FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Wind swept over the pine tops like they were overgrown blades of grass, the valley akin to a meadow in this way. Mountains soared into the clouds, frosted by snow at their peaks, while everything below was a natural hue of green. A river ran right down the middle of this wide valley, splitting the forest.

The sky burns such a crisp blue, it's as if the biting cold has colored it so. People who lived here had to be indifferent to the nippy air, and the harsh gusts that worsened it. The culture was built around it. Fires were comforting, physical closeness was precious intimacy, and readily shared at that. And especially at night, the temperature clouded the mind, forcing all of one's attention to one place. Distraction and comfort became a need rather than a want.

Erik, however, lived alone. In his stout, oaken cottage there were all the furnishings necessary for a family, plus the fireplace and chimney, all in a single room. When the sun had gone down, as it had now, the burning logs reflected off the window at the far end of the room. As Erik stared, sitting on the floor, he figured he could see his father's face in the glass. His mother had always said their resemblance was obvious. Same blue eyes, same blonde hair. Some would say he got his considerable height from his father as well.

Bleating, like that of multiple animals, came muffled through the wall. He turned his head and sighed. The sheep were at it again. Getting to his feet, he slipped into his work boots and, before opening the door, took hold of his trusty staff. It was four feet long, solid, and had met many a fox's noses.

As he stepped outside and made his way to the pen, he wondered why they always chose the nighttime to make as much noise as possible. Rounding the corner of the cottage, to which the pen was attached, he looked over the small herd, their puffy coats of white standing out in the darkness. They were quiet now, most of them still as stone. He counted seven, and a slight relief washed over him.

Peering out into the treeline around him, he could just barely make out the outlines of the shrubbery and tree trunks. He tried to spot ears, tails, fur, anything that didn't blend in, a sign of a predator that might have spooked the flock. But, hell, even if there was a wolf staring right back at him, he probably wouldn't have been able to see it.

He yelled out into the woods, his voice echoing into the night, hoping to startle something. Crickets chirped, and leaves rustled in the breeze.

Damnit.

In the past few weeks, something large had begun picking off his flock. He suspected it was some elusive predator, and even reported it to the King's Men. His pride had hurt after the fact.

He turned to head back inside, chalking it off as another instance of his sheep being scared over nothing. He stopped. There was a voice. It was distant, and none of it was intelligible, but it was there. Somewhere, deep in the towering pines, somebody was shouting.

Erik gripped his staff tight. Glancing back at his home, he pursed his lips and set off into the forest. As he traversed the undergrowth, dodging boughs and errant branches, he failed to come up with a credible possibility as to what he would find at this god-forsaken hour. Whoever it was, they were a man. Were they alone? Was it an argument? It certainly didn't sound like a call for help. It was none too desperate.

A root caught the tip of his boot, and he stumbled, his other foot too slow to catch the momentum, and he landed flat on his chest. The air left him, and his teeth grit as he recovered, brushing himself off. He couldn't discern it in the lack of light, but he could tell his hands had gotten cut on something.

Just until I found out what that fucking noise is. Then I can go back.

Picking up his staff, which had been cast to the side, he marched onward. The canopy above blotted out the ground, making it harder to find good footing. But thankfully, the voice sounded closer. He thought he was able to distinguish two voices. Or… was it three? Somewhere between the split of tree trunks, he spotted a flame. It was only for a second, but the orange glow was unmistakable. He picked up the pace, as much as he could while still being careful not to fall again. Whatever was going on, it couldn't have been good. This late at night? It was a sure omen to be wandering about in the woods as things were.

After circling around a particularly dense patch of bushes, he slowed his steps before halting them altogether. There was no clearing, no road, and no establishment of any kind here, just more trees and ferns, and yet there were three men. One carried a burning lantern, and all of them stood around a lump on the ground. Erik squinted.

It was a blanket, and ragged one at that. Fraught by frays and tears, it didn't appear to be something anyone should have an interest in. And yet these stared at it like it was a treasure.

Erik's heart sped up. That was it. It had to be something dangerously valuable hidden beneath that fabric; why else would there be so much ruckus? Why else would someone roam the wilderness in the dead of night? He realized if he held his breath, he could hear what they were on about.

“I get that, I ain't as slow as you think. But one way or another, this little lass has to get to Fjordheim. How d'you suppose we do that before sunrise, ye' stone-head?

Lass? Fjordheim? These men, the black leather tunics, the shortswords at their hips. This was a murky thing, this, and in no better a situation would Erik expect to find the King's Men.

As the men kept bickering, Erik stepped out into the open, bee-lining toward them.

“Are we lost?" he called. Each of them turned in the direction of Erik's voice, their expressions panicked, but quickly eased after seeing no more than a youngling approaching them.

“Aye, just a bit off the beaten path so to speak," the centermost man spoke, holding the lantern. “Nothing to fret over, we'll be on our way, so you can be on yours now."

Erik eyed the mass under the blanket pointedly. Any man, no matter how vain or naive, would have found such a thing suspicious. And the King's Man could clearly tell.

“I see you have a wandering gaze, boy. This is the official business of the King. Not your concern. If you're smart enough, you'll go back the way you came. We'll be off your land in time."

The audacity, the pure gall of this man. His father had warned him countless times about these people. But stubborn as he was, the old man didn't even listen to his words. And that was why, when he tried to stop a public beating, a sword had run him through. And to think his mother ever stood a chance of helping either…

Erik was sick of the needlessness of these people. The mournful regret that weighed on him had sunken through, and become dull. But these men's corruption was still repulsive, their penchant for violence a blight on the kingdom. Even if stepping in meant following in his father's missteps, Erik wouldn't be able to sleep knowing more had suffered at the King's hand. Suffering he could've stopped.

“There's a girl under that rag. I heard you say it. There's no law of the King's that says you ought to kidnap ladies."

The man to the left started toward Erik. “You've got a mouth, boy. Ye' think t'was wise to say that? All on yer' own? Fancy you'll go and report us, won't ye'?"

The middle man grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. “Bjorn, we're not going to kill the boy. Gods, are you not a Man of the King?"

All three began to bicker, two of them upset they couldn't dice Erik right there and then, and the one warning it would do more harm than good. That Erik didn't know what he was seeing. That no one would believe him. That another body would be more work. Plus, it would sully the good name of the King's Men.

The good name?

Solid oak cracked against the middle man's face, and he fell to the ground, dropping the lantern and clutching himself. Erik swung at each of the other two, who jumped back and drew their iron.

“Thieves and murderers! I watched you people bleed my father before me. My mother before me. Your good name is a plague on this land." Erik took the opening to step before the hostage, putting a buffer between the men and her.

Erik's stomach felt cold, like ice, and his heart raced.

What am I doing? What have I done?

The man on the ground groaned, getting back to his own two feet. Blood leaked freely from his nose. The grimace he wore matched the glares of the other two men. There was an assurance of thought in it. He knew he was going to kill the boy, it was painted all over his face. He nodded to the other two men, and as if that was all they had been waiting for, they advanced, blades glimmering in the flame-light.

Fear, he realized, had been pooling his belly, and now it flared with a vengeance, and every muscle of his tensed. There were no thoughts remaining, nothing to ponder with language. A stream of emotion took hold instead, and he ran with it.

He swung. Hard. So hard it felt like his shoulder was overextending, so hard his palms stung when the staff hit something. Erik didn't stop to watch the man spin around from the impact, and instead, he swung again, this time his staff met steel head-on, a blade chipping into the oak.

The King's Man was blocking him, holding him steady, and if Erik didn't do something about it, the other one would cut his head clean from his shoulders. Erik pulled back letting the weight of his body drop, and in the absence of force, the King's Man was caught pushing forward and stumbled off balance.

Erik stepped to the side, raising his staff high before bringing it down. It all happened faster than he could think it, he simply acted. Fear had gripped his every nerve and impulse. He could not make a mistake here.

Hearing the poignant thud of a man's body hitting the dirt, Erik spun around, just in time to watch a wisp of steel slice through the air, cutting him from chest to belly. The pain was immediate and hot, like a fire burning at his skin. His shirt began to bear streaks of wet red.

Erik stumbled, glancing at his wound before the fear surged once more, and he held his staff at his opponent.

"Shouldn't have been so curious, boy," the man said. It was the one who'd spoken most prominently, apparently the leader, his beard denoting seniority.

His time was running thin now, the blood flow would weaken him second by second. He still had to fight, or death would take him sooner.

Lunging forth, Erik thrust with the end of his staff, meaning to disarm, but only succeeding in pushing the man back. He tried to swing, but the bearded man sidestepped deftly, obviously seasoned in this matter. At Erik's next attempt to connect his staff with the man's head, he found his attack deflected and tossed sideways. The man rushed him, seizing the opening, his sword tucked to his chest, ready to spring and cut.

Erik couldn't recover. He simply didn't have the speed for it.

Iron pulled through his skin, Erik's blood spilling as the man slashed. His vision was hazy, he was nauseous, and there was little energy left in his body. Somehow, he was able to stay standing, fingers loosely clasping his staff.

Maybe he had lost too much already. Maybe this was how he died.

The other King's Men had gotten up, their swords at guard. When they began to approach him in tandem, Erik tried to remember his parents as best as he could.

"Was it worth it, boy? This beastly dragon?" One of them asked.

What?

"He's not looking his best," another laughed. Then he watched as the same man ran up to him, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Gods, aren't you… shit." He turned. "Torris, this is the one who'd reported her in the first-"

There was a thundering crash, and in his disorientation, Erik thought he saw something gray flash before him, and the man was gone. Erik fell back, the ground meeting his rump. It hurt to breathe. His head was light.

In the dim lantern light, people shouted, and the two remaining King's Men shouted at the darkness around them. The trees towered over them. Erik's clothes were drenched. A great, four-legged beast leapt into the fray, taking a man with his jaws before striding back out of the light. The other suffered the same fate.

Only the blanketed lump was left, along with Erik. A dragon, if he recalled correctly. Was it true?

Erik went limp, his eyes rolling back as he sprawled out. The whole world had gone black.

---

Hot air washed over his face. His dream ebbed away, and he opened his eyes to see a dragon's head inches from his nose.

He yelled instinctively, attempting to scramble back but instead he fell flat, pain surging through his body. Gods, it was like daggers in his gut, stabbing, and needling. The cuts were still fresh and burning.

Still, the dragon loomed over him. Its scales were gray, its face angular and sharp with rear-pointing horns and amber eyes that pierced right through Erik. The predator was wide of shoulder, stocky, and as large as a moose.

How would its teeth feel around his head when it lunged? Would his death be quick?

The beast growled, gravely, low, the rumble reverberating off of cave walls. A cave, that's where this was, wasn't it? There shone a wide ray of sunlight from a hole up above. The surrounding area was dim.

He thought about closing his eyes before the creature killed him. But maybe it would be better to die with some modicum of bravery. Principle and all that.

“Thor!"

The name came not from his left or his right. Not from the outside. It came from within his mind. It was a her, a young voice undoubtedly.

The stony dragon turned his head, and Erik followed his gaze to find a smaller dragon, no more than a stride away. Somehow he knew this was the one who had spoken.

Her body was sleeker and trimmer than this gray beast (who Erik presumed to be male due to their difference in size). Her scales were smooth and pearly white, like a pure cream. Her underbelly was a light gray, and her eyes shone golden with slitted pupils. There was rich passion in them, even when concern painted her surprisingly expressive visage.

“Thor, what are you doing? You dare not lay a claw on him."

The Norse god's name? For the dark predator before him? Odd. Odd that any of this was happening. Erik was having trouble taking it all in.

The pearly dragon trotted up to him. Her horns were stubbier and blunter than Thor's, but no less present. Erik could only describe her as… no, not that, surely. Why would that come to mind?

She, leaned in, the light pouring over her scales, and sniffed at his bloodied clothes. Erik winced when he tried once more to move away.

“No, human, you mustn't move. You've lost so much blood, Gods above."

She was speaking to him. But her lips had not moved. What magick was this?

“Eva." This time, a voice of greater depth emerged, its resonance pulsing with a tangible energy, like anger. It was akin to rolling gravel. “You truly see it wise to heal this one. Can you be so sure?"

She paused in her motions. "Would you give us some privacy, brother? I can only foresee you angering yourself. No good in sticking about."

He huffed, smoke trailing out of his nostrils. "So you can be alone with a human? Whose kin nearly killed you? Not wise."

She shot Thor a glance before shaking her head. Without another word, she bit the under-brim of his cotton shirt, lifting the fabric up his stomach.

He grunted, his teeth grit as the cuts flared. The friction was minimal but no less painful. The air hurt, just the slightest breeze hurt.

What was she doing? The dragon was leaning in toward his wounds! Her tongue lashed out against the gash in his skin, but there was no accompanying arrow of pain. Instead, all he felt was… relief. A strange, subtle euphoria, a trickle of warmth, bleeding into the cut across his belly. Her tongue was soft, and her saliva wet.

"What…" he tried, but instead became too enraptured in this new sensation. When her tongue left, the red was gone, the cut gone, healthy skin suddenly in its place. It was a fuzzy, golden energy, a thin aura of it glowing around her, and circling around him.

He remembered the legends. The supposed gifts of the dragons. Each dragon was born with its own unique gift. It was true, and it was happening right before his eyes.

With her eyes closed, she continued to lick, her teeth revealed as her mouth opened just enough. They were formidable things, stark white, and pointed like they were crafted for rending flesh. He shivered. Among other attributes he noticed with her being so close, the thing that stood out most was her hide. It was smooth, almost like skin, the scales being so perceptibly small and fine.

When the first cut had completely shut, she put her paws in his lap, pushing his shirt further up to clean the diagonal gash across his chest. The weight put on him was unexpected, but he could do little about it. There were two dragons and one of him.

“Alright, you needn't grovel over the thing, Eva. Is he not healed enough? The sooner you're done, the sooner we can toss him to the woods."

For the most part, the blood had been cleaned away, the results of the fight sealed up. He couldn't believe how his body looked now. It was as if nobody had laid so much as a finger on him.

She stopped, leaning back and looking him over. She smiled, and then met his gaze.

“There." How was there so much compassion in the eyes of this predator? Such intelligence and depth as well?

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik spotted movement. The male (her brother, she'd called him) lumbered toward Erik. There was no pain holding him back. He should have been able to move again. Despite the wrenching instinct, his urge to make a run for it, he steeled his nerves and sat still. Even as Thor towered over him.

"Now. Get as far away from this place as you can. If I see you, or any of your brethren again, I will not warn you. I will not growl, or roar. I will bury you."

Erik could hear his heart beating and feel his head throbbing. He stood up, already looking for an opening through which he could exit. He took a step and collapsed, his legs giving out under his own weight.

He laid, panting, incredulous. How?

One moment he was fine, eager to go. And the next, his energy had been sapped. His muscles were sore, his limbs weak; it was as if his very soul had been struck with lethargy.

"Gods! Why would you say that to him? He can't leave without resting, and by holy souls, he nearly died. Let up on him, brother."

"He can rest in his own home. I can't stomach one of these things being in our midst for so long. Think, Eva. What if his fellows come looking?"

She got up, circling around Erik. Something tugged on the back of his collar, and he found himself being dragged across the floor. With little strength to resist, he sighed in relief when he was simply propped up against a stone wall.

"He knew nothing about us, and yet he fought for me. You saw what happened. Against his own kind no less. I owe him my life, and you said it yourself. You wouldn't have found me if not for the shouting and the fighting. You owe him too."

Thor's great, black claws dug into the rock floor, piercing into it. He wasn't looking at Eva, wasn't returning her gaze. Erik knew it lay on him, and so he observed the ground. It was preferable to seeing… that. Everything about the gray dragon's countenance conveyed impending violence.

Erik flinched when he heard Thor move, paws scraping. But the steps were not toward him and Eva. In fact, they grew quieter as the drake seemed to amble away. An animalistic huff could be heard echoing throughout the cave.

She sighed hugely. The air felt lighter, and he felt free to look around. To look at her. Erik saw that, around a corner, the larger dragon seemed to have dissappeared.

"Thank you," Erik said. It was for everything she'd done. He didn't know if he'd ever been more grateful in his life. “And, I'm sorry to burden the both of you. I would leave you in peace but… my body is drained. Is it because of your… um… gift?"

She chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I suppose it must be a curious thing for you. You'll regain your strength shortly. But forgive me, I have to ask before anything else, what is your name?"

He stammered, amazed at how much nervousness this dragon wrought within him. “Erik. Sorry. And you?"

She tilted her head. “You already heard my name, Erik."

His mouth lay parted before realization overtook his expression. He chuckled. “Yes, right. Eva, I remember. Which makes your brother Thor, right?"

She nodded. “I know he's crass, but… never mind."

He wasn't going to push for whatever that detail was. He opted instead to satisfy a more lighthearted curiosity. “Does that mean he can… you know- wield lightning? With his gift?"

She looked as though he'd just said the craziest thing in the world before she broke into laughter. “Because of the name?" She had to manage between breaths. “It is only happenstance that my brother shares the namesake of the God of Lightning."

Perhaps it wasn't the brightest of questions. Not by a longshot. He felt blood rush to his cheeks. “Sorry, should've figured as much."

She laid a paw on his leg, the pads smooth and plush. It was oddly pleasant, and the sudden contact wasn't alarming.

“There is little we know about each other. But perhaps we can change that. I have to admit, Erik; I have been mildly obsessed with humans for some time. Studying them, that is. Your people's culture, your lives, and stories, it's all a delight to explore. And coincidentally, a human lands right in my lap, a very selfless and brave human at that. I hope you won't mind some questions."

It was incredible. A dragon, with beautiful skin and a positively divine, magical gift, was fascinated with him. “That's flattering. And I would want nothing more than to indulge but, aren't I intruding here? I mean, I'm certainly not welcome by your brother's wishes."

She shook her head, shifted closer to him, and raised her forepaws to his shoulders. They were face to face, dragon and human.

“Nevermind him. When those people trapped me, lured me into their con, I felt so utterly betrayed by them. All I'd wanted was to communicate, to learn. But instead, I found myself surrounded, and then a man made me drink something horrid. I must've fallen asleep in time. I don't remember much after that. But that's besides everything. The fact that you tried to help was enough to reignite the hope that had burned within me."

"Hope for what?"

"For you. A good human."

Erik nodded. So that was why she'd vouched for him in the face of Thor's anger and inhibitions. There was now a world for both of them to discuss, two opposite perspectives that were usually incompatible, two perspectives that would usually never convene. But this was not a usual circumstance.

"What now?" he asked.

It seemed she hadn't even considered that herself, for she didn't immediately answer.

"You're warm-blooded, no?"

He nodded.

"Well, how far are you willing to oblige my curiosity?"

His eyebrows furrowed. She couldn't mean what he thought she was hinting at. "I suppose it depends. What's on your mind?"

She got down off his shoulders, pivoting, then promptly laid on her side facing him, wings tucked neatly against her back. Her hindlegs were haphazardly parted, and as his gaze wandered, he found that her… womanhood… was quite visible. After he averted his eyes, he prayed silently to the Gods that she had not noticed.

"Please don't think me strange for this but, I've always heard humans show affection in a very physical way. Closeness seems to be a very intimate and pleasureful tradition. Can you show me?"

She was asking him to cuddle. That was it wasn't it? To him, that was indeed strange, but with Eva's kind demeanor and soft-looking body, he found himself growing curious right alongside her. Plus, what did he have to lose? No one was around, and he did have to rest. She'd said as much.

With several excuses properly made, he shifted over to her, slowly, and with effort. When he got before her, kneeling, he realized that she was not exactly the size suitable for human cuddling. But then, that was only the cuddling he'd initially imagined. He supposed he didn't have to be the one holding her. Laying his back against her, he sighed at the pure relaxation that poured over him. The position was nice, but he wasn't done.

“You wanted to see how we show affection right?"

Her eyes lit up. “Mhm!"

“Alright, well…" He reached and pulled off his messied shirt, tossing it away. “Wrap your arms around me. Or legs rather. Here." He took hold of her forelegs and lowered himself to his side, raising one of her limbs over. They clasped his chest, the paw pads pressing gently on his bare skin. He smiled. “Now uh…" Why was having trouble getting it out? “Pull me in tight, make sure we're snug and all that."

Supple hide touched against his back, the warmth of her larger body seeping into his own. “Ahhh, that's it," he said.

“Just like this? I just hold you?" she asked.

He chuckled. “Do dragons not lie upon one another from time to time?"

With her hindlegs, she covered his own legs, increasing the completeness of their embrace. “No."

His next breath came sharp, just shy of a gasp. She was warm, so very pleasantly so. Wasn't she supposed to be cold-blooded? It certainly didn't feel like it. His fingers came over her paws, resting on them. This was the first time in his life he had been held this way, as a grown man that is. But if there was shame to be had over it, he felt none. It was too comforting, and it made him feel too secure. Protected even, in a very subconscious, intangible way.

“Do you like this, Erik?"

What? Him? “Of course I do. It's nice. Cuddling always is." He craned his head to look at her. “And you? What about you? Is it all you'd hoped it to be?"

The face of a dragon; so visually captivating. She was a thing of beauty to be sure. And yet she was not human. Somehow, for some cause or another, he didn't care. He was fine enough living in the moment. These self-questioning thoughts could wait.

“Erik…"

“Yes?"

“Why are you looking at me that way?"

He blinked and tilted his head. “I… What way?"

There, in those golden eyes, cresting her pearly white visage like jewels, he spotted that compassion again. But it was directed at him, so singularly, so personally. How had this moment come to be? The surreality of it was jarring, and at the same time, he was never so enthralled by the present, trapped in the ebb and flow of sudden, oncoming emotions. They were sharing intimacy, and although it was under the pretense of exploring simple curiosity, they-

She licked him. On the face. It struck him so absurdly that he almost broke out laughing.

“What on Earth was that?" he asked.

“That's how dragons show affection."

With that, she leaned in close, turning his whole body toward her within her grasp. He laid his hands on her chest, his mouth parted. She nuzzled beneath his chin, beginning to paint his neck with more licks, dragon kisses, he likened them to. His skin felt hot. It was only natural to let it happen.

After tasting his neck, her ministrations travelled south to his chest. “Eva."

She stopped, meeting his gaze. “What are we doing?" He'd been asking himself over and over, but found that he didn't know, nor did he much mind that fact.

“This," she said. “Are we not on the same page here, human? Both of us are willing to explore one another. Affection doesn't have to remain platonic, does it? Don't you feel it? A secret little desire?"

As he digested her words, she continued to kiss and lick his skin, grazing over his trim belly before lingering above his pant-line.

Gods, he did feel it. The feeling he'd harbored since first setting eyes on her. The thought he'd suppressed and pushed away, it now boiled and bubbled stronger than ever. Despite her not being human, despite all of her foreign features, this dragon here was very much attractive to his young, hormonal, male body. In fact, every exotic attribute, the horns, the paws, the teeth, the wings, the hide, he swore it amplified the beauty. It was more to appreciate, more to behold. Her figure was ladylike in its own unique way. He was seeing more and more of the appeal of it. And it was stirring something within him. Deepseated and carnal.

She let him go, Erik lying on the cave floor as she stood. Stepping over him, she positioned herself so that her muzzle nipped at his drawstring, and her sex lingered above his head. It was right there. So shameless and animalistic. It was a slitted vent, smooth like the rest of her hide, except where her belly was gray, her flower was pink.

Just below her tail it lied. It made it just that much more enticing. His arousal was becoming a haze. A haze he delighted getting lost in. To the wind he cast care and concern. This was really happening.

Air breezed over his suddenly exposed legs. He shivered. His pants drew tight around his knees as they were pulled down. Bobbing to attention, his cock stood proud and envigored as her muzzle hung above, a predator waiting to swoop down and catch its prey. He saw her lick her lips.

Gods above, is she really going to…

“You know, I think I missed a spot from earlier, human. Only one way to make sure."

Her tongue, the same tongue which had so sweetly treated his neck, now reached out to caress his member, already surrounding the underside. He groaned aloud. It was wet, hot, and slick across his shaft, stroking up and down.

This manner of affection must have been common between both their species. No matter.

His hands shot to her hindlegs on either side of his head, needing something to hold onto as she took him into her maw.

“Fuck… Oh… You're… This is amazing," he praised.

In reply, she chuckled around her mouthful and took him further, easily sinking down to the very base of his cock, her dragon lips forming an imperfect, but effective seal. It was even hotter inside her maw, but combined with the added pressure, as well as the continued movement of her prehensile tongue about him, it made for something he knew would have him giving his essence soon. Never still for long, she made her first bob up and down, deliberately, carefully. The following bobs were not so. They were purposefully hasty, sloppy, suckling as she went. It was like she was trying to get him to blow as quick as possible.

Her vent came to his attention once more. Maybe, just maybe, he could last if he distracted himself. And to do that, he needed to return the favor. He realized the lethargy that had once racked his body was absent. Was his arousal that strong?

Either way, he told hold of her shapely, dragon rump and pulled down, the touch being enough to let her know exactly what he was pining for. Obliging him, even as she continued to suck and knead his sensitive cock, she lowered her hind down and down until her lips nearly met his. This close up, her musk was picked up even by his relatively weak human nose. Intoxicating, he found it. He pushed his head forward and let his tongue settle upon her entrance. He smirked when her whole body shuddered, and a soft, feminine growl could be heard. The taste was neither pleasant, nor repulsive, but more than anything else, it made him want to eat her.

After a few licks against her engorged lips, he plunged his tongue within her, trying to reach as far in as he could. Immediately he could feel her hot, inner core, vaginal walls clamping down on his invading tongue. Gods, to imagine how it would feel around his throbbing, pulsing cock.

They continued servicing one another, moaning into each other's sexes, suckling and licking away. After some time, he noticed his face had become drenched in her fluids, and that he had become dangerously close to cumming. But still, she kept at him, relentless as her jaw worked his shaft. He pulled away from her cunt.

“Eva, I'm… I'm gonna… soon…"

She pulled off, and the air was cold on his recently slickened cock. The primal, masculine portion of his brain was disappointed, immensely so, until the sexy, illustrious beast that was this dragon turned about. She positioned herself so that her hips straddled his. Her dragon pussy was wet, positively dripping after his lip-service. It triggered a raw, eager sensibility within him, one that craved nothing but sexual release; he wanted to be inside her, and those tight, inviting lips were such a goddamned tease, hanging just above the tip of his throbbing cock.

But as she said earlier, they were on the same page. The question had been answered. There was nothing left to say. And so, without warning she dipped just enough, waiting for his tip to catch between her lips before she sank all the way down.

He gasped. “Oh!" Biting his lips, he looked between their mashing crotches to see her pussy impaled, spread open by his youthful member. “Tight, Gods you are tight, dragon…"

And she truly was. Her grip was maddening, almost too much at once. But then he really took in the sensations, mulling them over in his mind like a complex taste, the flavors being discerned. He felt heat, her body burning like a furnace, perfectly warming his cock. She was already so wet, he'd slipped in without a hitch, and when she began to rise back up, he could feel just how slick her innards were. When his shaft was revealed, it was soaked, glistening with profuse lubrication.

She lowered her hips, planting all paws on the ground for leverage, and then entered a rhythm of slaps and strokes. Pleasure flooded his consciousness, it was too good. Everything about her was deliciously sensual. How had he not acted upon his desires until now?

He watched each time his cock disappeared inside her, only to reappear on the upswing as it was treated to the most blissful of friction. She rode him on and on, a cycle he thought might never end until the precipice was quickly upon him.

“S-shit. I'm… again-"

“I know," she cut in. “I'm- I'm there too."

He took hold of her waist as best he could, wishing to give all he had only these final strokes before the death blow. He wanted every ounce of feel-good he could muster from this unfathomably euphoric experience. He heard her whimper, practically mewling as her inner vaginal muscles clenched and re-clenched with ever-increasing intensity.

“Human," she said. Her eyes bore into his. They were full, wide, and spoke stories of pleasure and carnal indulgence, an arousal as affectionate as it was primordial. He hilted himself one more time inside her. And that's where he stayed as his balls pulled tight, and his delivering vein pulsed. Milking his cock from all sides, her pussy drank the cum that began to erupt from his tip, each spurt thick and virile.

He grit his teeth and grunted throughout the ordeal, head sailing the clouds as he rode out the most powerful climax of his life. But, as with all good things, it came to an end, if not slowly. When he came to, he saw her face, those glazed over eyes, and chuckled weakly, thankful to have given her the same orgasmic finish as she had given him.

“Well?" he said.

She scoffed, panting. “Well what?"

“Would you say understand human affection a little better now?"

She only smiled and planted a sloppy kiss across his face, at which he winced and playfully pushed her head away. Looking down between them, he could see the mess of their combined fluids having covered their groins.

“Without a doubt. But, Erik, if you think my curiosity has been sated, you've quite a surprise ahead of you."

“Really?"

She nodded and hummed. “Just you wait and see."

---

Thank you to the commissioner, Ishmael, who was such a good sport while making this piece. I am not exaggerating when I say this guy was just as instrumental in the creation process as I, the author, was. Pretty much the poster-boy for commissioners on this website, abosultely A1 shit. Anyways, I hope he enjoyed this, and yall secondly.