# The Eternal Bond

Author: Cheetahs
Tags: Adult, Adventure, Anatomically Correct, Aroused, Bestiality, Breasts, Character Development, Cuddling, Cum, Daenerys, Dragon, Drogon, Ejaculation, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Female, Feral, First Time, Game of Thrones, Handjob, Hard-on, Heterosexual, Human, Love, Lust, M/F, Male, Masturbation, Messy, Naughty, Non-anthro, Nudity, Plot Development, Romance, Rule 34, Spooge, Story Series, Teasing, Virgin, Wet, Wyvern, Yiff, Zoophilia, affection, cock, cum shot, erection, licking, orgasm, penis, seed, sex, straight

This is a freely released story that I've written for my pleasure(and
yours as well, hopefully!) If you want your own, personalized story, Click here to commission meIf you want more awesome stories from me, please consider Supporting me on Patreon
for novel chapters, two to three 5.000 words or longer short stories
with various themes and characters, and more exclusive content! Every
bit helps, depending on your possibilities, and I'm extremely grateful
to each and every one of you for being the driving force that pushes me
to write these great stories for your enjoyment.***Well,
there it is, the second chapter of this story, where Daenerys realizes
that, as Drogon's mother, she is directly responsible to tending to his
needs, teach him how to control his instincts and be there for him when
he needs her. In this particular chapter, the bond between Daenerys and
Drogon deepens, both of them reaching a higher understanding of one
another when Daenerys transcends her status as a Queen and accepts her
role as a mentor and a teacher for Drogon. Hope you like the cover picture I commissioned to mark the occasion. The artist managed
to capture the emotional depth I had in mind for my story. While this
particular scene didn't really happen in my story, it still packs an
emotional punch unlike any other to me.Characters belong to George RR MartinIdea and story by yours trulyArtwork done by Amayensis: http://amayensis.deviantart.com/***Chapter 2 starts here***She woke up during the middle of the night, drenched in
sweat, with her heart beating so loud it threatened to burst in her chest.
Whatever nightmare she had dreamt was washed away by Drogon's muffled moans and
those two smoldering eyes fixated on her. 
He raised his snout from her belly, bumping against one of
her breasts in the process. 
"I--what is it--leave me room to breathe," she said hoarsely. 
For some reason, she lied on her back, her nakedness exposed
to Drogon's hungry eyes. That unnerved her enough to cross her arms over her
chest and shield her bosom. 
 Drogon's snout
retreated further away, his purr deepening a little and his wing enclosing
around her frame in a tighter grip.
"Don't you sleep? I told you to rest."
He nuzzled her shoulder in response and emitted a low
warble. 
"Drogon, I--leave me. Get off me. I'm thirsty and need a
drink," she blurted out when nothing better came to her numb mind. "Lift your
wing."
He did, and as Daenerys crept outside of her warm sanctuary,
she noticed the reason of Drogon's inquisitive sniffs, the source of the frail
shudders traversing his limbs and wings. 
It protruded from the slit located between Drogon's
haunches, throbbing against the sand with a steady motion. His lifted wing
revealed its whole span to her, a bit shorter than her forearm, glistening
under the dapples of pale moonlight creeping through the clouds. 
He was hard, Daenerys realized. Hard enough for his breaths
to be labored and for his toes to clench inwards every time his meat jolted.
That's when his eyes snapped open, only to close a moment after, ever so
slowly. 
A frail gasp escaped her before she whirled on her heels,
unable to look at it. That was--it was Drogon's...and he didn't even have the
decency to cover himself!
"Mrrrrrr rrrrrrrr rrrrrrrr," came Drogon's steady purr as he
drifted back into the world of dreams.
Daenerys would have chuckled to herself if her frame wasn't
so bloody stiff. Awakening in the hot embrace of an overly excited dragon was
nerve wracking, especially to his mother, to his queen. 
It's his dreams, not
your scent, nor your body, Daenerys thought. It made sense, and she would
have had no trouble believing that if her dress still covered her body instead
of serving a better purpose. Still, the suddenness of it disturbed her, more
than it should have. He was so hard, so big! Then again, if she had erotic
dreams, why shouldn't Drogon?
Daenerys smiled to herself on the way to the pool of water
Drogon dug for her. She never thought she'd glimpse her children's gender, at
least not in such obvious fashion. That begged the question of their readiness
to mate, and the implications of being the only living three males in the whole
wide world. Would they fight each other? Split and never see each other away?
An ominous shiver crept through her spine at the thought of
parting ways with her children. She barely knew them, and the short time spent
with Drogon awakened something within her, a spark that begged to be stoked. 
She only let out her pent-up gasp when she sank into the
waist deep water. She jolted at first due to its cold touch, and clenched her
jaws hard enough for her teeth to ache from the terrible pressure. It took only
a few moments to adjust to it, and once she did, Daenerys bent forward to sip
clear water from her cupped palm. 
The water quenched more than her thirst; it stirred her
senses, rousing them from that pleasant numbness and filling her head with
Drogon's throbbing length. 
It was just a cock. A bit unusual in shape, smooth and blood
red, tapered at the tip and thicker towards its base, where a few ridges
encircled the meaty surface that spilled out from his slit. 
Only, this cock was undeniably hard, and it belonged to
Drogon, her child, a dragon who seemed too young to feel the allure of mating
Or was he old enough already? They all grew so fast, from
tiny hatchlings riding atop her shoulders to winged terrors that rained fire
upon the unsuspecting prey from the skies. Drogon's frame already towered above
her, and his long neck only added to that. She would have noticed their genders
sooner or later, and yet, she didn't expect it to be so sudden, and strange,
and intense. 
And Drogon--what did he make of it? He must have been so
confused when he discovered his sexuality for the first time, with no parents
to teach him the reason for his growth, the implications of it, and its
purpose: to reproduce. Only, he couldn't reproduce, not without a living,
breathing female.
What if Rhaegal or Viserion
is a female? A fleeting thought crossed her mind. She scoffed at first,
then laughed, so loud Drogon's shriek made her flinch and restrain herself.
This one, ridiculous thought proved just how much she knew of dragons. Why, she
didn't even check their genders before naming them!
With all that happened the previous day, the gender of her
dragons seemed the least of Danny's concern. On her way back to Drogon's
embrace, a debilitating sorrow shook her slender body, urging her to cross her
arms around her chest. All those dead people... The Sons of the Harpy have
either been vanquished, or they had finished sweeping the city of every man and
woman still loyal to Daenerys. Did they kill Missandei, Torgo Nudho, Daario,
and everyone she cared about? 
At least she still had her children, and her children had
her. Drogon's eagerness to wrap her in his silk-like wing proved her as much,
and for the first time ever, Danny grinned to herself. Nothing felt better to a
mother than her own child's embrace. 
When she next woke up, Drogon no longer had his snout rested
against her chest. His wing didn't shield her from the morning sun's glare. The
deafening silence of the dried oasis cut through her deeper than Drogon's
absence--it made her suppress a desperate scream as she tried to put her
thoughts in order.
He didn't go that far, for he had a wounded haunch and a
much too weak body to sustain a prolonged flight. Cold logic suggested that he
was somewhere close, yet that didn't stop Daenerys' heart from pounding in her
chest. 
She shot onto her legs, her wide, panicked eyes scouting,
looking for him, her mouth open, ready to scream his name. She almost did, had
she not spotted the singed haunch of whatever it belonged to propped against
the trunk of a palm tree. 
Her benefactor landed next to it a moment after, with a
fluid grace that made her squint in disbelief.
"Why did you fly? I told you not to fly. Told you to rest
and recover your strength so that we can--" she cut off before she said
something stupid, like scolding her child for providing her with something to
fill her growling stomach with. 
Drogon didn't utter a peep. He grabbed the seared haunch of
meat--a sheep's, by the look of its size--and presented it to her, purring with
delight. 
Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "For me? It's too much, and it's
half raw. I can..."
She trailed off as Drogon dropped the haunch, rolled it onto
the raw side, and breathed a thin stream of dragonfire upon it. He seared it to
a fine, brown crust, without turning it to charcoal. Impressive.
Once done, he grabbed the haunch and offered it to her a
second time with a reassuring growl.
"Drogon, I don't think I can--I'm grateful. Truly am,"
Daenerys said, and even smiled to mask the apprehension coating her voice. "But
a meal is nowhere near as important as your recovery. I told you to mind your
wounds. Any sudden movement will open them again."
Drogon snorted, shook his head, and cut a bandage with the
claws of his wing appendage. It fell to the ground, a white and red ribbon that
the wind claimed before Daenerys had the chance to do so. 
She almost retorted at his ridiculous gesture if her eyes
didn't narrow with suspicion. The spear gash that the bandage covered--there was
no sign of it! Daenerys ran her hand across Drogon's neck to make sure of it,
obtaining his customary purr in response, rich and deep. She unraveled the rest
of his bandages, only to obtain the same results.
He healed. In less than a day. Even his haunch wound closed,
a speckle of dark grey skin standing out, surrounded by a sea of scales. Those would
grow to cover it as well, undoubtedly. 
The touch of Drogon's snout upon her shoulder drew Danny
back to her senses. He had a glint in his eyes, a smug look that said, "I'm
stronger and more capable than you think, mother."
"No, you're not flying anywhere else today. Give your body
some time to recover," Daenerys said, her voice so stern it surprised her as
well. "A few closed wounds won't make up for your blood loss. You will get
dizzy at times and feel weakened, and I don't want that to happen while we fly.
Falling out of the sky is not how I want to perish."
She already referred to them as 'we', even though her first
flight made her nauseous and more than a little queasy. Drogon needed her
guidance, however, at least until he learned a few more things about the human
society and how it worked. 
"Mrr?"
Drogon's trill made her blink her unfocused eyes. 
"Oh, the meat. It's too much for me, Drogon. I am no dragon,
to eat a haunch in one sitting."
Not that it mattered to Drogon. He craned his neck forward,
his jaws hovering above her arms, his crest flicking from side to side as he
stared at her expectantly. 
Would he be offended if she didn't accept his offering? And
what would he make of her refusal? She didn't want him to eat the whole thing
and leave her hungry, nor go hunt again for her sake and bring back a whole
goat.
Daenerys grabbed the proffered haunch of meat, groaning and
bending forward under its weight. Without Drogon's jaws to hold it, the thirty
pounds chunk of meat weighed down her arms, smearing its juices all over her. 
"Go rest while I eat," Daenerys said through short, daunting
huffs. "And thank you. For bringing this to me, even though it's more than I
need."
Upon hearing that, Drogon snatched the haunch from her grip,
sprawled on his side, and lifted a wing to expose his dark grey chest to her.
He thrummed invitingly, blinking in approval. 
It couldn't hurt, to rest her back against his scaled side
while she ate. Better leverage, smoother surface, and his warmth to soothe her.
The palm trees had a rough, ridged bark that chaffed her back raw, whereas
Drogon's scales had yet to harden to the impenetrable chainmail everybody
talked about. He was still young, only a summer and a half old, with a temper
that earned him several spears lodged into his hide. 
Daenerys tucked her knees together and stretched her arms
expectantly once her butt kissed the warm sand. Drogon eased the haunch into
her grip, licking the savory juices off his scaly lips. Although the rich brown
of the meat looked good, its taste made Danny's stomach churn and her throat to
tighten from her suppressed gagging. Without salt and spices, lamb had a raw,
pungent taste, one that urged her to hold her breath while chewing hard and
fast. 
She focused entirely on her meal, her eyes fixated on the
haunch, her nostrils flared to take in deep breaths. The small folk considered
a lamb haunch a real treat, to be eaten at certain festivities only, while she
gasped and gagged and struggled to gulp down even a couple of bites. Was that
what her pampered lifestyle turned her into? A weak, pitiful creature that
couldn't even enjoy a rich, soft meat somebody else supplied her with? 
With a groan and a vehement shake of her head, Daenerys
refused to let her body best her. She needed to eat, to build up her strength,
to strike back against the Sons of the Harpy. To do that, she had to swallow
every single bite. 
"This one's a lamb, yes?" Her jaws hurt from the frantic chewing,
her stomach reeled with the weight of half raw meat, but the thought of this
being her last meal for the following days kept Daenerys motivated. "You can't
hunt lambs. Not goats, nor chicken, nor cows. Animals that belong to humans are
to be left unscathed."
Drogon regarded her with a confused expression, like that of
a child who tried to impress his mother and failed to do so. His soft thrum
softened her frame, but Daenerys straightened her shoulders, swallowed hard to
contain her building hiccups, and narrowed her eyes.
"I had to chain your brothers, to take away their freedom
when the humans threatened to take their lives. I will have no choice but to
chain you if you hunt another sheep, cow, goat or chicken again." She made sure
to speak the name of every domesticated species, hoping that Drogon's mind
would make the right connections.
His only reply was his deep hum as his snout closed in to
nuzzle her shoulder, his nostrils flared as he drew in quick, successive
breaths. Daenerys assumed he favored the smell of singed meat, but the throaty
moan that followed was unlike any sound she had heard before. 
He drew back, as quickly as he stretched his neck to nuzzle
her, and began to lick at his shoulder idly while his haunches kept shifting,
his toes flexing and curling to grip fistfuls of sand. With the corner of her
eyes, she caught a glimpse of his growing discomfort; it poked through his
slit, a throbbing shaft with a tapered tip that lurched and swelled with each
shuddering ripple that traversed Drogon's frame. 
Daenerys' breath stuck in her throat for a fleeting moment.
Her stomach tightened, and a lump formed in her throat at the sight of his
expanding meat. He grew so fast! In the span of a few thundering heart beats,
his member already made its way out of his slit in its entirety, the ridges
lined along his base flared with obvious lust. 
He can't control it,
Daenerys thought. He is just discovering
his sexuality. These things happen.
And when they happened, they made her so uncomfortable
Daenerys tucked back into her meal and began eating like a ravenous beast, if
only to distract herself from Drogon's pulsating shaft. It bobbed up and down,
slapping against his belly with soft thumps, then touched the coarse sand for a
brief moment, during which Drogon hissed his displeasure. 
She took one more bite, then another, focusing on the sounds
of her chewing to distract herself from Drogon's curt shrieks, growls,
whimpers. She tried her best to keep her eyes fixated on her meal, but a
perverse sense of curiosity urged her to look sideways. Whenever that happened,
Daenerys' heart skipped a beat. 
Seeing her child erect unnerved her, and his pained sounds
even more so. His flesh looked so smooth and sensitive, blanketed with his
translucent arousal, and it never stopped moving. It tensed up, hitting his
belly, making Drogon shudder and flex his wings. He tried relaxing his limbs
and lift a hind leg towards the sky, but that only caused his tip to slide
across the sand as his haunches thrust instinctively. 
A whine escaped him, short and feeble, filled with pent-up
irritation at his predicament. 
Daenerys smiled at first. Watching a male dragon's obvious
discomfort made for an odd yet amusing experience, one that only she could ever
witness. The more she listened to his whimpers, however, the more uncomfortable
she became, until her smile turned wry and her eyebrows arched with veiled
concern. What if he hurt himself down there? His member looked so vulnerable, a
rod of glistening meat, lacking the protection of scales. 
She gulped down the last bite, wiped her mouth with an arm,
and chanced him a fleeting glance. "I'm done eating Drogon. It's yours."
"Mrrrrrrrrrrrp?" Drogon tucked his tightness behind the
sanctuary of a haunch, snarling with obvious displeasure at the raw touch of
his own scales pressing against his erection.
Daenerys presented him the haunch, arms shaking under its
weight. "You should eat it before it spoils."
He nuzzled her shoulder first. Then, he drew back, crest
flared with puzzlement. 
"I'm a human, Drogon. I had my fill. That means I cannot eat
anymore."
That's what the dragon waited to hear. His jaws latched
around the haunch, his tongue wrapping tight around it to carry it into his maw.
He swallowed it down in one hard gulp, without even chewing on it. Such an
effortless way of eating, with no tears welled on the corner of his eyes from
his first experience with raw meat and no panting involved from the hefty
chewing motion. Daenerys wiped her budding tears away with her arm, her hands
too grimy for this purpose.
Drogon noticed her fanned fingers, and the way she shook her
hands to get rid of the droplets of lamb juices. Before she had the chance to
object, his tongue lashed out of his snout, curling around her hands and
slurping away the fluids drenching her soft skin with deft strokes. 
"Drogon wait. You're only making things worse. Your drool
is--I'll still have to wash afterwards." 
That didn't stop him from gripping her hands with his
strong, muscular tongue and pulling her towards the rows of razor-sharp teeth,
too close for comfort. Daenerys cringed at first, bit her lower lip to suppress
a gasp when Drogon's purr ignited in his throat at giving her such a thorough
licking.
"T--thank you," Daenerys' shaky voice came as soon as his
tongue let go of her. "Though I have to wash away your drool now." She
stretched out a hand to block his snout. "I will be back. To clean myself, all
I have to do is take a stroll over to the pit and bathe myself GAH," she gasped
when Drogon's tongue attacked her torso, his lithe appendage dancing around her
bare, curvaceous breasts, wiping away both sweat and thin blotches of lamb
juices.  
She squirmed, giggled, even yelped under his relentless
tongue strokes. It tickled! But more than that, her child became bolder and
more daring with each passing second. Having cleaned her upper body, he now
switched to her thighs, smeared with blood and soot. Faced with her thicker,
stronger limbs, Drogon's licks became more erratic, lacking the finesse he displayed
earlier.  His slurps became terser, his
whiffs stronger as he slipped down a thigh, only to return to her loins for
another stroke shortly afterwards. 
Daenerys caught his snout between her hands, clutching him
hard, as if her life depended on it. "Enough. I'm more than clean. I don't need
you to lick me all over with your slobbering tongue and only make things worse
instead of--"
Drogon's throaty whimpers climbed a pitch higher. He shook
away from her grip, bumped his snout into her femininity, and dabbed his tongue
at her dainty folds. 
Daenerys' eyes widened in an instant at the sudden
penetration. Blood surged through her temples, making them pound, and her eyes
half lidded to contain the jolt of pleasure that spiked through her being. Only
his forked tip made it through her thin entrance and into her silken depths,
his stroke feeble, short, yet enough to make her bite her lower lip to muffle
her gasp. 
She knew what happened, why it happened. Her child wanted to
satisfy his curiosity. Nothing more. And still, that didn't stop the
overwhelming revulsion from making her stomach lurch from the sudden
realization. He invaded her innermost sanctuary without her consent! That alone
brought sudden strength to Daenerys' arms, and she finally managed to shove the
persistent snout away. 
"STOP!" She yelled from atop her lungs. "Don't touch me.
Never touch me, ever again!" she demanded, her voice hoarse and breathless. 
Drogon cocked his head, crest twitching, nostrils flared. He
blinked fast, as if trying to dispel the trance that took hold of him, and
released a drawn-out whimper in response to her request. 
Not good enough. Daenerys made use of his distraction to
jump to her feet and lunge away from him, barely containing the feral growl
that clawed at her throat, begging for release. He tasted her. He violated her.
He snuck his tongue inside her on a whim, without regard for moral
implications. 
"He's a beast," she hissed. "That's what he is. A mindless
beast driven by urges and instincts."
She chanced a look back at him, and crossed her grimy hands
over her mouth when she saw his member tense up and release thin, watery jets
of arousal that whipped at the ground with each spurt. Drogon's building roar
shattered into mellow growls, and he used his wing appendages to secure a firm
position while his head snaked towards...
Daenerys turned away, unable to look. 
"He's a beast. A mindless beast, driven by urges and
instincts," she said to herself over his thinning moans. Her pace picked up,
and goose bumps lined along her arms as Drogon took care of his tightness with
his snout, or tongue, or whatever. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of
her child swallowing his own essence. Only whores in their lavish brothels
swallowed semen. Not her child. Never her child. 
His increasingly harsher growls soothed her inner turmoil
somewhat, culminating with an exasperated roar and a thud of defeat as Drogon
crashed back against the ground, still hard, still unsatisfied. She smiled to
herself at his failed attempt to draw the seed out of his body, and at the same
time, she felt strangely conflicted. 
Men had wives to tend to their needs, and the men who didn't
have a wife paid whores to alleviate their throbbing discomfort. Drogon had no
one. No female to pursue, no mate to sink his tapered length into, no nether
depths to fill to the brim with his essence. All he had were his snout and
paws, both unfit to bring him the much needed release he sought. 
Her head became even heavier as she entered the pool of
lukewarm water. She sank inside it up to her breasts, releasing a heavy sigh,
laden with a thousand worries. Did Viserion and Rhaegal battle their own urges?
Were they still alive? Although their fire and talons proved more than a match
to any Sons of the Harpy that lacked the acumen to attack a dragon, the chains
grounded them, fettered them, restricted their freedom. The Sons of the Harpy
had but wait for hunger to weaken her children, and then end them. 
Icy fingers crept through Daenerys' spine at the gloomy
thought, urging her to quench her thirst and then splash water over her sun
kissed skin. A few hefty scrubs washed away Drogon's drool, and she snuck two
fingers into her pussy, moaning as she rubbed her sensitive walls to clean them
of Drogon's saliva. Disgusting creature, to sneak his tongue into everything
with a hole...
She giggled at that particular thought, never imagining that
dragons shared so many traits with other beasts. The books painted them as
stoic, majestic creatures that overcame their bodily needs and cared for naught
but obeying the humans they trusted. Drogon, on the other hand, became
helplessly hard, and had no clue on how to tend to this impediment. He sniffed
at her crevice, licked it, even washed her body with his tongue while purring
like an oversized cat. 
She liked this playful side of him, his unbidden curiosity
at exploring his mother with the only tools he had at his disposal, his snout
and tongue. It contrasted with his wilder side, the one that he still struggled
to contain. 
"I have to help him. Teach him how to live alongside
humans," Daenerys whispered under her breath. She was his mother, and mothers
taught their children everything they needed to know. 
Bent on fixing her past transgressions, Daenerys clambered
out of the pool and shuffled towards Drogon. He perked his head up, his
nostrils widening to catch her soggy scent. 
"No no, don't lick," Daenerys said when she was in range of
his snout and tongue. "The sun's rays have a bite to them, and the moisture
keeps me cool."
She settled in front of him, grabbed him by one horn to
settle him in her lap, and began stroking the sides of his jaw with her
fingertips. 
"I know you have a...problem," Daenerys blurted out. "I've
seen it, noticed your discomfort at trying to...relieve that pressing urge."
Drogon's eyes bore into hers, his ebony slits thin, sunken
inside pools of molten lava. He let out a frail chirrup as his crest flattened
along his skull. 
That only made it more awkward for her. Whatever noble
intentions she had at teaching him on how to deal with humans, they vanished
amidst her swirling thoughts. "It will go away. It always does. All you need is
proper distraction." 
She threw his hindquarters a fleeting glimpse. Still hard. 
A wan smile spread across her lips. Her fingers curled
around his angular jaw, stroking it faster, flaring Drogon's rumbling purr a
pitch higher. 
"There are things you have to learn, my child, certain ways
of how to deal with us humans. Is that a lesson that interests you?"
Drogon's crest flared with excitement, and he dug his snout
into her belly, dabbing at her skin with the tip of his forked tongue. 
Daenerys switched her palm over his snout, looking at him
with a stern gaze. "No Drogon. No play. Now you stay and listen. It's very
important that you do."
His head shifted against her thighs as he made himself
comfortable in her lap. The rough kiss of his scales made Daenerys wince at
first, but the warmth oozing through them quickly washed away her discomfort. 
"Humans always fear that which they do not understand, and
you're a dragon. There is no living person that truly understands a dragon, not
even me."
"Rrrrrrrrrr?" He crooned, nudging her breasts with the soft
scales rounding his flared nostrils.
"No, not even me." She leaned over to kiss his brow and rest
her cheek against his smoldering scales while her fingers traced the exquisite
shape of his smooth horns. "I wasn't there for you, like mothers should be. I
fed you in a rush, intent on going back to my kind and their platitudes. I
never slept at your side, never checked on your welfare. I barely touched your
scales..."
She trailed off, basking in Drogon's warmth, delighting in
the suave strokes of his snout against her chest and arms. He was so quick to
forgive her for a lifetime of loneliness, so tender, so kind, a stark contrast
with the vicious beasts other people made dragons to be.
Daenerys swallowed the lump in her throat and continued with
a shaky voice. "The humans will shun you. They will never trust your presence,
so stay away from them. Do not steal their belongings, kill their animals, or
sleep on their turf. Most importantly, don't harm them when they seek to harm
you."
Drogon drew back at that, forcing her to look upon him as he
blinked several times in confusion.
"They're fragile creatures, Drogon. Only their steel can
harm you, and that's only until your scales harden after a summer or two."
He shook his head, snorting, his crest tucking and flexing. 
Daenerys didn't know what that mean, only that he needed her
hands upon his cheeks and his chin against her haunches. She caressed him,
drawing the growling spite out of him and replacing it with his customary purr.

"There are people that you can kill, like the spear bearers
with masks called the Sons of the Harpy. If a human ever tries to harm you, fly
away if you can. Fleeing for safety is the best course of action."
Drogon's purr deepened under her pleasant treatment, and
visible shudders crept through his scaled hide. His wings twitched a little,
and Drogon raised his head to look upon his throbbing length. A soft warble
left his maw, so melodious, yet laden with palpable distress.
He sought refuge into her lap once again, his nostrils
twitching as he took in deep, audible breaths. His tongue poked out of his
snout, touching her thighs, making Daenerys recoil and Drogon hiss. He suddenly
sprawled onto his side, growling his lust as several jets of translucent
arousal speared out of his cock in quick succession. They shot past her with
uncanny force, drawing visible furrows across the sand where they landed.
That was her cue to get up and throw Drogon an uncertain
glance. If he was close enough to his great pleasure, then she wanted to make
sure he was alone, unperturbed by her presence, while he spilled his great
burden. "I'm--I have to make my water. You should try using your tongue. It's
flexible, has a good grip, and it's more than fit for...that hard muscle of
yours."
She turned her back to him and hurried for the cover of the
nearest palm tree. She crashed under its shadow and released an audible sigh
before cupping her face into her palms. Drogon's musk, raw and spicy, clung to
her skin; it made her shiver due to its foreign touch, but she quickly grew
accustomed to it. 
She relished the moment of peace, away from Drogon's
embrace. His heat smothered her, and his purr still filled her ears, the most
pleasant of songs that a dragon mother could hear. He was a creature of
instinct, her Drogon. He most certainly knew how to take care of his growing
problem.
His frustrated growls, however, proved otherwise. Daenerys
tensed up, sucked in a deep breath to still her racing heart beats, and took a
peek at Drogon.
He lay on his side, presenting her with his belly and the bobbing
nuisance that he couldn't quite reach due to the span of his wing. Once his
neck grew a bit longer, he would undoubtedly be able to pleasure himself, but
for now, a few infuriating inches kept his thrusting tongue away from his ruddy
tip. 
After a few more failed attempts to take himself into his
maw, Drogon sprawled across the sand, his hind paw aloft to offer Daenerys the
best image of his malehood. She swallowed emptily, holding her breath while she
gauged it. 
It was so big! A bit longer than her forearm, thinner
towards the tip and almost as thick as her thigh towards the ridged base. His
member pulsated in unison with his breath, beads of translucent arousal forming
onto his tip and dripping on the ground in a steady motion. 
Daenerys pressed her back against the trunk of the palm
tree, unable to look at it a moment longer. The way Drogon's snout scrunched,
his deepening snarl, and that constant, frustrated growl smoldering in his
chest tore at her heart with fiery claws. 
What seemed ridiculous and slightly repulsive to her brought
great discomfort to her child. Unlike humans, who shrunk after a fleeting
moment, Drogon remained hard for longer than she cared to count. His rock hard
meat needed proper stimulation to relax--stimulation that Drogon couldn't
provide on his own. 
"This is ridiculous," Danny said to herself before letting
out an exasperated sigh. "What am I supposed to do for him? He doesn't need me.
I can't do anything for him. What he needs is a female."
That excuse again. Daenerys knew it well, for she always
blamed the needs of her children on something else other than her abilities to
solve them. She had lived like this since the very day they hatched, oblivious
to their needs and to the affection they harbored for her. A few moments spent
in Drogon's presence made him bloom, and reveal to her a tender side that she
had no knowledge of. What sort of mother was she, to flee from her children
whenever they had need of her?
Mothers take care of
their children's needs, no matter what they are. 
This one thought steeled Daenerys; it filled her with
motherly courage, pushing her onto her feet and carrying her towards Drogon.
She knew what she had to do, how to do it, and why. And still, her heart
pounded in her chest. A thin film of sweat covered her frame, and not due to
the sun's midday glare. 
She was apprehensive, yes; what dragon mother in her stead
wouldn't be? Drogon had every right to mistrust her intentions, and a swing of
those wicked talons was enough to disembowel her. 
Daenerys pressed on, undaunted, her gaze sharp and her
footsteps firm. The intensity of her posture took Drogon aback. The dragon
flinched, letting out a flimsy growl at her approach and stretched his neck to
greet her. 
"My child," Daenerys said as she ran a hand down his neck
while the other petted him between the nostrils. "My sweet, caring child. You
made me a mother a summer and a half ago, but it's only now that I understand
what being a mother requires."
Drogon trilled in delight, rubbing his cheek against her
side and licking at her hand enthusiastically. 
"I always loved you Drogon, but you helped me understand
what love means, as well as the extent of a mother's efforts to see her
children flourish." 
She fell onto her knees, wrapped his arms around his neck,
and embraced her child for the first time. A true hug, where his heat slipped
through her bare skin, sending fiery tingles through her muscles, rousing her
senses from their long time stupor. 
And then, for the first time, Daenerys grinned. A genuine
smile, full of warmth and passion, reserved only for her child. She loved the
way Drogon's purr vibrated within her chest, the soft touches of his snout
against her perky breasts, his shuddering crest as he tried to cope with Daenerys'
sudden affection towards him. That only made her heart swell and her stomach to
fill with butterflies.
She loved him, more than she ever loved Drogo. 
Daenerys made her feelings known by staring into Drogon's
deep, understanding eyes while she stroked his neck. They didn't need words to
understand each other; the bond between mother and child ran deeper than that,
and both of them knew it.
"Mothers take care of their children's needs, Drogon, no
matter what they are."
With that said, Daenerys got onto her feet. She fondled his
leathery crest on the way towards his hindquarters, relishing its softness upon
her fingers. Drogon liked it too, by the sound of his deep purr and half lidded
eyes. The poor, horny thing no longer hoped to tend to his erection. He remained
at the mercy of his instincts, something that Daenerys didn't want to allow,
not while her perfectly capable hands made Drogon shudder, twitch and jerk his
tail from a mere touch upon his scaly hide. 
To ease him into it--and to contain her own rising
apprehension--Daenerys first massaged his wing, starting from the thick wing
joint and continuing along the smooth, leathery surface. His wing membrane was
more sensitive than she assumed, for Drogon lifted his wing out of her reach
and shook it a few times to dispel her foreign touch. 
Ticklish--no, not ticklish. Dragons didn't let out such a
frail, shrilling cry from a mere tickle, nor did their cock lurch and spew
forth a string of liquid arousal. Drogon practically teetered on the edge of
his climax, his paws shuddering, and his toes clenching around nothingness
while his tail tip twitched fervently. 
Daenerys considered caressing his haunch, maybe grip his
toes and hold them still while she inspected his talons. Were they as sharp as
people claimed? 
You're stalling, she
mentally scolded herself. You know what
to do and purposefully delay it.
She was, but that's only because she stood inches from
Drogon's pulsing meat. Grabbing a dragon's malehood and stroking him to its
completion was unheard of, and her blood boiled at the mere prospect of doing
it. Every fiber in her body grew taut with nervousness, and moisture vanished
from her throat, leaving it tight and parched. 
She had to do it. Fast, before she lost her nerve. 
Daenerys lowered herself onto her knees for better access,
swallowed emptily, and bit her lower lip, the pain motivating her stretched
hand to inch closer, and closer, until...
A ragged gasp escaped her upon contact, dwarfed by Drogon's
sudden shriek. She stumbled back, her heart threatening to burst in her chest
as Drogon scrambled to his feet and lunged away from her with a leap enhanced
by a wing beat. 
He turned towards her, snarling, hissing, his crest flared
and his member half retreated into his slit. 
Daenerys wanted to apologize, to seek forgiveness for her
bold approach, to say something, or at least signal Drogon to approach.
She couldn't. She was paralyzed, her fingers stiff and
rigid, her palm coated with Drogon's arousal. The sudden heat of his member still
smoldered within the surface of her skin, and the tightness of his meat
confirmed Daenerys' suspicion. What she did was right, necessary, justified. 
Drogon knew it as well. That fleeting touch scared him and
excited him in equal measure, enough to make him sprawl onto his side and lure
Daenerys to approach him with soft, whining sounds. She strode towards him,
emboldened by the mellow sounds tugging at her heart. Once she reached him,
Drogon's purr flared in his throat, his snout rubbing all over her body while
his tongue licked every inch of her. Daenerys had to grab his horns to keep
herself from falling under the relentless show of affection, and waited until
his excitement subsided before making her move. 
This time, she patted his haunch to get his attention,
allowing her resolute gaze to sink in. Drogon responded by flicking his crest
and sprawling onto his side, his breath labored and his purr hitching in his
throat due to nerves. 
Daenerys never imagined Drogon, of all creatures, to be the
nervous type. Then again, it was the first time for them both, and she still
couldn't unravel her numb tongue enough to form words. Instead, she allowed
actions to speak on her behalf, by kneeling next to his member and grabbing the
middle of his shaft between her cupped hands.
Drogon's reaction was immediate--his aloft hind paw jerked,
and his wings fluttered as a whimpering growl reverberated through the air. His
member began rocking back and forth, urging Daenerys to slide towards his tip
with rocky movements. Once there, she cupped his tapered tip within the
confines of her palm, kneading at his smooth, sensitive flesh, rubbing him with
her finger pads, allowing him to thrust between her fingers. 
His hindquarters jerked with terse, awkward motions, driving
his length deeper into her palm, urging her to tighten her clutch. She did, and
her firmer grip made Drogon's growls turn into a building shriek. He grew still
for a fleeting moment, then bucked his hindquarters once again, his aqueous
arousal bursting from his tip with such pressure than Daenerys relinquished her
grip over his tip and focused on the rest of his shaft instead. 
How did one pleasure a dragon, anyway? Every part of him
seemed responsive to her touch, and Drogon's paws shook whenever her fingers
laced around his member. The translucent arousal that coated its surface made
her hands slide across it effortlessly, each tantalizing motion a feast to
Drogon's overly sensitive member. He jerked, shook, throbbed within the
confines of her hands, the thrusts of his haunches curt and rocky.
He is suppressing his
urge to mate, Daenerys realized. He
is afraid of thrusting too hard, too deep; afraid of hurting his mother by
allowing his instincts to take over. 
Daenerys let go of his member for a second, allowing Drogon
to draw in a deep, wheezing breath while she caressed his stiff haunch. She
offered him a forced smile, yet that had to do. When her body shook with
obvious distress at handling Drogon's erection, her muscles didn't feel quite
as responsive as they should.
"Do not fight it, my dear child," she whispered. "That's the
point of it, to feel good. How can it feel good, if you are so uptight about
it?"
Drogon dipped his head, growling uncertainly and shifting a
wing over his haunch to cover himself.
"No." Daenerys thrust a hand against his wing, holding it
from falling over his member. "I want to do this Drogon. It's what mothers do.
A mother takes care of her children's needs, no matter what they are, and you
need this. You need your release."
She didn't give him time to doubt himself. Instead, her
hands returned to his member, running along his length, massaging it with slow,
tantalizing movements, drawing frail moans from him. Drogon's head jerked
upwards, his eyes closed to fight back his lust as his cock lurched in her grip
with obvious need.
She had to do it. Had to get his release. Only, Daenerys
didn't quite know how. In theory, it all seemed fine, but his thick cock made
for an awkward grip for her petite hands, and the slick arousal coating his
surface made her grip falter every time his member lurched.
Daenerys tried her best to stoke Drogon's pleasure with a
jerking, up and down motion, quite rocky and abrupt. Instead of keeping her
fingers intertwined and clutch his length at all times while using the gaping
hole between her palms to surround him in a pleasant grip, Daenerys resorted to
something else entirely. She stroke his cock, like one stroked a dog, rubbing
it, squeezing it, kneading at it with hard, hard, clumsy movements. 
She didn't know what else to do, or how to do it properly.
Her temples pounded so hard her head threatened to burst, and she only realized
she had been holding her breath when Drogon's screeching roar made her jolt and
yelp. 
Was he--was he going to....?
Daenerys didn't wait for the confirmation. Her eyes settled
on those flared ridges, and both of her hands followed. They became impossibly
hard, three uneven rings of flesh that Daenerys rubbed so hard and fast her
wrists burned from the rapid motion. While one hand stimulated his ridged base,
the other slid towards his tip, her fingers latching around it, squeezing and
releasing him with a milking motion. 
That did it for Drogon. His climax hit him so hard that his
roar died in his throat and his frame fell limp before his impending release.
Daenerys' own breath hitched, her eyes wide, her body trembling in unison with
the rocking motion of his cock.
Without as much as a warning, Drogon's seed burst out of his
tapered tip, a hefty ivory spear that took him straight into his neck. He
hissed first, then released shuddering moans as his burdening essence left his
body in thick, long jets that continued to pelt his neck. They splattered upon
his scales with audible squelches, and all Drogon did was roar his heart out,
his neck too numb to shift out of the way.
Daenerys fell onto her belly from the sheer might of his
spurts, cradling his member to her chest as she pointed it towards the
sprawling desolation, away from Drogon's body. With no searing spurts to
plaster upon his frame, Drogon's roar flared a pitch higher, becoming a thin
shrill that reverberated within Daenerys' chest. It grew weaker and weaker,
just like his spurts, as the dragon's pent-up lust poured out of his body.
He had so much in him! By the time he tapered off, his thick
draconic essence created a small puddle, several feet away from them, bearing
the same sharp fragrance as Drogon's body. Daenerys continued to stroke him
idly as she cradled his length tight against her chest, panting in unison with
Drogon's wheezing breaths, milking the last of his dribbling spurts. His first
spurts had a thick, creamy consistency to them, while his latter ones grew
milky and slippery. 
She smeared his essence along his cock, painting its ruddy
surface with blotches of white, rubbing his ridges a few more times before his
shrinking length fled into the confines of his slit. As soon as his tip
disappeared into the ocean of black that his scales were, Daenerys rolled away
from him and stopped upon her back, her brow furrowed and her eyes squinted
against the sun's harsh rays. Drogon's first climax drained her, nearly as much
as it drained him. The dragon tried to purr, but his ragged breaths got in the
way, as did the occasional moaning growl that still rippled through the air. 
"You're my child," Daenerys said. "There is...nothing I'll
deny you, ever again."
It felt strangely right to say it. Her words resonated with
her maternal instinct of looking after her children, stoking it, making this
whole experience of giving Drogon his first climax a necessity, nothing else. 
She rolled onto her chest when the rasping sound of tongue
brushing against scales stirred her senses. Drogon began licking himself clean,
his nimble tongue rolling across the thin, ivory snakes coating his hide. His
snarl deepened whenever he carried his creamy seed into his maw, his tail tip
twitching with renewed vigor. 
Did the taste disturb him? Daenerys didn't wait to find out.
She pushed herself onto her legs to circle Drogon, approaching him from the
side that didn't bear the outcome of his explosive climax. The scent of
draconic essence wafted through the small puddle he created, making Daenerys
snort and wipe her nose to distract herself from its pungent touch. It had a
tangy tint, quite heavy and musky, yet delightfully foreign. The more she
breathed in, the faster she became accustomed to it, enough for her stomach to
settle and keep from lurching when Drogon turned his head to face her. Thin
strands of creamy, ivory seed marred his chin from where his tongue couldn't
reach it. Daenerys tried her best to ignore them, but that proved futile when
Drogon's snout snaked forward, brushing against her with renewed affection, his
purr louder than ever. 
Daenerys yelped, shrieked, cringed under his terse assault. She
staggered back, heaving, glaring at Drogon from smearing his essence all over
her body. 
"That's one other thing you have to learn," she said with a
stern voice. "To wash yourself when you're filthy, and be careful not to spread
it all over--"
He trudged closer to her, enough for his tongue to wash all
over her body. Daenerys kept her mouth shut for fear of getting his saliva into
her mouth, or worse, his seed. His breath reeked with his musky tang, and
Drogon still purred, oblivious to it.
She couldn't fault him for his display of affection, not
after her child had his first climax. His pleasurable experience made him
overly affectionate and tender, his snout pausing to utter a low, inquisitive
growl before rubbing against Daenerys' frame. She nodded, and the moment it
happened, Drogon was all over her, rubbing his neck against her frame, then
brushing his cheek along one of her arms. 
He begged for her caress, the rogue. When Daenerys didn't
give it to him, he settled next to her and wrapped her in the warm shelter of
his wing. He squeezed her tight enough to make Daenerys giggle and scratch idly
at that sensitive, leathery surface, drawing throaty whimpers from him. 
"What's the matter? Growing a bit excited?" Daenerys teased
as she did her best to stimulate the sensitive membrane webbed with thin,
throbbing veins. Drogon shuddered, squirmed, even released curt shrills, yet he
still refused to let go of her. 
Daenerys switched to his snout, scratching him between the
nostrils. That made him snort softly and retreat to lick the persistent itch
from his snout.
"Giving up already?"
Drogon responded with feeble moans, his eyelids heavy, his
blinks slow and fatigued. After he nuzzled her chest and dabbed the tip of his
tongue at her cheek, Drogon curled around her in a ball. An audible sigh
escaped him, followed by a soft shudder that dispersed through his frame. 
The embrace of his leathery wing, and his neck curled
protectively around her, never felt that good to Daenerys. She felt so warm, so
safe. 
So loved. 
***Chapter 2 ends here***So much emotion packed in a single chapter. It may not seem as such, but I had to rewrite this particular chapter 3 times before I was pleased with the level of affection and intimacy it boasts. In the first two iterations, either Drogon or Daenerys were too blunt, not subtle enough with their desires or emotions, so it took a bit of learning on how to balance things up and obtain what I think it is a perfect ending. For now, this story ends here. This series started out as something greater, but I also have an ongoing novel in the works that people love just as much, several commissions down the line, and also some personal projects that have been gathering dust for a very long time. Although the initial plan was to end it here, I decided to open this story to possible sequels. If you have the desire to support a continuation to this story, please send me a private message to discuss plans, ideas, price, and so on. If you want more awesome stories from me, please consider Supporting me on Patreon
for novel chapters, two to three 5.000 words or longer short stories
with various themes and characters, and more exclusive content! Every
bit helps, depending on your possibilities, and I'm extremely grateful
to each and every one of you for being the driving force that pushes me
to write these great stories for your enjoyment.I
am also a published author. If you like this work, want to read other
stories of similar quality and support me create more amazing stories, Follow this link and take advantage of the summer sale going for my published stories!Every
purchase counts towards paying my bills and hiring artists to draw
those wonderful covers, so your support is greatly appreciated ^^

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/884129