you to him."

"Lera," Desmond said, "be careful. He's alone, but he's still dangerous. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, papa. I want this nightmare to end, one way or another."

_Or another. _ Desmond knew what she meant. She'd rather die trying to end the wolf's terror than let the nightmare continue. He didn't bother trying to convince her to stay safe in the town. "Lead the way," he said, "but cautiously."

His beautiful daughter nodded, sniffed the air, and ran towards the northeast into the woods, tracking her rapist.

As Desmond sprinted after her, he couldn't help but feel somewhat uplifted. Lera was showing a strength he hadn't seen since her mother fell ill, a strength he thought she had lost forever.

He realized what he had been doing. He'd been fleeing from his feelings since Aria left, running away from anything that reminded him of her. He'd been rendered heavy and passive from a broken heart, and the effect was tied to his daughter. Then Vas appeared out of nowhere, and his heart had finally started to mend, allowing himself to love again.

He was confident now, more than he'd ever been. There was no other way he could've set himself upon this search to hunt the person that had haunted him for so many months. That restoration of his willpower had transferred rather quickly to his daughter, who must've noticed how he had interacted so intimately with Vas over the past couple of days.

He was sure of it now. If the opportunity came, he'd end Kaleb's life.

He'd never done such a thing before. He never wanted to become a warrior. But it was necessary now, or he'd risk more than his life when the wolf came back with more muscle.

Vas was teaching him a different dance, one harsher than Aria's, but it would be engraved forever in his mind all the same.

Desmond kept on Lera's tail, a difficult task considering her youth, though he managed with only a bit of lag. She was several feet ahead when she jumped through a thick brush.

It was a mistake even he hadn't guessed.

Lera's screams pounded on his ears as he stopped before the thicket, the greenery blocking his view of what had happened to her.

"Shut up," Desmond heard a familiar voice say, "shut up or I'll slit your throat, pretty little bitch."

He heard her let out a hoarse yell, and then there was a lot of feet shuffling.

"What are you doing here, bitch?" Kaleb asked.

Desmond's muscles nearly seized, and he wanted to jump out now and attack, but there was no knowing whether Lera was in the way or not.

"T--the town wanted me to make sure you were gone," she said.

"Oh? Was this their plan then? Did they pool together whatever coin they had stashed to hire someone to drive me away?"

She said nothing.

There was a loud slap, and Desmond heard Lera whimper. "No," she said bravely, "it was my father's idea. He did it behind the town's back."

Another slap. "Right, your father's a real son of a bitch, you know that? I'll have his head on a pike. I'll have him set right in front of us while I fuck you like the bitch you are everyday, until you die of starvation. Would you like that?"

Lera stayed quiet, but Desmond was sure she was starting to cry.

He knew what was going to happen next, and he mentally apologized to his daughter for making her wait so long.

The wolf's belt jingled. Now.

"I'll kill you!" Desmond shouted as he jumped through the bush.

As he'd expected, the fucking wolf was halfway done taking off his clothes, preparing to take his daughter again.

He just hadn't expected the wolf to be so damned close to the edge of the bush.

He slammed headfirst right into his stomach, dealing both the wolf and himself a painful blow. They separated mid-air and tumbled a few feet apart.

Kaleb had the wind knocked out of him, but that was nowhere near as debilitating as the dizziness Desmond's head-knocking had rewarded him with. The wolf naturally recovered first while the poor innkeeper was still scrambling to sit up straight.

"Alright," the wolf said as he loomed closer to his prey, "I'm done with games. Enjoy your last breaths."

Desmond recovered enough to notice his daughter kneeling weakly by the brush, her fur standing straight and her face trembling with absolute terror. Kaleb ran at him, his sharp predator's claws ready to tear him apart.

Three names.

"Aria! Lera!"

The wolf leapt at him as his feelings guided him to the last name.

"Vas!"

The dragon's sword re-phased into existence in his hand exactly like Vas had said it would, and his hand was pointed at the flying mass of black fur headed towards him.

Kaleb hadn't even realized he was dying until he finished landing on the blade, impaling himself through the chest. He tried to order his claws to tear the fox's guts open, but they didn't respond.

Desmond held the blade there, his breathing faster than the night he'd first danced with Aria. The wolf grunted, and Desmond saw his eyes grow dim as his dragon's ornate sword delivered justice.

Kaleb coughed and sputtered out a mouthful of blood, staining Desmond's tunic, before finally slumping entirely onto the fox he had never expected to have been capable of even standing up to him.

Desmond stood now, and he stood strong.

He turned over a few seconds later, letting gravity pull the wolf's corpse off Vas's blade. The rubies on the crossguard hummed with a gentle glow and removed the blood smears off the sword.

When he stood, he found peace again, both with his future and his past. Lera was safe, he was safe, and Vas was safe. His family was safe.

He stabbed the sword into the ground and stumbled over to his daughter, his head still aching quite a bit. He helped her out and hugged her lovingly, and he knew he was not a murderer in the eyes of himself or of any just god--he was a man who had saved his daughter, his town, and someone he loved.

He took back the sword and touched the handle, which was as beautiful as its owner, with utmost appreciation. "Thank you, Vas." He looked up into the afternoon sky, and it seemed brighter than it had been for many, many months. "And thank you, Aria."

Lera's paw massaged his shoulder. "Is he moving on to the next town now?"

He smiled and had to work hard to hold back his tears of happiness. "No, dear. He's staying with us. He's going to be part of our family now."

Desmond may have held back his tears, but his daughter made up for the both of them. "Papa, I'm so glad."

"Me too. Let's go home."

They walked away in silence, the good kind, and never looked back.

---

Desmond had slept on the floor in Vas's room until he recovered from the poison nearly two days later. The first few hours after his return had been intensely worrying as the dragon wouldn't return to consciousness despite his nudging to tell him the good news, but the brightly glowing runes on his body had assured him he was alive and healing.

The blue inscriptions had a lovely effect at night, bearing an ethereal shine that was both wondrous and enchanting, so much so that Lera had compared the dragon to an angel. The day after Kaleb had been slain, Vas regained the ability to eat and drink several times, but his voice was still weak, leaving very little strength for conversation.

But the dawn of one more day brought Desmond a very healthy dragon to speak with. In fact, it wasn't long until after he'd heard the morning birds begin to sing through the window that Vas woke up, and the glowing runes on his scales faded.

The dragon drew in a long breath, noted that his lovely fox was alive and well, and smiled. "How long have I been out?"

Desmond's eyes gleamed with joy. "Two days. Are you alright now?"

Vas nodded. "I'll be fine, but damn. That was Witch Wither he used on me. Didn't expect that. Very deadly, very illegal. Then again, so is operating a crime ring."

The fox's paws settled over the dragon's smooth belly. "These spells saved your life, huh?"

"Yeah. My armor's out of juice, but don't worry, these are tied to my life force. They'll recharge in a few days and I won't feel so naked by then."

"Aww," the fox said playfully. His paws moved up to his chest, tracing the drawings on his body, and then up to his neck where they ended. He paused to think about the magic in those spells, but he moved on promptly enough, moving his paw under the dragon's chin, making him shudder. "I kind of wanted you to be naked."

"Oh..." Vas moaned. Desmond's head was leaning awfully close to his face, and he broke the final little gap, the last little reluctance, between them.

The dragon eagerly locked his muzzle around his fox's fuzzy lips, and they let the tension that had built between them over the past several days finally release, letting both of them know and cement their feelings towards each other.

Vas released the kiss first. "You've no idea how much I've wanted that. I wanted to that first night you wanted me to sleep next to you, you know, but I thought I'd be overstepping boundaries."

Desmond's eyes were still glazed with joy, and he grunted. "I wasn't sure, at first. I mean, I thought you were handsome when you first came through the door, but I hadn't known what a kind soul you were. You comforted me when you could've just stayed in your room. He's dead, Vas. Thanks to you. The whole town wants to thank you. They didn't even believe me when I said you wanted no payment. That's how good you are, and I'm honored to have you as my mate."

The dragon's face beamed with happiness, and he gave the most proper response he could think of--another wet, loving kiss.

Desmond let his other paw drift downward while his mate's ludicrously flexible tongue did all manner of things with his mouth's flesh. It went lower and lower until it felt the cloth of his pants.

The fox let his mouth unwind with a loud smooch, and then he looked down at where his paw had wandered down to. "Would you like to--I mean are you well enough yet and--"

"I am," the dragon replied, "and I do." He sat up onto the edge of the bed and let out a small chuckle as he flexed his dazzling wings. "But I think this bed's too small, especially now that my wings are out."

Desmond squeamishly backed off and chuckled with his partner. "Yeah, sorry, guest rooms are only twin-sized." He gestured at him to follow and said, "You already know mine is a queen's, come on."

When they returned to Desmond's room, the dragon slowly took off the fox's tunic, hugged him from behind and gave his neck a gentle lick.

"Would you like to top or bottom?" Vas asked.

Desmond couldn't help but be reminded of how kind the dragon was. Before he'd fallen in love with Aria, the men he'd experimented with always tossed him onto the bed, assuming he was a typical fox.

Vas didn't assume, and Desmond was happy he had the option. But the fox was more familiar with bottoming with other men, and he wanted his mate to enjoy himself first.

"I'll bottom," Desmond said. "But not always."

"No stereotypes," Vas said approvingly, "and I've always wanted to be, ah, knotted."

The fox slipped a claw into his mate's pants and pulled him back with him until his ankles bumped against the edge of the bed. He slipped another claw in and began dragging the dragon's pants down while he sat onto his bed.

The inscriptions on the dragon weren't glowing anymore, but they were still dark and marvelous lines set against the lighter reddish earth-tones of his scales. Desmond's eyes sparkled as the lines converging around his waist were revealed, and he tugged harder until at last the cloth fell to the floor, showing how the drawings rebounded around his crotch and continued twining down his rippling legs.

Desmond actually found himself more fascinated and entranced by the mystical etchings than the revelation of the dragon's private parts. Nevertheless, he did return to them after his eyes finished tracing all the little lines and symbols.

He yipped when he realized the dragon had a pair of testicles, thick heavy ones at that, and utterly different from the one lizard he'd fooled around with when he was young.

Vas heard his surprise and asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, not at all. I just didn't expect you to, umm, have balls."

The dragon let out a hearty laugh, but he kept it from sounding too condescending. He crouched down so the fox wouldn't have to stare up. "Desmond, don't you remember when you slept next to me my first night here?"

"Umm, yes?"

"Tell me what you felt."

"Well, I felt safe. Sheltered. I was glad that someone finally cared."

Vas leaned his head forward and slid his muzzle passionately along the fox's, his soft scales brushing along fuzzy fur. "Mm, but what did you feel physically?"

"Umm..." Desmond said, trying to remember while the dragon's snout distracted him. "Oh! It was warm."

Vas flicked out his tongue to taste his mate's ear, and then he retreated from nuzzling his face. "Ding! Yep. Did my face feel warm too? And my kisses?"

"Yes. I get it, you're not like a lizard. That's why you have hair."

"That's exactly right. I may have scales like most reptiles, but dragons are actually warm-blooded." He tried to keep himself from snickering when he added, "Hence, my balls are outside."

Desmond grinned. "The more to play with."

"Oh, you'll enjoy them bouncing off your tail. But first, let me start you off, yeah?"

"Okay."

Vas dropped from his crouch into a kneel, and he reached into the fox's pants. This time, it was his turn to peel off his lover's coverings, and he did so with just as much delicacy and expediency as the fox had done with him.

Slowly and carefully, Desmond's worn out pants were removed. He saw the dragon smile devilishly as his sheath was revealed, and then his tongue did a little flick when his comparatively small balls were unveiled.

Desmond was usually not ashamed of his size since the only people he'd had sex with was with men who only wanted to fuck him, or with Aria, who couldn't have cared less. But now, with the dragon's hefty balls still ingrained in his memory, he felt a little abashed; Vas wanted him to tie with him the next time they had sex, and he couldn't help but feel like he'd be inadequate for the job. He hadn't seen the dragon's cock yet, but if it were proportionate to his balls, it would easily tower over the size of his canine flesh.

But alas, his worries were washed away when he felt the dragon's snout nuzzling against his privates, his nostrils soaking in his musk. Blood stirred in his loins, and the tip of his red member began to escape from its container, his sheath swelling in size as it emerged like a snake from hiding.

The dragon kept on sniffing him up, and he started using his long tongue to lap at his fluffy balls. Vas loved how soft they were, and the pubic fur covering them reminded him of how he'd suckled on his old tiger friend's balls so many years ago.

He thought that Desmond's pair was so much more adorable, however. They were smaller than the tiger's had been, but they were so well proportioned with Desmond's body, and it only added to the overall cutesy image the fox projected. Vas was growing hotter as he basked in his mate's pheromones, and his cock began slipping out of his slit.

When half of Desmond's red canine length emerged, the dragon began suckling on it like candy, trying to coax all of it to come out. He succeeded in short order, and then he backed off to look at his mate in all his naked glory.

Orange fur coated most of his body, with white covering his belly and other odd spots. It had appeared very dull when he first met the fox, but a lot of the coloring had come back after, no doubt because a great stress had been lifted from him. He was of average height, and his build was thin. Managing an inn didn't lend itself well to muscle-building but the fox had almost no belly fat. He was around forty years old, nearly the same as the dragon, but he looked like he was ten years younger, no doubt through the miracle work of fox genetics. Vas, on the other hand, looked younger than he was simply because of how buff and muscular he was.

Desmond noticed the dragon staring. "Umm, I'm sorry I'm not very big down there. I hope I can still knot you enjoyably."

"You're fine. I'm still a...virgin back there anyway."

"Oh..."

"Don't stress. You're incredibly cute, you know."

"Umm, thanks. You're really, ah, hot. All those muscles..."

"Thanks. You can touch them if you want."

Desmond did. He lavished attention onto those rippling dark muscles of his, and he flexed each one that the fox's paw went over. The dragon was well built, but much of it was lean bulk, much like a swimmer's build, but also layered with a bit of pure workout muscle. When he was done with the arms, he asked him to stand up, and then they did the same duet with the dragon's legs. When he finished feeling up those powerful legs, he traced his paw back up and went over his tough belly scales before reaching behind to touch the dragon's exotic wings, feeling the muscles that allowed his mate to fly and probing the texture of the soft leather that draped under those special muscles.

By the time the fox was done being ravished by those gorgeous mounds of flesh, Vas's cock was all out and just as hard as his mate's. Desmond's paws went over it with even more reverence than they had with his muscles, and his eyes glazed with lust.

The dragon's black cock was several inches longer than his own, much thicker, and it was adorned with texture that he was sure would drive him wild. His paws kneaded into the four ridges on the top, drawing several moans from his mate above, and he couldn't wait to have them dig into his flesh. On the lower side, four little fleshy nubs balanced the texture on the two sides. He gave the dragon's exotic shaft one whole tug, feeling the meaty flesh slide along his pads until it slipped through his spearheaded tip.

Vas panted, not used to having someone else touch him there for many, many years. Still, he remembered how difficult it was to penetrate, especially with an endowment like his, so he wanted to make it easier. "Lick it," he said. "You need to lube it up, or it'll hurt a lot." He was blessed with a rather productive gland and made plenty of pre to lube, but it wouldn't start flowing until he was at least partly in.

The fox kneeled and obeyed his command, remembering full well how hard sex with another man could be without enough lubrication. He definitely had to slather all over it too, considering its size. He gave the thick shaft all he had, goopy saliva flowing all over it, and he took the opportunity to bathe in the dragon's heavy male scent, the musk like an aphrodisiac to the fox's sensitive black nose.

He tongued the dragon's meaty balls too, taking pleasure in how different they felt from his own. They were protected by a softly scaled scrotum, and he couldn't wait for their churning contents to be spilled into him.

Once Desmond was finished having his taste buds satisfied by his knight's delicious meat, he drew back and settled onto the bed, his white flat stomach waiting for someone to rest on top while he raised his furry legs.

Vas's body fell on top of him shortly after, his long tail wagging and his breath full of need and lust. "Are you ready?"

The fox let out a gentle purr. "As ready as I'll ever be. Be gentle."

"I will. Let me know if it hurts too much, okay?"

"Okay."

Desmond's body involuntarily jerked in pleasure as the dragon began rubbing his body along his fur, his scale-armored pecs brushing back and forth over his erect nipples through his fur. Back and forth he pressed, but always lower until the dragon's head rested on one of his mate's shoulders.

Down below, Vas's cock slipped with his body, passing through his mate's stuff, where he ground into them a bit to make them feel their intimate parts touch, on its way down, until it finally settled near the base of his tail.

Vas wiggled his hips around until his tapered crown found the treasure he sought, and then he pushed gently in. Desmond was already clinging to the bed sheets when the dragon's tapered head plopped into his tight ring.

"Relax," Vas said. "I've only got the head in so far."

Desmond grunted. "It's so big...give me some time."

"However long you need, love."

Vas waited a full minute before he felt his fox relax, the tightness gripping his cock loosening but still firm. Desmond gave him a thumb up, so he continued pushing his hips down, slowly and caringly.

Each ridge and its parallel bump was needed another minute for the fox to adjust, but eventually Desmond was able to feel the dragon's low hanging balls make contact with the fluff of his tail.

Lower and lower, and at last the final ridge slid in.

And then contact. Scales pressed all around his opening, and his fur-covered belly was pressed gently with more dense scales. He could feel the dragon's cock throbbing within him, blood pumping fast with arousal, and mirrored by the heavy nuts that sat upon his tail.

His ass was sore, but having his mate in him was more than worth it.

"Are you okay?" Vas asked.

"Yeah," Desmond said with a groan. "Just go slow, alright?"

"Mm. Just tell me when you want me to go faster."

Vas pulled out all the way to his head, letting his mate savor each pair of ridges and bumps as they gripped and tugged at the flesh within him. He remembered how difficult it was with his tiger the first time too, but if the fox was like him then he'd be able to go much faster in just a few more cycles of this slow repetition. His draconic cock should've already started making its slippery pre, and it would just take a few more thrusts to have his insides fully coated with his abundantly made natural lube.

One push, one pull. Two. Three. Four. Faster. The fox's discomfort was quickly fading away, and Vas went faster.

Desmond's death grip on his bed sheets turned from one energized by pain to one invigorated by pleasure. He didn't know why his body had adjusted so quickly to the dragon's thick, textured shaft, but he was taking the long length like a champ after just ten or so humps.

In spite of his paws anchoring him to his bed sheets, his upper body began to squirm as the dragon steadily increased his speed. Those ridges collided with his special flesh, a place he had not stimulated since he'd played with Aria, and it was especially unique with the dragon's texture, the shaft so much different than any of the males he had before he had committed to his wife.

The dragon continued to rev his speed up to a moderate pace, and his cock had lubed the delectable ass it was plowing with more than enough pre to create a very audible and lewd squishing sound every time he slammed in and smashed his balls against the fox's incredibly soft tail.

Two minutes passed, and Vas had progressed to a speed that most would consider to be normal for a love-making session--not too fast to be a mere satisfaction for his animalistic need, but fast enough to be more than just a tease.

Desmond tried to wiggle his hips and hump back, remembering how that used to drive other males wild. Not that he wasn't either, but he wanted to make sure his generous warrior felt every bit as good as he did.

The sensation was too new, too unusual, too good, and he felt the pressure build quickly in his loins.

The fox started devoting an effort of will to draw back the pressure, but then he heard his dragon roar, signaling his finishing act.

It was sooner than he'd expected, but the warmth filling his insides was too good to care too much. Desmond could feel all those powerful muscles on his dragon tense and ripple as his orgasm rocked his body, his balls drawing up and down as they let their seed be fired out of his long, hard cock. He dumped out more cum than the fox could ever coax out of his own balls, and despite his lack of a knot his thickness kept it all inside him.

By the time Vas's body returned to normal, he still kept panting, the pleasure and afterglow overwhelming his mind. His muscles finally gave out and he let his body rest upon the fox's, letting their warmth spread between them. "Sorry," he said, "for finishing so fast. Gods, it's been so long, and you were just so, so good."

Desmond wrapped his arms around his neck, his paws feeling the wings that Vas had draped over their bodies before moving on to caress the soft patch of dark brown hair between his gleaming white horns. "You were perfect, don't worry. I'm so close, too, and I haven't even touched it yet."

"Oh gods," Vas said, still panting. Energy returned to his body, and he lifted himself off the fox. "I can't wait until later. I need you, gods I need you so much, tie with me now, please. I want you to finish in me, just like I did in you."

"Okay," Desmond said, his excitement evident in just that one single word.

Vas pulled his sensitive spent shaft out of his mate's ass, removing the plug that kept all his warm seed within his bowels. Even though the fox didn't move, a large load of cum squirted out as soon as the dragon's tapered head plopped free. It dribbled down through the fox's tail fur and stained the bed, but Desmond didn't mind.

"Sit up for me real quick?" Vas asked.

Desmond did so, making more of the dragon's seed leak out of his used ass, and watched the dragon roll over to the other side of his large bed. He stretched out his wings, taking the space that the lovely fox had been lying on, and invited him to take his virginity.

When Desmond got up and moved over to claim his gift, Vas got a glimpse of the fox's red hard length, the tip leaking a small trail of pre and obviously close to finishing, judging on the size of the knot.

"Umm," the fox said, "did you want to lick it first?"

"Just grab some of my cum and smear it over, both on my tail and on your sexy cock."

Desmond blushed when he heard him call his tool sexy, and he reached under his tail to collect a glob of the dragon's seed. He spread it over his canine shaft first, letting the dragon's love spunk open the way to showing his own brand of love, and then he rubbed another glob along his mate's entrance.

It was a funny thing, Desmond thought. The dragon's backside was rough and covered in scales just like most of him was, but there was one little spot where the scales parted and exposed his small fleshy opening. His body flushed with warmness as he kneaded his mate's seed all throughout his own tail base, letting the sticky cum return to its owner's body.

The fox couldn't resist gliding his paw down the dragon's long tail, the heavily scaled appendage just as lined with muscles as his arms. He savored the heavy curves of the muscles on that terribly sexy tail, both useful for balance and deadly. Vas could use it to coil around an enemy and crush him to death easily, Desmond thought, but it could've just as easily been used to coil around him and keep him in a warm embrace, his arms tight behind his back while his wings wrapped all around him...

His cock throbbed at him, demanding release. Desmond acquiesced, his daydream saved for a future reality.

The fox at last came up to his dragon, who had already lifted his legs and was waiting.

"Go easy," the dragon said.

"I'm really, really close," Desmond said. "I'll try to knot before I cum, but it'll hurt the first time."

"I know. I'm ready."

The fox didn't spend any time teasing his mate's backside and instead homed in directly to his puckered entrance. He found the oasis of flesh surrounded by scales and gave a gentle push. The tight lips of the dragon's well worked-out ass were adamantly unyielding, but the fox kept up the soft pressure until at last the virgin hole accepted his tapered canine tip.

Vas clenched involuntarily, the feeling of such an intrusion new to him. The fox's shape and size made it easier to slide the first half inch in, but then his claws started digging into the sheets just as Desmond had when their roles had been reversed.

With the aid of his mate's slick seed lubing their parts together, Desmond pushed another inch in. Vas started groaning in pain, his ass utterly unprepared for this, and he had a flash of regret--not for doing this with his new lover, but for the fact that he'd never let his old mate take him like this, never letting him feel the pleasure he had taken himself from the tiger's body, and only because he was afraid of how it might hurt. That regret had led him to desire this for a long time, to have another who loved him take his body and share what he'd felt when he took them under the tail.

"You okay?" Desmond asked, noticing his discomfort.

"It hurts," the dragon said with a grunt. "But don't stop."

"No, I'll wait until you're ready."

"Thank you."

A minute passed, and the dragon was still in distress, his muscles tense as pain radiated from his tail hole. He was glad the fox wasn't any larger, or it'd be unlikely that they'd be going anywhere today. Another minute passed, and Vas's face became more relaxed, but the fox was patient and was willing to wait, the vice-like hold of his partner's clamping walls keeping him satisfactorily close to his edge.

"Go," the dragon said after another minute.

Desmond pushed down again, sliding another inch in before his mate tensed up again. The difficulty in getting himself in made the fox more confident with his size, and he eagerly waited another two minutes before the dragon gave him the go ahead.

The dragon's ass reluctantly took another two and a half inches before it hit that rigid bump, the bulbous gland which he was now quite worried about, unsure whether or not he could take it in.

The fox's black nose tickled his partner's chin. "Are you sure you want me to go all the way in? I think I'll cum with just another thrust..."

Vas's face was scrunched up, but he wanted it. He wanted to have his mate fully in him, to have their bodies joined again. "Yes," he whimpered, "please."

"Okay. Try to relax more."

The fox gave a harder push, causing his partner to gasp more in pain than pleasure as his tight lips were spread open more than they'd ever been in his entire life, but still he kept his face reassuring, allowing the fox to keep trying.

Desmond tried to push his knot in slowly, letting the dragon adjust to the extra girth. While his tool was smaller than average, his bulbous knot made it just as wide as the thickest part of Vas's shaft, and he knew he had to be gentle.

Desmond steadily increased the pressure, garnering louder and louder gasps from his mate, and tried his best to push the widest part of his knot in. Despite the dragon's need to have him, he couldn't help but see him try to hide his pained expression. "Are you sure--"

Vas grabbed his arm, his grip tight and firm. "Yes, gods yes, tie me, Desmond, and don't you dare stop and ask again."

The fox mustered all the strength he dared to thrust with, and gave one more strong push.

His knot broke through. Vas roared in victory, knowing now that future insertion would be easy. Meanwhile, Desmond howled in pleasure, his bulbous canine gland finally back in a warm place after so many long years.

The pressure of that tight seal around his knot was too much, and he came as soon as it popped in.

Vas brushed the fox's fur all over his head as he collapsed on top of him, his poor mate overwhelmed by his release. He knew exactly how he was feeling. It had been far too long for either of them.

The dragon savored the new feeling of having warm cum gush into his insides, and he knew he'd remember this moment until the end of his life. There would be more, much more, every night they were both willing, and a genuine smile crawled onto his mouth.

He'd finally found his home.

By the time the fox's cock stopped surging with seed, the pain in his ass had mostly died down. He pleasingly scratched his claws gently behind his mate's ears, eliciting an adorable mewling sound from him.

"Was it good?" Desmond mumbled.

"That was wonderful," Vas said. "You're wonderful. I'm glad my years of traveling led me to you, Desmond."

"I'm glad you traveled into my inn," the fox replied. "I hope you'll stay forever."

"If you stay forever, I will. I love you."

It had been a long time since Desmond had used those words to anyone but his daughter, and he was beyond happy to be able to use them again to someone he could call his mate. "I love you too."

Vas furled his wings over them, making them feel safe while their bodies rested.

Somewhere up in the heavens, Aria smiled.

---

The celebration was nothing fancy, as to be expected, but it was the meaning that mattered most. Everyone in the town came out to deliver their gratitude to the mysterious dragon that had chosen to help them without expecting anything in return.

Lera had already gone and told the town that Vas would be staying with them, so everyone gave what they had to offer. There was little coin involved, but the farmers promised that there would not be a day where the dragon would starve. Because they would not have their bottles looted anymore, the farmer's also promised their first bottle of new wine to him once they finished restarting their brewing business.

At the middle of the little family gathering, the stonemason stood with two pieces of metal by both his hoofed legs. The horse greeted Vas when he approached, and he smiled when he presented the dragon with his newly polished armor.

"Wow," Vas said, "they haven't glimmered like that in a long while."

"You're our knight in shining armor," the horse said. "You've gotta look the part. I may not be a blacksmith, but I know how to keep my steel tools clean."

"Thank you so much," the dragon replied with a bow.

The horse bowed even lower when Vas stood straight again. "No, no, I bow to you, sir knight."

Vas couldn't put on the armor yet without phasing out his wings, so he let the blacksmith carry it back into the inn. A little girl, a hopping pretty little bunny, bounced up to him and attacked him with a great big grin that only a child could possess.

"Thank you so much," the little girl said. "The bad wolf is gone, and mommy says to give you this."

The bunny held out her paws, offering Vas a little golden star. He picked it up and looked at the words inscribed on the hefty piece of metal.

Sheriff.

He smiled and flipped the star over. A pin. He had no shirt, but he stuck it on the top of the right side of his pants and stood proudly. Desmond's inn was his inn, and this town was now his town.

He'd make sure nobody would trouble them while he bore that star.

The wine, which he shared with Desmond, turned out to be spectacular too.