FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Whitewillow: The Scaled Courtesan

Whitewillow wasn't sure if she had made the right choice coming to Concordia, but the albino dragoness was certain her goddess had a plan. As a holy courtesan of Taishui, the albino dragoness had followed the wordless whispers of her patron goddess her whole life. And though she had never left the tropical warmth of the Zenshin archipelago before, she would boldly go wherever the Eternal Water Dragon guided her.

Concordia was the empire's namesake capital: the Shining Jewel of the North was rich in trade and culture, bringing in abundant wealth from its sprawling megaport in the southern district. The city's towering white walls stood as a staunch reminder to the resilience and ingenuity of human engineering, while the parapet-mounted bombards packed enough punch to ward off even the largest of dragons.

But it was not trade, nor tourism that drew Whitewillow to this city across the sea. News had spread across the sea about growing unrest at the capital. The growing tension of dragon/human coexistence had bloomed into a full-scale social crisis, and the Temple of Husia felt this city was in dire need of the love and harmony that Taishui provided.

It was well known that the dragons of Concordia had a long and bloody history of livestock poaching, pillaging, and man-eating. These foreign skies had borne witness to centuries of bloodshed. It was only after the invention of high-powered firearms that humanity had finally gained a definitive advantage. Spurned by this tenuous peace, Concordians did what they did best: they innovated. The advent of steam technology – engines, automata, and adding machines – ushered in a new age of prosperity. Drawn in by the luxuries and abundant food found within human society, some of the more pragmatic wildborn had become increasingly willing to live among humans. For a time, urban wildborn existed in low numbers, and were loosely tolerated alongside their domesticate bretheren.

However, the roaring success of Dragonwing Express – the daring airborne caravan company – had attracted dragons in droves.

Dragonwing Express was a bold idea from the start: the first dragon-employed company in Concordia's history. Dragons could generate superior thrust to conventional steam engines, required no pilot or crew, and added only a fraction of the weight. Within a few short years, the sight of dragons pulling zeppelin freighters became a symbol of prosperity and progress. The increased trade with neighboring cities spawned a boom of luxury commodities and lavish living standards for humans. And for the first time, a dragon could earn a living wage with which to buy all the food and drink they wished for.

As Dragonwing Express grew, so did their demand for couriers and freight-flyers. Where once, most dragons within the city were domesticates owned by the eccentric and wealthy, now, free wildborn were becoming a common sight in the capital. A social revolution had begun.

Whitewillow touched down in the Hartgrave Memorial Square, deep in the eastern quarter. This open plot of grass and trees was a welcome change of pace from the city's urban sprawl, and many dragons came here to lounge and sunbathe. The occasional human could also be found here. While the majority of the population preferred to avoid areas where dragons gathered, some of the more daring humans looked to capitalize on the growing skyscale population. The open pavilion in the center of the square was a busy place for merchants peddling wares from their wheeled shop carts, and tradesmen offering services in canvas tents. Whitewillow walked by, listening idly to their sales pitches.

"Sullivan and Son's patented dragonscale moisturizers, creams, and polishers! Buff out those nicks and scratches, leave your scales looking like a newborn hatchling!"

"Travel bags for dragons! Wear 'em on your chest, or shoulder. Carry all your valuables within easy reach of your claws!"

"Bad case of dragonbreath? Try Dr. Mortimer's line of mastic gums and chewsticks! Invigorates the senses and cleanses the palette! Now available in cinnamon and clove."

Hartgrave Memorial Square was also a great place for a dragon to grab a quick meal. Street vendors in steam-powered food trucks were a common sight here. Catering exclusively to dragons, these vendors specialized in all the cheap animal products that picky humans didn't normally eat. While pure meat was fine for any meal, Whitewillow missed Zenshin's spicy noodle bowls.

A burly, hairy man with olive skin and a bloody apron clacked his metal spatulas and shouted out from his food truck. Printed pictures of chickens plastered the sides, but the truck was devoid of writing. "Chicken biiiiites! Chicken bites for dragon-sized appetites! I got hearts, I got livers, I got all the giblets a dragon could chomp! Lightly grilled and specially seasoned for the discerning dragon's tongue! Hey, hey! Chicken bites, chicken bites!" The chicken hawker paused when he noticed Whitewillow's pale scales standing out in the crowd. "Whitewillowwww! Your ivory scales are shining today! Ah, you'll blind me with such radiance! How about some chicken bites for the beautiful dragoness?"

Like any proper dragon, Whitewillow took pride in flaunting her exotic beauty, and the chicken hawker's words caught her immediate attention. Yes, her alabaster scales glimmered in the sun with a shimmer that rivaled the most beautiful pearls! Pale stripes ran down her back and flanks – though, as an albino, the only true color on her body was her sanguine eyes. They flashed a clever intelligence and mysterious guile, and drew attention even from afar. Her milky wings fluttered like satin bed sheets, with strong, articulated thumbs for grasping. Whitewillow's finned tail was as long as a human, and gracefully swayed with a mind of its own. And her finned spines – which she could flex on command – gave the dragoness a beautiful yet intimidating presence. Naturally, this chicken-hawker had a good eye for dragons!

Whitewillow approached with a bow of her head. "Rrall, Darius-homn. I have once again succumbed to your insufferable charm."

"Ah, you're too easy! So what'll it be today? Got a whole box of chicken wings this morning. I know you dragons love the crunch!"

"I will take whatever is cheapest, draa-friend. I am famished, but money is scarce."

Darius proudly flashed his golden hoop that once hung from one of Whitewillow's spines. "No no no no, silly dragon! I had this appraised, and you still got a few more meals on your tab." He turned around and scooped up a double portion of sizzling chicken parts off the griddle. "Take it, take it!" He passed her a large wooden bowl.

Whitewillow fanned her spines in flattery as she took the bowl between her front feet. "Chaas roh. Much graciousness, draa-friend. You are too generous."

Darius waved the notion off. "Aww, it's nothing."

Whitewillow churred in happiness. Humans were such wonderful, whimsical creatures! Sure, they suffered from ridiculous prejudices and bigotry, but they didn't need a reason to be kind, either. Kindness was a virtue in human society; amongst dragons, it had to be earned. Even though Whitewillow had spent most of her years amongst humans, they still found ways to surprise and delight her.

As Whitewillow ate, she stepped aside for other dragons looking for a quick lunch. "What is the current word within the walls of Concordia?"

Darius whirled around, his metal spatulas clinging as they chopped and flipped on his flat top griddle. The air carried the aroma of poultry, peppercorn, rosemary, lemon juice … and a hefty dose of garlic, because all dragons loved garlic. "Front page of today's Concordian Chronicle was screaming about the triple murder on Cockleberry Lane last night. Some upstart drake killed three men in front of the Dark Horse Grille. Witnesses claim the dragon struck first. A wildborn Ridgeback named Kodakoa. The Dragon Hunter's Guild put out quite the bounty on his head."

Whitewillow felt her stomach churn at this news. She finished chewing her chicken hearts before speaking. "Kodakoa … I know this draa."

"You do!?"

The dragoness paused eating, looking down at her bowl of chicken in sadness. "I allowed him under my tail. He has much zussu in his heart, which I tried to mend. It is a shame he chose this path."

Darius applied more lard to the griddle, causing the delightful sizzle of melting fat that made Whitewillow salivate. "Well, the local dragons have been claiming that it was self defense, so you never know. Newspapers aren't the most reliable source of information."

The dragoness fluttered her spines in whimsy. "How backwards homn society is: you create a system of mass communication, and you cannot even trust it."

He shrugged. "I suppose there's more money in lies than truths."

"Life does not need to work in this way. Lies are ssithiss – filthy, wicked, loathsome things. You homn are capable of being better."

Dariuus raised a brow. "Humph. Oddly noble thing for a dragon to say, but I can't argue." He paused to serve the next two dragon customers. "Now here's what the papers won't tell you: things are heating up between the bloodlines. Cracked Shell has been ramping up their aggression, claiming more territory and harassing the humans there. Mossmoor has their claws full trying to intervene – they want to put on a good face, to show the humans that dragons can coexist."

"Fahr draa gnu!" Whitewillow huffed. "Mossmoor are pragmatic, not altruistic: without homn like you, the draa would not last one week."

"Don't I know it! But I heard whispers that with Mossmoor busy, Star Scry started encroaching on their territory again. There's been a lot of violence down near King's Crossing and White Wald Road. And I'm sure the other clans are looking to sweep up the crumbs."

The albino dragoness shook her head. Such petty power struggles were an inevitable part of dragon society. The matriarch of a brood marked her egg line by biting out notches on their offspring's wings or tailfin, and these marked ones spend their entire lives defined by those notches. A culture built on the prestige of one's egg line was destined for eternal chaos, and Whitewillow detested it all. This was but one of many reasons why the dragoness preferred the company of humans.

"Fah! When will the Kaazt Domuu learn that there is more to gain by working together?"

"Beats me! I just sell chicken." Darius began to call out to the passing dragons. "Chicken biiiiites! Come get your chicken bites! Lightly seared, still tender on the inside: perfect for a healthy dragon's digestion! Hey you: the dragoness in purple and tan! Your scales are gorgeous. You want a full belly, pretty thing? Every purple dragon gets a discount!" The dragoness – a Bluefin Zephryn in a rare shade of lavender – paused in the crowd, then happily made her way over. Darius leaned toward Whitewillow and whispered. "You were right. It's amazing how easy this works."

Whitewillow wiggled her spines in delight. "Narthuus! I told you: no draa can resist a quick stroke of the ego." She stepped aside, letting the lavender dragoness place her order. When she had finished, Whitewillow leaned her head under the truck's canopy. "And what about you, draa-friend? Have you changed your mind on the offer?" she hushed.

Darius turned his back to Whitewillow as he washed some bowls in the sink. "Oh … oh, this is your raashka thing! Not this again."

Whitewillow pouted. "You wound my pride, human! But you can make it up to me with a kiss."

"You're barking up the wrong tree, dragon."

"One night is all I ask, draa-friend. We can explore at your pace, experiment in any way you want." Whitewillow flitted out her tongue.

"The wife would kill me if I came home smelling like dragon pussy."

"I would be happy to help you bathe afterward," she churred.

"Aye, you're a shameless flirt, aren't ya?"

"The most shameless in all Concordia!"

"Well the answer's still no."

Whitewillow flexed her spines. "I will settle for some scaly cuddles under the bedsheets."

Darius shook his head. "Listen Whitewillow, I get hit on once a week on average, and I all tell 'em the same thing: between a big scaly dragon and the wife, I'm more scared of the wife."

Whitewillow bowed her head. "Very well: she may join if she so wishes."

"Ha! I'm pretty sure she'd sooner divorce me."

"There's no harm in asking, draa-friend."

"You don't know the wife."

Whitewillow graciously conceded with a flex of her spines. "Marthaax, roh toth gnar. But know that the offer will always be open, should you change your mind." As much as the dragoness disliked the concept of monogamy, she knew better than to tread upon humanity's most sacred customs. She turned in her empty bowl and performed a full bow, splaying her wings wide.

"Your meal was appreciated, Darius-homn, and your news was helpful. One more question: does the Dragon Hunter's Guild know where Kodakoa roosts?"

"No clue. You'd have to ask them – without getting shot. Good luck with that."

"Grnkuu. I wish you an auspicious day, draa-friend."

"Hey, I'm here until seven. Stop by later!"

Whitewillow turned away, feeling her soul swell with divine inspiration. This news of Kodakoa buzzed in her mind. She had kindly laid with this Ridgeback multiple times in an attempt to ease the zussu in his heart. The pompous drake had no concept of gentleness nor passion, approaching lovemaking with the sophistication of a rutting stag. But even in the most loveless, inelegant acts of sex, Whitewillow could still find some modicum of raashka.

The dragoness tried not to blame herself for Kodakoa's actions, but it was clear that her attempts to cleanse his zussu were not aggressive enough. The death of three humans was inexcusable in this tense social climate. Though it pained her, Whitewillow felt Taishui guiding her moral compass: in the name of harmony and peace, Kodakoa must be held accountable.

The Dragon Hunter's Guild would surely like to know where his roost lay, and Whitewillow had been there more than once. If she could extend an olive leaf to the guild, her newfound good reputation would open up auspicious opportunities. That zussu-infested guild was full of humans with their hearts hardened to dragons, and Whitewillow yearned to share the light of raashka with them. The albino dragoness had always believed that the hardest-to-reach fruit tasted the sweetest. And who knows: a guild member could be a useful ally as well.

Whitewillow walked down Attenborough Alley, distancing herself from the flight of dragons crowding the square. As soon as she had a clear road, the dragoness spread her milky white wings and took off running. As the wind filled her wings, she flapped hard, putting air underneath her. Her destination was the opposite side of the city: the Dragon Hunter's Guild in the old western quarter. It would take her at least ten minutes.

Flight was technically illegal within the city's walls, unless one wore the ridiculous fluorescent streamers that identified the wearer as a Concordian citizen. However, most wildborn refused to wear anything at all, so this law was only rarely enforced.

Unlike domesticates, who were raised by humans and accustomed to living among them, wildborn were unfamiliar with the complicated laws of human society, and proudly unwilling to submit to human authority. Indignant wildborn created a wave of civic unrest: disorderly conduct, assault, shoplifting, arson, and public indecency. And if the police came to arrest them, they'd simply fly away. Concerned citizens held protests outside the royal citadel - angry mobs demanding the king to kick these lawless beasts out. But by the time that anti-dragon sentiment reached a fever pitch, inter-city trade had grown increasingly reliant on Dragonwing Express, and expelling the caravan's workforce would have been catastrophic to the economy. King Edwin instead decreed that all city dragons must apply for second-class citizenship, granting limited rights under regular supervision. These tepid measures satisfied neither side, and years had passed without a better solution.

As word spread of Concordia's "dragon problem", Zenshin took notice. Four weeks ago, Emperor Zhun sent a delegation across the Great Sea, to advise King Edwin on human/dragon relations and ease social tensions. Whitewillow had sailed on that same ship, and remembered well how high in spirits the imperial delegation had been. But Emperor Zhun's decision, however good-natured, had the opposite effect. The presence of a foreign advisor in the King's court – and one so blatantly dracophilic – caused even more controversy among the people of Concordia. Most talk on the subject quickly devolved into political squabbling interspaced with various foul terms for Zenshinites.

The Temple of Husia had naively shared in the delegation's optimism: surely, only one holy courtesan was needed, the Council had said! At the time, Whitewillow had felt blessed to be chosen. But she, too, was unprepared for the depravity of Concordia's social climate. The Temple had given her a paltry amount of coin for food and personal expenses, expecting the dragoness to earn goodwill in exchange for performing her priestly duties – an ancient practice called "tithing". But the few humans willing to share intimacy were unfamiliar with this custom, and many of Whitewillow's finned spines were missing their golden hoops.

Whitewillow had made depressingly little headway in bringing peace and harmony into the hearts of Concordians. A courtesan of her prestige should be spending her days laying with the influential elite, using her proximity to power to spread her raashka to the population. But no Concordian noble would dare to even consider taking a dragon into their bed! Instead of rubbing scales with nobility, Whitewillow was homeless and scrounging for whatever mates she could find. It was clear within a day that no priestess could overcome this much zussu alone. Such a task would require a miracle! The dragoness had already written several stern letters back to the temple, and was impatiently waiting for a response to arrive from across the sea.

Concordia was a rough place for a dragon, and moreso for a foreigner. Instead of bowing in respect, many Concordians regarded her with the sort of contempt reserved for mangy vermin: they kept their distance, regarded her with leery gazes, and muttered insults from afar. She was spat on more than once. And neither did the local dragons accept her: as a Zenshin Lionsmane, her streamlined body shape and vibrant tail fin stuck out like a sore thumb. She didn't even smell like a Concodian skyscale! Unsurprisingly, the local wildborn treated her with suspicion and coldness.

Whitewillow regularly struggled to find food, shelter, and most importantly of all: open-minded humans. Even with all her assets, the dragoness had trouble finding prospective lovers. In fact, her stunning white scales and exquisite jewelry drew more negative attention than anything else. She had only just touched down in the western quarter, and had already drawn the attention of the local law enforcement.

"You there, dragon. Stop!"

Whitewillow growled in displeasure, her spines folding flat against her scales. This happened to her at least once a week. Whitewillow turned to face the approaching constable, who cantered forth on his steed and came to a clopping stop in the square.

She bowed politely and splayed her wings wide. "Rrall, officer-homn."

The constable wrinkled his nose. "Do you speak Common Tongue?"

Whitewillow flicked her forked tongue out. "I speak it very well."

"Present your citizenship for inspection."

Huffing with disdain, Whitewillow drew her wing thumb to her shoulder, fishing out a scroll from her travel pouch. "My papers, human."

The constable unfurled the scroll with a look of bewilderment on his face. He was expecting the amulet of citizenship that Concordian dragons were issued. They were supposed to be worn around the neck at all times, though most wildborn detested the idea of wearing anything at all.

"What is this?" he asked, passing his thumb over the ink stamp of the Zenshin Sigil. Not a familiar sight for most Concordians.

"Taro-nii. My passport. I am but a humble servant of Taishui hailing from the Zenshin Empire."

"Dragon tourists … hmpf, that's a new one for me." He murmured, continuing to study the passport. "Are you here for business, or pleasure?"

Whitewillow fanned her many spines. "My, what a marvelous question! I suppose both."

"Are you currently accepting work without proof of citizenship?"

"No."

"To your knowledge, do you currently have any bounties or outstanding debts?"

"No."

"Are you currently carrying any illegal drugs, including opium, muskweed, selkie pheromones, or Jak'kar katzenminze?"

Whitewillow let out a huff. "No."

"Are you affiliated with the Cracked Shell clan?"

Whitewillow wondered why he would ask. "Of course not. I was born in Zenshin, and I claim no egg-line."

The constable, satisfied with the authenticity of the scroll, returned it to her. "Everything seems in order. But remember: you must apply for Concordian citizenship before you are allowed to take on work."

Whitewillow bowed her head. "Of course, human."

The constable apathetically tipped his hat. "As you were."

As he turned away, Whitewillow laid a wing on his thigh. "By the way, are you currently tied down with a mate?"

"What!? No!" The constable batted away her wing.

"Narthuus!" she churred with excitement. "Have you ever been curious to share your bed with a dragoness?"

"That's disgusting. And attempting to accost an officer of the law is a class three offense. I could get you deported, dragon." The constable hitched his horse and cantered off with a huff. Whitewillow stood there, watching his horse as it disappeared into the crowd.

Whitewillow sighed, her many spines drooping with disappointment. She could ask a fellow dragon to mate and would get a straight answer immediately. But with these humans, there was so much social convention one must tiptoe around, so much judgment involved. Many considered her offers akin to laying with beasts! It annoyed Whitewillow constantly. Back in Zenshin, the legend of Taishui's harem of a thousand humans was a well-known tale, and while not every Zenshinite wished to lay with a dragon, they at least didn't treat the idea with utter revulsion.

Muttering a prayer to put her mind at ease, the alabaster dragoness continued on her way through the western quarter: the business heart of Concordia.

Nestled somewhere along the quarrelsome merchant consortiums and administrative offices of Weyard Street was the Dragon Hunter Guild's main fortress. This ancient bastion was built out of sturdy stone and mortar, rather than the more modern concrete of the surrounding buildings. Its intimidating towers served as a harsh reminder for every dragon that they were one altercation away from a bounty on their heads.

For most dragons, the guild's towering fortress was a symbol of oppression. However, Whitewillow saw its grim halls as but one half of an ugly coin. For every free dragon that lived in the capitol, there were a dozen feral wildborn that prowled the untamed wilderness of Concordia's rolling fields and craggy mountains. Some still clung to the old ways of livestock poaching and caravan crashing, through necessity, opportunity, or spite. Bullets and blast bombs aside, humans were notoriously weak creatures, and their livestock easy meals. Thus, the Dragon Hunter's Guild was never short on work.

For security purposes, dragons were prohibited in the city blocks around the Dragon Hunter's Guild. And Whitewillow knew better than to test the vigilance of the trigger-happy guards. She must wait for a hunter to come to her.

Thus, the albino dragoness loitered at the edge of Weyard Street, biding her time by preening her wings. The tiny pores on her wings secreted oils, which she nuzzled and licked into her leathery patagium. Dragons were fastidious groomers, and preening was instinctively a comforting, relaxing pastime for them. And due to her station as a holy courtesan, Whitewillow was particularly concerned with her cleanliness.

By the time she was nearly finished, Whitewillow spotted two hunters making their way toward the square. One was a young, glasses-wearing male she had seen before. He carried himself with youthful excitement, appearing wide-eyed and possibly malleable. Whitewillow thought him a squire apprenticing under one of the mercenaries of the Guild. This human was accompanied by an older female: a veteran of rough cut, short hair, and hardened gaze.

Even without their longneck rifles and trademark lances, dragon hunters were unmistakable at a glance by their dragon tooth necklaces. Those necklaces were the mark of a hunter who had made their first kill, and hunters wore them with pride.

Whitewillow knew to tread carefully. This wasn't her first attempted discourse with a hunter, and she hoped it would go better than the last time. Any human who spent their lives hunting dragons would no doubt be wary of a dragon encounter, regardless of the circumstances. And for good reason: Whitewillow could not deny that her fellow skyscales elevated grudges to an artform.

Whitewillow made her way across the cobblestone street, weaving through the constant flow of pedestrians and steam-powered carts. Before the dragoness had even gotten close enough to introduce herself, she noticed the female watching her, her hand gravitating toward her holstered revolver. Whitewillow stepped in front of the pair and gave a formal bow with wings splayed wide.

"Rrall, homn-kin! Friendly greetings, hunters. My name is Whitewillow. I am a Priestess of Taishui: devoted follower of the Eternal Water Dragon – patron goddess of love and harmony."

Whitewillow extended a wing, graciously offering her palm as a human may do. She waited for one of them to extend a hand in friendship. Neither did.

Shaking off the awkwardness with grace, the alabaster dragoness ruffled her wings and stood upright. "The pleasure is mine, fair humans."

"It certainly seems that way," the female muttered.

"And you are?"

"In a hurry." The female began walking past the dragon.

"Grull nasii," Whitewillow lifted her tail high, blocking the two's path with a fan of her fins. "I have but a humble request to talk. I can make it worth your while."

The female sighed. "Make it quick."

"I have knowledge of the orgrimmdraa your guild is tasked with, and would like to offer assistance."

"Orgrimmdraa …" the male murmured in recognition. "That triple homicide last night?"

"Shhh," the female hissed. "We don't talk about bounties. Especially not with dragons."

"Sorry, Lilian."

Whitewillow fanned her spines and bowed her head to the male. "Faah thi roh gnaar fel! I admire your glottal pronunciation, human. This draa has taken me to his roost many times, and I would be more than willing to show you where."

Lilian laughed. "If you think you can get in on the bounty, you're mistaken."

Whitewillow shook her head. "Money is of no concern to me. I pledge my assistance to this bounty freely."

"Suspicious," the male muttered.

"We're handling it. And we certainly wouldn't let a dragon help."

"What is being done?" Whitewillow asked.

"What do you think, firebat?"

Whitewillow felt her stomach churn. Was she too late? Had Kodakoa already been slain? "Quall-fek, maah suss sith baal."

"Hey!" the male objected.

"What'd she say?"

"She called you a dirty little goat."

Whitewillow's eyes narrowed on the male human's. "You speak draa-thuus. Impressive."

"I dabble," the male glared back.

"Kriss-mar. My apologies." Whitewillow supplicated, humbly bowing her head and splaying her wings. "Please, dear humans: as a priestess and homn-friend, my intentions are noble. Let me lead you to Kodakoa's roost."

Lilian leaned toward the male human. "And what do we say when a dragon promises you something for free?"

"We say 'fuck off'." He nodded.

Whitewillow hissed in frustration, though she understood that these hunters had every reason to not trust a dragon. "This is no trick, dear humans. Kodakoa roosts at Tailwind shelters, west wing, 14C. You can check without me if you so wish."

"No way in hell we would go deep into dragon territory on a whim. Not even if you promised your entire hoard."

"Well …" the male muttered, his mind wandering to treasure.

Whitewillow snorted, her grace wearing thin. Why must hunters make everything so difficult!? "I have no hoard; my body is my only possession. If you let me help, I would happily offer you it in return."

The male human let out a nervous laugh. "Whaaaaaat?!"

"Oh, you're kidding me."

Whitewillow held her snout high. "I am a holy courtesan of Taishui, and have trained in the carnal pleasures of human intimacy."

Lilian grabbed her head. "Gods, you dragons are always so horny!"

Whitewillow looked her in the eye. "Have you never considered the boons of laying with a draa? My long tongue can caress you endlessly until you are begging me to stop."

Lilian rolled her eyes. "I'm begging you to stop right now."

"Ferus grn fek! And what about you, male hunter?" Whitewillow turned her snout his way, fanning her finned spines. "You have hardly said a word. Are you shy, or are you too enchanted to speak? Rrrrrr, perhaps you may like to experience my tongue for yourself. All you need to do is say yes. I promise not to bite … unless you ask nicely."

The male human's cheeks flushed red, but before he could answer, the female got in Whitewillow's face. "There's no chance we'd lay with an animal like you. I think we're done here."

"Noble draa are a far cry from beasts, human."

Lilian scowled. "Tell that to my brother. As a child, I watched him get eaten as he tried defending our sheep from a family of hungry Thorntails." She spat upon the ground. "You're just a beast that can talk."

Whitewillow's spines drooped. "I am sorry. Truly. What was done was inexcusably evil."

Lilian seemed surprised to hear such a genuine apology, but she didn't show it for long. "Yeah, well, you think hunters like me get into this job for fun? I took an oath to protect humanity from that evil, and the last thing I need is a horny little serpent getting in the way." She grabbed the male by the arm. "Come on, Tristan. Let's get lunch."

Lilian forced him to start walking. Whitewillow shook her head in disdain, causing her many spines to clatter. But as the two humans continued on, the younger male looked back briefly at Whitewillow with a wide-eyed glance.

That look told her everything she needed to know.

"Tristan …" Whitewillow murmured. She'd have to remember that name.

–=-=–

Whitewillow spent the remainder of the day stalking the male human from afar. This Tristan was now her prey, and Whitewillow's draconic instincts were too possessive to ever let prey escape her clutches. As he spent the afternoon in the halls of the Dragon Hunter's Guild, Whitewillow perched on nearby buildings, passing the time by praying to Taishui for guidance.

And when she was not praying, Whitewillow was meditating on all the wonderful pleasures of the flesh she could share with him. She would seduce this human, make him moan her name, and bask in the raashka they create together. Sooner or later he would open up, and they could find Kodakoa together. Maybe after enough orgasms, he could even be her eyes and ears within the Dragon Hunter's Guild! Whitewillow's tailtip curled and writhed with glee.

By the time Tristan had finished his work at the Guild, the sun was already low in the sky. Whitewillow glided from rooftop to rooftop, following him to a multi-chambered roost for humans who could not afford their own house. Confined by her massive walls, the capital was tight on living space, and some of these apartment complexes towered as high as six stories tall. The poorer you were, the higher up you lived, requiring the traversal of dozens of stairs. It was a shame these humans couldn't simply fly straight up to their roosts, like she was doing right now.

It took Whitewillow peeking into quite a bit of windows before she found the right one. The six floor, where a fall could be dangerous. The dragoness needed all four of her legs and both wings to grasp onto the side of the concrete building. Her long talons clawed at the concrete building, searching for footholds. The dragon's wings closed slowly with a gentle woosh, and latched on to the windowsill.

"Rrall, Tristan-homn!"

"Gods, what the hell!?"

Tristan jumped nearly out of his bed, and the book he was reading went tumbling to the rug with a soft thump. He looked up to see a dragon's head sticking through his open window, the white scales and spiny fins glowing a pale orange in the lamplight.

"What in the absolute fuck are you doing here?!"

"Saying hello!"

"Get the hell out of here, dragon!" He rushed to the window, slamming the shutters in her face.

The alabaster dragoness nudged them back open with a shove of her snout. "Dar-maa siss. That was not very polite."

"You shouldn't be here!" he hissed. "Fly away!"

Whitewillow flexed her spines. "Earlier, you said baal means goat. That is only half true."

"What are you talking about?"

"Baal is a pejorative. It means goat, but more accurately, it means a miserable wretch. Your Lilian is a baal. I pity her."

"That's fascinating. Now please get out of here. Someone will see you!"

Whitewillow growled with annoyance. "Kaast rel fek. I have come to tell you that my offer still stands."

"No way! Lilian was right: it's not only foolish to get another dragon involved in a bounty, it's unethical."

Whitewillow had to tread carefully. This human wouldn't open up without proper encouragement. "The orgrimmdraa bounty matters little at present. I am more interested in the prospect of sharing your bed tonight."

Tristan's eyes opened wide. "I thought you were joking."

"Absolutely not!" The dragoness cleared her throat and fanned her spines with a flourish. "I am a holy courtesan of Taishui: pleasure is my trade. I may be large, but we can figure out a way to share that bed of yours."

Tristan's cheeks turned beet red, and Whitewillow again wondered why it was that the humans here got so upset at her plain language of lovemaking.

"Oh, no … no thank you." He closed the shutters again. "I've thought about that, and I've decided not to accept."

She opened the shutters again with a noisy creak. "Ah, so you have thought about it. Ferrdus! Do tell me more: what sort of things have you fantasized about? Did you fantasize stroking my tail," she churred, "Petting my scaly belly, watching my haunches wiggle in delight …"

"I fantasized about being kicked out of the Guild! I'd rather not throw away my career, so if you could please leave my apartment, I'd appreciate it, thank you." He slammed the shutters closed.

"Oh, human," Whitewillow churred, opening the shutters. She liked this one already. The flustered ones were always the funnest to play with. "You will not get rid of me that easily. The draa are a proud and stubborn race."

"Believe me, I know!" Tristan slammed the shutters once more. "How did you even find me?"

Whitewillow opened the shutters. "I followed your attractive musk," she teased.

Tristan pushed her snout back out the window and closed it once more. He then lifted an arm and took a whiff of his armpit, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

The ivory-scaled dragoness nudged the shutters once more, finding that he had locked them. Her talons were starting to ache from digging into the nooks and crannies on the wall. "Silsus homn, let me in."

"Absolutely not. You're a dragon."

"I know! Is that not wonderful?"

She pushed again with more force, causing the latch to clatter. Her talons slipped on the shear wall, creating loud scratching noises as streams of concrete dust fell like snow.

"Hey, stop that!" He began to push on his side of the shutters, keeping the dragon out.

Whitewillow growled, putting more weight against the shutters until the wood began to groan. "Worry not about your silly guild … you could lay me a thousand times … and I would never … tell … a soul! Rrrrrrrah!"

Whitewillow threw open the shutters with excessive force, causing Tristan to tumble backward onto his bed. The wooden shutters ripped from their hinges and fell to the ground with a slam.

"Chissss …" Whitewillow hissed – the dragon equivalent of "Oops."

Suddenly, there came a knocking on the wall, and a muffled voice yelling at everyone to quiet down.

"Auuugh! The landlord will charge me for that!" Tristan hissed. "You better pay up."

"I have no money. But I can pay with my body," she churred.

By now Tristan's cheeks had turned scarlet, though Whitewillow wasn't sure if it was from arousal or anger. "Just get out of here, before one of my neighbors calls the police!"

"You would deny the services of a professional courtesan?"

"I would deny the services of a scaly beast!"

Whitewillow growled. "Roh noll faar tekuu chaarst ruu, homn!"

Tristan shrunk back at the sight of her bared teeth. "I didn't mean it like that!"

Whitewillow shook her head, causing her spines to rattle. "You are forgiven. I know you desire me, human. I can see it in the way you avert your gaze, and how you tense up with temptation when I tease you. I sense your passion burning inside of you, just waiting to burst forth. As a priestess of Taishui, I give my love freely, to all that may need it."

"Nobody needs to have sex with a dragon!"

Whitewillow flitted out her tongue. "I disagree."

The dragoness attempted to climb in through the window, managing to squeeze one foreleg through the window and onto the wooden floor. But she soon found herself stuck at her broad wing shoulders. Despite the awkwardness of the position, the proud dragoness acted as if she wasn't bothered by having three quarters of her body hanging out the window.

"Rrf … Nng. Come here, human. Let's start with a friendly nuzzle."

"No."

The dragoness wiggled further inside. "Rrr, we both know you want to say yes."

"No!"

Whitewillow growled and squirmed in the window frame. "I am Whitewillow of the Temple Husia: holy courtesan of the Eternal Water Dragon, and I swear upon my horns to fulfill every desire you might have!"

Tristan could hear loud scratching noises as her talons raked the side of the building. "Are you stuck?"

"No …" Whitewillow wiggled in vain, then reluctantly let go of her draconic ego with a sigh. "… yes. You homn make your windows too small for draa to enter them."

"That's by design!" Tristan said, beginning to smile. "Gods, you look silly. I wish I owned a photography set."

Whitewillow snarled. "You would not dare capture this moment of shame!"

Tristan gestured grandly to Whitewillow. "Behold: the mighty dragon! Apex of predators, scourge of the skies, terror of mankind! Defeated by a window."

Whitewillow's draconic ego got the better of her, and puffs of smoke blasted from her nose. "Sithiss suul fen," she growled. "You wound me, human."

"Oh come on, that was funny."

The dragoness ducked her head, avoiding eye contact. Unlike most of her kind, she was familiar with humanity's sense of humor, and she forced herself to not take the slight personally. "It was … mildly funny."

Tristan laughed, and tension in the room seemed to wane. Whitewillow adjusted the grip of her footholds, making loud scratching noises. Tristan looked at his feet, mulling over something he felt he shouldn't do. "Um, listen, I've never met a dragon that was so …"

Whitewillow fanned her many spines. "Alluring? Titillating? Intoxicatingly beautiful?"

" … friendly," Tristan finally settled on, much to Whitewillow's disappointment. "I've encountered a number of dragons in my time with the guild, but I've never had an honest conversation with one." He paused. "Wanna go for a stroll? I feel like going for a stroll. Let's go for a stroll."

"AAAAAAUGH! A DRAGON'S ON THE BUILDING!"

The shout came from the window a floor below.

"Kaali maa, homn! Now would be a good time."

–=-=–

The huddled shops and taverns that lined Ox's Way spilled warm light onto the street. And though Whitewillow preferred the elegant paper lamps of Zenshin to the ugly gas streetlights of Concordia, they certainly shone brighter. Above her, the evening sky was awash with colors: the crimson rays of dying light painted the sky, and the golden billowy cloud tops and their dusky purple bottoms hung suspended in the air.

The uneven cobblestone streets of Concordia were harsh on a dragon's foot pads. Whitewillow preferred the smooth, macadamized roads of Zenshin, though in truth she preferred flying over either. For now, she was content to stroll in the evening air alongside this human, if only just to size him up before she seduced him properly.

Whitewillow had never strolled this part of Concordia before. Compared to the impoverished neighborhoods surrounding Dragonwing Express, the western quarter felt almost like another city entirely. The roads were newer and well-maintained, with tracks for steam-powered streetcars that connected to the center city districts. Trees and bushes flanked the sidewalks, which were populated almost entirely by humans. Dragons were an uncommon sight here, especially at this time of night.

Ox's Way was crammed with a plethora of restaurants and shops to browse. However, most of the doors had hastily-made signs put up: a symbol of a dragon's head with a slash through it. Underneath was painted the words "NO DRAGONS", for the few domesticates that were literate. Signs like these were common in the more well-off areas of the city. They were a constant reminder that Whitewillow was not welcome here, and she hated it.

Tristan, however, was full of delight. A chance to talk with a friendly dragon, without judgment or spite! As a guildmate, he was usually vilified the moment a dragon spotted his necklace. So who knows what he could learn from this dragoness? The scientist in him was hyperactive. He took in everything about Whitewillow: her behavior, her language patterns, her beliefs, even her scent. She was surprisingly nice-smelling for a dragon, and he was certain she used perfume of some sort, even though he had never heard of a dragon using perfume before. This scaly beast was full of mysteries, and that intrigued him. He was so giddy that he couldn't stop talking.

"… and then Lilian grabs me by the collar and says 'What do you mean, there's two?' We look back to the wagon and see the other Jak'kar take off with our rifles in his paws! So here's this mangy cat beast scampering away on his hind legs with a pair of rifles longer than he is. And Lilian takes off after him shrieking 'THAT'S MY FAVORITE GUN'!" Tristan started to wheeze with laughter. "But Jak'kar are fast little devils, so of course she can't catch him. Lilian gets so angry that she starts kicking the wagon wheels and screaming every curse the gods have ever heard. And I'm still laying there, the paralytic blow dart still in my neck, my coin purse missing, and my body all covered in cat hair and scratches … and all I could think was 'the furry little bastards even took my underwear!'"

Whitewillow chuffed laughter. "I enjoy any story in which the baal gets her comeuppance."

Tristan winced. "Yeeaaah, Lilian's a bit of a hard-nosed bitch. Not so bad once you get to know her. But that would never happen for you, no offense."

"That only increases my desire to cure her zussu," she churred.

Tristan laughed awkwardly, unsure of what she actually meant by that.

"Did you get the weapons back?"

"Gods, no. Who knows what the Jak'kar did with them. Probably sold them, or melted down the steel to make armor." Tristan let out a long sigh. "I can't believe I'm doing this: walking alongside a dragon, sharing stories like it's completely normal."

Whitewillow rolled her eyes – a human mannerism she had adopted. "You should try talking to draa more often."

"Ha! They don't talk back to me."

Whitewillow walked in silence for a moment. If only there were more dragons like herself – dragons that were willing to set aside their prejudices. Even back in her homeland, she preferred the company of humans. Dragons tended to get caught up in their social pecking order, always looking for ways to prove themselves and fluff their own ego. Whitewillow never cared for the constant posturing of her own kind, and preferred to suppress that draconic impulse within herself.

Wildborn culture was built on trust and reputation, and as a foreigner, Whitewillow had no reputation. She had to always watch her tongue, constantly pay respects to superiors, and behave deferential to others even in the face of scorn. The dragoness had to supplicate herself before she could even earn the respect of being talked to!

But with humans – like this Tristan – she could relax and speak her mind.

"You are an odd hunter, human. You do not seem to hate the draa."

Tristan whistled. "Welllll, I've always been fascinated by dragons. Even as a kid, I used to pretend I owned one. You're such alien creatures: so mysterious and unknowable, yet you're one of the few sapient beings capable of speaking Common Tongue. There's so much we could learn from your kind, if only we sat down and talked. There are large parts of dragon culture that we still don't understand!"

"I am more than happy to share my culture with you tonight, human," she churred.

Tristan was too distracted to notice the sensual tone in the dragon's deep voice. "Really? That's wonderful! But let's wait until I have my field journal on me. I'll have to take notes!"

Whitewillow sighed in whimsy. She had not met many Concordians as interested in dragons as this Tristan was. It sounded like he would be much easier to seduce than anticipated. Taishui must be so pleased! A friendly dragon hunter would be an extremely useful asset for any dragon to own.

And he was pretty cute, too! His short blond hair and circular glasses framed his narrow face quite nicely, and the stubble on his chin and cheeks looked fun to run her tongue over …

"How did a homn like you end up in such a sordid job of draa slaying?"

"Ever since the dragon citizenship laws, the Dragon Hunter's Guild has been desperate for young blood. They recruited me right out of college."

Whitewillow folded her spines against her back. "You joined the guild to kill what you love?"

"What? No!" Tristan laughed. "I'm a field scholar, not a hunter! The guild does more than kill dragons, you know! Field scholars study everything there is to know about dragons: their biology, their behavior, their society … we're putting that knowledge to a good use, so the guild can handle urban dragons with more nuance."

"More nuanced than killing draa in the streets?" she growled.

Tristan winced. "Well, for the first time in Concordian history, dragons can become citizens. And it's illegal to shoot citizens, even if they have scales! The guild has been forced to explore more diplomatic solutions. That's why they have me learning dragonspeak."

Whitewillow huffed. Of course, these hunters would only change their ways out of necessity. Smaller bounties could be paid off, or cleared in exchange for temporarily revoking a dragon's citizenship (and the right to work). These were the only ways the human government could exert control over dragons. No prison was built to hold them, and no dragon would ever go willingly.

"So you do not hunt us."

"That's Lilian's area of expertise," Tristan confessed. "I'm more of a scientist than a hunter. Received my degree in biology at King's College."

"You can study my biology all you wish, human," Whitewillow teased.

Tristan swallowed hard and tried to ignore how that made him feel. "I, um … I've always wanted to study practical purposes for the fluids in a dragon's flame sacs. Chemistry, fabrication, potential medicinal purposes. There's so many applications! But I haven't had much opportunity to pursue my research yet. Lilian still has me in training. Every guild member must learn how to defend themselves."

"That baal has you training to kill draa?"

Tristan's eyes tore away from her. "Only the bad ones."

Whitewillow snorted. "Thasus ssith. And what of bad homn? You don't kill them."

"We have the court system for that."

"But you do not arrest bad draa, only homn."

"What dragon would willingly submit to human authority when they can just fly away from the police?"

Whitewillow knew better than to answer that. "Perhaps, more draa would submit to human authority if human authority treated them with respect."

"And perhaps, we'd treat dragons with more respect if they started obeying our laws," he countered.

Whitewillow opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was true that dragons were proud, and they didn't like being told what to do. They saw humans as lesser creatures: weak, vulnerable, and slow moving prey who invented things to make up for their many embarrassing shortcomings, like their complete lack of tails. The complex laws of human society may be difficult to learn, but many dragons didn't respect humanity enough to even try. Whitewillow grew up surrounded by humans, and knew well their capacity for nobility and grace. Unfortunately, she couldn't force other dragons to see that. She could only control what the humans thought of her.

"Coexistence is possible, human. I live it every day in Zenshin."

Tristan stopped in his tracks. "Zenshin!? You're from across the sea?"

The tropical archipelago of Zenshin was so far across the sea that few in Concordia had ever visited. Tristan himself knew little of Zenshin, aside from what he had heard in passing. Their citizens were fond of fishing, painting, and poetry, and they smoked out of large pipes. Both the men and women wore strange dresses that had to be tied up around the waist. Their cities were connected by convoluted networks of rivers, in which the wingless river dragons swam. And those dragons were worshiped in ancient times.

The alabaster dragoness bowed her head. "Shi chitinugi, n'giri nii toko. That is the Zenshin sun pledge. When the morning sun breaks the horizon, it is tradition to bask in its rays and repeat that phrase, offering our spiritual strength to the Emperor."

Tristan's jaw dropped. Whitewillow's pronunciation was flawless. "Fascinating! Is Shu-won difficult to enunciate for a dragon's tongue?"

What a nerd, Whitewillow thought, smiling. The dragoness couldn't wait to get him underneath her tail. "This tongue is skilled at many things, human. Would you like to find out?"

He swallowed hard. "I think I'll pass."

Whitewillow fanned her spines, knowing it was only a matter of time before this human changed his tune.

A large group of men laughed boisterously as they approached, carrying bottles of liquor in hand. Though it wasn't unusual to see a human and a dragon walking side-by-side, it was this late at night, and the men gave Tristan leery gazes as they passed. The dragoness continued walking, passing by charming little establishments with fun and unusual names like "The Dragon's Flagon" and "Olly Moon's Oyster Saloon". She loved to see all the colored lights and in the windows, reading the advertisements and marveling at the printed images on the posters. Humans always had to be so creative, even with their food!

The heavy air that plagued the inner city tended to clear in the evening, making it easier for Whitewillow to discern smells. Among the sea of hundreds of human scents, she could make out the bitter bouquet of local brews from nearby pubs, and the tantalizing aroma of meat pies made her empty stomach growl.

After a period of silence, Tristan couldn't take it any more. "I'm sorry, but can I pet you? I apologize if that's a weird question."

Whitewillow chuffed laughter. "Loh-thaar. You may, and thank you for asking."

She graciously presented her snout to Tristan, who couldn't stop grinning as he began to stroke her pale scales. The smooth, glossy scutes reflected hazy light from the surrounding streetlamps, and they felt surprisingly warm on Tristan's fingertips.

"Your white scales and fancy spines are stunning! I don't think I've even read about your breed before."

"I am of the lineage Khandudraa, native to Zenshin. My fellow skyscales pride themselves on their dazzling colors. But as you can see, I lack the fiery stripes of my brethren. My colony did not regard my pure scales with the same wonder that you do. I was cast out to spare my broodmother the shame of my appearance."

Tristan gawked. "That's so cruel! I think you're beautiful the way you are."

Whitewillow fanned her spines. "Thank you, human. I think you are handsome, too."

She leaned in to lick Tristan's cheek, who pulled away suddenly. "Didn't mean that to be a pick-up line," he muttered.

Whitewillow watched him walk on for a moment in silent disappointment, then bounded forward to trot at his side. "That is okay, I took it as one anyway," she nudged him playfully with her wing.

Tristan groaned with exasperation. "Okay, what's your angle, dragon? Never met one of your kind crazy enough to try and seduce a dragon hunter before."

"Krall fem! Do I need a reason?" The dragoness cocked her head. "Is love for love's sake not enough?"

"Yes, you need a reason!" Tristan hissed. "A human needs a very good reason to have sex with a dragon. I don't know what it's like in Zenshin, but people around here don't go about fucking whoever they want, whenever they want, with zero repurcussions!"

"Why not?" she churred, wiggling her haunches. That sounds absolutely lovely."

"Because … because society doesn't work that way, okay?" Tristan couldn't find a better way to explain it. "Why don't you go have sex with other dragons instead? They'll have no qualms with you."

"I do lay with other draa, when needed. But the homn are my main concern. I have trained for years learning how to pleasure your kind."

"I don't understand …"

"This city is wicked and full of zussu. I am here to cleanse it."

"Zussu? Sorry, I'm still learning dragonspeak."

Whitewillow stopped walking and looked Tristan in the eye. "Zussu is negative spiritual energy. Zussu is born of the intolerance and hatred that your society breeds. It is evil and persistent – it gnaws at one's soul like a ravenous rat. The priesthood of Taishui wields grace and harmony to combat this zussu, and there is no source of harmony more fiery nor passionate than the act of making love. I give my body to homn as an act of worship. My only expectation is that my mates open their hearts and minds, and let me cleanse the zussu from their souls."

"Riiight. And how do you tell who has this zussu?"

"Everyone has some zussu. It must be cleansed regularly."

Tristan almost didn't want to say it. "Even me, huh?"

Whitewillow continued walking, her long, scaly tail sliding up against his arm as she passed. "Especially you, dragon hunter."

"Gods …" Tristan muttered. It was well-known that spirituality was a big part of Zenshin culture: he had heard that Zenshinites prayed to the sun and the rocks and everything in between. Even those long, noodly river dragons were venerated and worshiped. But Tristan had never heard of this "Taishui" or anything of the sort. And all of that sounded like a bunch of silly spiritual nonsense to him.

"So let me get this straight: you – a big, scaly dragon – go around fucking every human you can, because it's part of your religion?"

"That is an ugly, distasteful way of putting it." Whitewillow paused. "But yes."

He wrinkled his nose. "That sounds like some fucked up sex cult."

Whitewillow snorted. "Ssassu fek mol. Your prejudices are biting and unfair. You homn view sex as an inherently dirty thing, something to be ashamed of."

Tristan looked away, unable to argue. He certainly felt more than a bit of shame every time Whitewillow flirted with him.

"But I bring glad tidings, human: sex is a celebration of passion and love. There is nothing more holy nor pure than two beings casting aside their differences in the name of mutual desire." Whitewillow churred long and low in her scaled throat. "The union of draa and homn is a beautiful thing. It is not to be ashamed of, but welcomed and cherished."

Tristan grew silent for a moment as he mulled over her strange words. "Huh. I never heard anyone talk about interspecies sex like that."

"Do these words entice you, human?" Whitewillow leaned in close, humming softly.

Tristan shuddered at the sensation of hot dragon breath on his neck. He lowered his voice to a hush. "Look, I never gave serious thought about doing a dragon before …"

Whitewillow began to grin. "But?"

Tristan walked in silence for a moment, his cheeks growing hot as a group of pedestrians walked by. Revelers on the street were common at this time of night; the wealthy middle class often worked late and were just now beginning to socialize. When the group was safely out of earshot, he decided to come clean.

"But you're just so … so open about it," he hissed quietly. "So forward and brash. No woman has ever come up to me and asked for sex like you did earlier today. Earlier, in the square …" He let out a low whistle.

Now we're getting somewhere, Whitewillow thought. "Grn kuu druuz!" she churred eagerly. "Tell me more. How did my words make you feel? Did I make your pants grow tight? Which part was your favorite?"

Tristan shuddered. He couldn't believe he was talking about this. "Um, the eager parts. But here you are – a big, scaly dragon – with all those teeth, claws, and extra limbs! I'm not sure if I can bring myself to –"

"You can," she said, shushing him gently. "It will feel strange at first. But I know exactly how to make you feel comfortable within the scaly embrace of a draa."

The albino dragoness leaned in to lick Tristan's face, but he turned away, fearful of being seen on the street. "I can't. The guild would crucify me if they found out."

"What makes you think they will find out?"

Tristan bit his lip as his mind raced with hypotheticals. "I don't know, but I'd be ruined if it came up."

"Then we shall keep it a secret, fair human. Karaast-du rii. Trust me."

"No offense, but it's hard for me to trust a dragon I just met."

Of course, Whitewillow thought. A dragon hunter would have every right to be wary. But this Tristan was so close to giving in. She could smell the arousal on him. She had to tip the scales somehow. The dragoness pushed him against a wall and growled softly.

"What the–!?"

"Tristan, please allow me to perform my priestly duties with you. I have trained my entire life on how to understand humans, to charm them, and satisfy them. I know how to pleasure your body better than you do."

"I barely know you, dragon! Get offa me!"

He tried to walk away, but she pushed him back against the wall. "Thassus molak fel-nok noll. Trust in my pious intentions, and if not that, my lust. My mind cannot stop thinking about what sweet raashka we can make together."

Tristan breathed out slowly, feeling her talons dig into his chest. "Ugh, you're incessant!"

Whitewillow churred. "And you like that, do you not?" she teased, licking his neck. The dragon's long, white toes began to travel downard, to his crotch.

"Gods, stop it!" Tristan shouted, trying to wiggle out of her grip.

"'Ey! Get offa him, serpent!"

Both of them looked up across the street, where several men were quickly crossing. Rough-cut characters in overalls and beards – fishermen, by the looks of it. Whitewillow immediately let go of Tristan, realizing she had overplayed her hand.

"You okay, boy?"

"Yeah, I'm good!" Tristan dusted and straightened his doublet, using that as an excuse to subtly adjust the unexpected tightness in his pants. "Thanks."

"I was not attacking this human, I was merely seducing him." Whitewillow plainly stated.

The man shoved Whitewillow back with a heavy push. "Well, 'e doesn't like it. So fuck off!"

"Sithiss homn," Whitewillow growled.

"She's a friend, it's okay!" Tristan stepped in front of the men before things turned sour.

"You a fuckin' tail chaser, boy?" The man in front raised a brow.

"What? No! The dragon's just a little drunk, that's all. We're good here. Thanks for your help."

The burly man sniffled as he sized Whitewillow up. The alabaster dragoness glared back, her spines bristled. "Right. Well then, lads …" He tipped his hat to Tristan and turned away, and his group followed.

When the men were out of earshot, Tristan turned back to Whitewillow. "You see that?" he hissed. "That's why we can't have sex."

Whitewillow snorted in frustration. The last thing she wanted was to get this human in trouble for her amorousness. "Chissss …" she hissed. "My most sincere apologies, dear human. I am still unused to how hostile Concordia is to my kind."

"You know what, it's fine. We're good. Just let me think a moment." He began to pace, leaving Whitewillow to watch in amusement.

Could he actually lay with this scaly beast, Tristan wondered? Would he even be able to look himself in the mirror afterward? The very thought of laying with a dragon felt so unnatural. Their scaly, four-legged bodies were bestial and unnerving. He couldn't imagine being comfortable with the feeling of being pressed against her harsh scales, touching her scaly privates, letting her grab his delicate manhood with those long talons of hers …

As the human paced back and forth, Whitewillow watched with rapt attention, fantasizing about her next move. Perhaps she'd start with some not-so-innocent nuzzling, and then she'd try to sneak a kiss on the lips. After all, humans liked kissing. Most dragons viewed kissing as a human act, as they preferred to lick and nip.

She leaned in for a strategic nuzzle, but Tristan immediately pulled away. "Why, oh why couldn't you be a woman?"

Whitewillow growled in frustration. "Whyever would you want a human, when you have me?"

"You don't even have boobs!" he shouted in exasperation, then shrunk back when he realized that he had said that entirely too loud.

"I do not need breasts to pleasure you, dear human. We draa have long, coiling tongues and strong egg-laying muscles. I could make you orgasm in minutes."

"Ugh, not helping!" He shuddered.

Whitewillow reluctantly swallowed her pride. "I beg you, fair human. One night with me is all that I ask." She lowered her head, gazing into his eyes with those crimson orbs. "Please give me this honor and say yes. My heart yearns to hear you say yes."

Dragons were proud creatures: begging was seen as a shameful act, and most dragons would go to any lengths to avoid it. Tristan knew that better than anyone – and he had seen some of the worst of dragon behavior. That was why Whitewillow's words struck a chord in Tristan's heart. This dragon genuinely wanted him. That look of forlorn desperation could not be ignored. He hated to admit it, but he was running out of excuses.

Tristan sighed. "Gods, I can't believe I'm considering this. You promise that we'll go at my pace? None of that pouncing on me or clawing at me."

Whitewillow's heart leapt in her scaly chest. "You will never meet a more accommodating draa."

"And if I get weirded out by your scaly …" Tristan gestured vaguely. "things, then we quit."

"I will do everything in my power to get you comfortable."

"And this has to stay a secret! Gods, I can't believe putting my career on the line for some dragon pussy."

The dragoness smiled. "Not a soul will know. Not even other draa."

"Okay, then," Tristan sighed. "I guess the answer is yes."

Whitewillow's crimson eyes lit up with joy, and the dragoness ruffled her wings with delight. "Narthuus! Taishui shall bless our union."

"But just this once, okay!?"

"Come here, human." She wrapped her foreleg around his waist, pulling him close. Before Tristan even knew what was happening, he felt the dragon's long tongue on his neck. A lusty growl welled up in her throat.

He gasped softly, pushing her away. "No no no no! What did I just say? My pace, my pace!"

"Chissss … forgive my exuberance."

Tristan looked around wildly, glancing at the others on the street. "And we have to be discreet!"

"Tah!" The white-scaled dragoness flexed her ivory spines. "I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

Tristan breathed out a sigh. "I suppose I'm willing to try."

"Good. Then wrap your arms tightly around my neck."

"Um, okay." Tristan did as ordered.

Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind billowed around him as she opened her wings.

"No no no no no!" he yelped as he felt the dragon taking off. "I'm afraid of heiiiiiights!"

–=-=–

After what seemed like entirely too long, Tristan's feet finally touched the ground, and Whitewillow's strong forelegs unfurled from around his body. He had spent the entire time with his eyes shut and his fingers clinging desperately to her every scale.

"Marrak fozz, you are heavy! You may open your eyes now."

Tristan relaxed his iron grip around the dragon's neck, finding himself on the flat rooftop of an administrative building for a steam engine company. A crude shelter had been erected here, cobbled together from old rugs and furs on top of matted straw. Whitewillow lit the nearby sconce with a puff of flame breath, and the warm orange glow revealed that this pile of junk had the trademark bowl shape of a roost. Broken crates and old pallets were stacked into makeshift walls, and a stretched canvas tarp just barely protected the bedding from the elements.

Back in the tropical warmth of Zenshin, Whitewillow resided within the local temple and lived a pampered life of meditation and intimate lovemaking. These squalid conditions were the harsh reality of any Concordian dragon, and she was still getting used to it. Despite her draconic nature to hoard, Whitewillow did her best to take her circumstances in stride: eschewing her materialistic instincts for more of a pragmatic outlook that Taishui's teachings instilled in her.

Whitewillow ducked her head under the low-hanging canvas and tucked herself inside, turning in a tight circle before finally laying down with her tail curled around her.

"I walk by this building every day and had no idea this was up here!"

"Most homn do not, and we draa prefer it that way. Your kind may own the streets and the ground, but up here, on the rooftops … this is our Concordia."

"Is this where you sleep?" Tristan gawked. He had lived in some hovels before, but this squalid shelter was depressing to even look at.

"I sleep wherever I can." She cocked her head at Tristan's frown. "Does this arrangement bother you?"

Tristan shrugged. "I assumed you had a place in Tailwind Shelters."

"Paah. That sumptuous draa community can only be afforded by the well-off. The rest of us make homes out of what we can find, building new roosts as old ones are discovered and torn down." Whitewillow ducked her head down, sniffing around at the ratty pelts. Judging from the smell, this one hasn't been used in several weeks. "We are safe here." She patted the matted pelts with her talons, beckoning Tristan inside. "Come, human. Let us begin our night of passion."

Tristan lingered at the entrance of the crude shelter. A shadow fell over him – the stark realization that he was about to do what many people considered unthinkable. He could already smell the heady, peaty aroma of dragon musk wafting from inside. The threshold between the open night air and this ramshackle roost seemed divided by an imperceptible wall, separating the worlds of a dragon hunter and a dragon lover. Could he even go back to the guild after tonight?

"I don't feel ready for this," he confessed.

Whitewillow fanned her spines. Her heart swooned in her scaly chest. "I will help you feel ready, dear human."

Whtewillow reached a limber foreleg out of the roost, extending her fearsome claws as a lady might offer her palm. Gulping, Tristan reached out, taking her large, rapturous foot in his hand. Like a noble bird of prey, the dragon's ivory foot had three long, articulated toes, each ending in wicked, curved talons. A smaller dewclaw lay on the inside of her foot, like a long thumb. Whitewillow closed her large toes around Tristan's palm, dwarfing his entire hand. He was struck by the gentleness of her grip, despite how large and dangerous her claws were.

The dragon pulled him inside, and Tristan crossed the threshold with a tightened chest and bated breath.

Tristan had to duck his head under the low-hanging canvas. He was hit by the stench of dragon musk that had seeped into the salvaged rugs and stolen pelts. Here in this cramped shanty, Whitewillow appeared even bigger than before. When standing, the white-scaled dragoness was as tall as a horse, and with her long neck and even longer tail, she measured well over twice the length of any human. Whitewillow was hardly the largest dragon out there, yet Tristan felt small and vulnerable in the presence of such an intimidating creature.

Whitewillow looked into his eyes with admiration, her heart already thumping. Tristan was genuine and curious, shy yet excited, and most importantly, trusting. The dragoness had not had the pleasure of laying with a human like him in many weeks. She couldn't stop thinking about what manner of raashka they could create.

The dragoness curled her finned tail behind him, nudging him closer. "You are tense. Relax: this is a wondrous moment."

"I'm trying," he muttered, shuffling forward. "You're a lot of dragon …"

"A lot of dragon can provide a lot of pleasure," she churred.

Tristan couldn't help but smile at her words. With a sigh of reservation, he began to unbutton his doublet. Whitewillow savored the sight of Tristan stripping before her. Humans always wore those silly clothes, even in the summertime, so seeing one naked was always a real treat for her.

His clothing hit the pelt-covered roost with a flutter. Tristan was leaner than most humans, but his arms and thighs were well-toned from his training in the guild. Whitewillow adored his hairy chest and smooth skin. But the real prize was between his legs: for a dragon, a human's genitals was an exotic delight, especially the smell. Whitewillow couldn't help but flare her nostrils as she drank it in. It took every fiber of her body to resist the temptation to pounce on him and ravage him until he exploded in every hole she had.

Tristan knelt down next to the reclining dragon, feeling more than a tad uncomfortable. The cool air of evening washed over his body, giving him chills. In the dim light of the outside torch, he could see Whitewillow's smile broaden as she took in his naked form. The dragon's gaze looked almost predatory: her red eyes narrowed to slits.

"This is weird," he admitted, sitting down next to her. Tristan couldn't help but feel vulnerable being so close to this scaly creature.

"Let us get you comfortable with my body. Vaah narth druzz." Whitewillow leaned close, nuzzling his chest. "Touch me, human. Feel the smoothness of my scales on your skin."

He reached up to touch her neck. "Do dragons actually like being petted? Or is that patronizing?"

Whitewillow churred warmly. "We draa adore being stroked, coddled, and worshiped. Explore me at your own pace. I will be patient for you."

Tristan took the dragon's pale muzzle in his hands. Gods, she felt so big in his presence! Her snout measured the length of his forearm, and her jaws could no doubt crush his bones if she wanted to. Tristan ran his fingers along the smooth white scales of her muzzle. His fingertips traced the contours of each scale, following the ridges of her lips all the way down to her nostrils. Whitewillow inhaled deeply through her nose, filling her lungs with sweet human scent. She let out her breath with a low growl, which both excited and terrified Tristan.

The dragon's acrid breath washed over his face, fogging up his glasses and causing Tristan to cough. He ran his fingers along the underside of her jawbone, feeling the subtle bulges underneath her white scales. "This is going to sound weird, but after this, can I milk your flame sacs? For science, of course."

Whitewillow chuffed laughter. "Let us focus on our passion for now, fair human."

"Sorry, It's just that I've never had this opportunity before. Most of the dragons I interact with are already …" Tristan paused. He was about to say "dead". And by the look on Whitewillow's face, she knew as well. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Do not fret: it is not Taishui's way to judge you for your past."

Tristan forced a smile. "Thank you." His fingers traced her ivory scales as he moved up, toward her forehead. "May I touch your horns?"

Whitewillow fanned her many spines, flattered that this human was considerate enough to ask. "Tah. But do not pull on them."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. I know how proud dragons are of their horns."

Whitewillow smiled in appreciation. This Tristan was one of the most considerate Concordians she had ever met, and she couldn't wait to reward that consideration with generous pleasuring. She bowed her head, allowing him to reach upward, weaving between her many long spines to reach her pale gray horns. He ran his fingers along the bony ridges of her horn base, then moving up the smooth, curved pillars.

"I see merchants sell elixirs made of powdered dragon horn. Supposedly it instills longevity and cures ailments. The guild has researched powdered horn thoroughly, and has never been able to prove it. But that doesn't stop people from paying top price for them."

"The homn can be cruel," Whitewillow muttered. Horns were the manifestation of a dragon's pride: a natural crown befitting the king of the skies. In wildborn societies, the strictest punishment was not exile, or death: it was the breaking of a dragon's horns. And here humanity was taking a dragon's most prized possession and filing them down into potions! The very notion disgusted her.

Tristan noticed the dragon's lapse of attention. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." He sighed. "I've never had a chance to explore a dragon's body like this. I ramble when I get excited."

Whitewillow perked up. She would much rather focus on the good in humans at the moment. "I bask in your excitement, human. I find it adorable."

Tristan smiled a bit, his fingers moving down her long, serpentine neck. He massaged the smooth muscles underneath her pallid scales. Her pale armor felt smooth and tough, yet retained a certain degree of flexibility. Much like the hardened leather that some hunters preferred, he thought. Plate mail was certainly stronger, but conducted heat too easily.

His hands moved to the back of her neck, weaving through the three rows of finned spines. "And your spines: are they dangerous?"

"Yes," she hushed, licking his forearm. "But only at the tips. You can feel them if you want, though if you are trying to arouse me, your hands are better off exploring elsewhere."

Tristan's mind immediately went to her nether regions, causing his cheeks to grow hot. He wasn't quite ready for that yet. "I want to go at my own pace."

The alabaster dragoness bowed her head. "Of course, dear human. But know that my slit is already ready for you."

Tristan gulped. Ignoring the dragon's not-so-subtle hints, he traced up her wings, marveling at her elongated limbs and the taught tendons underneath her scales.

Like most dragons, Whitewillow didn't like her wings being touched: such delicate instruments need not be fiddled with. However, she graciously extended her wing for this human, taking his palm into hers and wrapping her strong wing thumb around his hand.

"A dragon's wings are a biological marvel," Tristan murmured, exploring with delight. Her white wings were easily twice the size of the rest of her body! Tristan estimated her wingspan was over thirty feet. "So large, yet so light and strong. Long ago, it was thought that dragons grew too big to conventionally fly, so they must secretly propel themselves in the air using magic. Funny that some people still believe in magic …"

"You do not?" Whitewillow cocked her head. What a silly thing to say, she thought.

"I believe in what I can see and touch. Like your beautiful wings."

Whitewillow chuffed, amused by this human. She found his fascination with her body to be delightful. Tristan unfurled her long dactyls and ran his fingers along the leathery patagium. Now that he was close, he could see the large network of reddish veins that spread through her pale patagium, which was what gave the wings their distinct pinkish hue. "Biology has taught us that magic has nothing to do with dragonflight. We know it's your hollow bones and extra limbs that make flight possible. Your four legs allow you to pick up enough speed to get the necessary wind under your wings. And these wings … wow!" Tristan stretched one of her long dactyls out. Whitewillow's pinkish patagium was as pristine as pure satin bedsheets, and felt like the most supple, stretchiest leather. The boney dactyls were both rigid and flexible, like Zenshin bamboo. "Dragon bones are lighter than wood and stronger than iron: their strength-to-weight ratio is better than any material humanity can build with. They're amazing."

Whitewillow folded her spines flat and refolded her wing against her back. The notion of building with dragon bones didn't sit well with her. "Spare me the biology lesson, human."

Caught up in his own geekery, Tristan was oblivious. "You don't think dragon anatomy is cool?"

"I think I am more interested in your anatomy." Whitewillow churred as she leaned in to lick his bare chest.

"Oh … oh!"

Her thick tail fin twitched, billowing gusts of chilly air over the wet spots her tongue had left. Tristan reached out and grabbed hold of it, feeling the stiff spines and the elastic webbing between them. Whitewillow's tail had four oar-shaped fins that ended short of the bare tail tip. The flexible tip curled around his wrist as he explored: it was fully prehensile, explaining the lack of webbing.

"I love your tail! Most dragons in Concordia don't have tailfins."

"It is common amongst Zenshin draa. Especially the Shuidraa. Their finned tails are longer than their bodies, both majestic and beautiful in equal measure – an envy amongst Tiandraa."

Tristan's fingers worked up the length of her white tail, traveling along the bumps of her white scales. "What are they like? The water dragons, that is."

"Noble. Wise. Kind. Shuidraa have been consulted as arbiters in homn decisions for generations."

"I can't imagine getting a good answer out of a Concordian dragon for anything."

Whitewillow snorted. "Too much zussu exists between draa and homn. I hope to change that."

Tristan couldn't argue. He focused on other things, like the dragon's tail. He was surprised by how muscular it felt – like a massive, coiling snake. The flexible tail felt strong enough to crush him if she so wished. Tristan was once again thankful for Whitewillow's gentle nature. He traced the length of her white tail with his fingertips, feeling the ridges and bumps of her dorsal scale pattern.

Whitewillow churred with delight. "Rrr, I enjoy watching you stroke my tail, human. My tailbase is especially receptive to sensual touch."

Tristan smiled as he moved down to her tailbase, gently massaging her smooth tail muscles and the pure white scales that covered them. He hadn't known that dragons liked being touched here, though perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised given their reputation as pleasure-seekers. He had observed dragons nipping each other on the base of their tails before – something that made perfect sense to him now. His fingers moved down to the underside of her tailbase, near her anus.

Whitewillow shivered as his fingertips danced along the rows of her tail's smooth, rectangular scutes. "That tickles."

Tristan raised a brow. "Dragons are ticklish underneath all these scales?"

"Karasst duu. We draa are not the cold, unfeeling beasts, you homn think we are. Our scales lie on top of sensitive nerves."

Though Whitewillow was enjoying this human's exploration, his sensual strokes were heating her up. The alabaster dragoness could not wait much longer. Her slit was tingling with anticipation, and while she tried her best to entertain Tristan's slow pace, she longed to encourage this human to quicken. And fortunately for a courtesan as crafty as Whitewillow, she had more than enough tricks under her wings.

Whitewillow leaned in, planting a long, lingering lick across Tristan's chest. "Mmm." She growled softly as she licked every inch of his pectorals. "I love the salt on human skin. Pect maal zoth."

Tristan wrinkled his nose as he felt her warm tongue explore his skin. "Really? Sweat is kinda gross."

Her crimson eyes looked into his own. "We draa regulate body heat with our wings. Perspiration is a curiosity for us. Not only is it delicious, it carries a human's …" The dragoness inhales deeply. "Exotic musk."

"Fascinating!" Tristan reflected on Whitewillow's words as she continued to lick, his mind wandering to thermodynamics of a dragon's patagium. The guild's tomes didn't mention any of this!

"Oh my," Tristan muttered as he felt the dragon's tongue on his nipples. He had never been licked there before and was shocked by how sensitive that felt. Whitewillow's forked tip teased and titillated, causing goosebumps on his skin. He continued to stroke her pale cheeks and forehead, minding the smaller spines that jutted out from her scales.

Whitewillow's snout traveled higher, gently nibbling at his clavicle and neck. The dragon's tongue lapped at his skin with slow and lingering licks, and it surprised him how much this bestial behavior turned him on. He could feel her wanton desire in every wet press of her velvet tongue. Whitewillow's warm, acrid breath billowed over the wet spots left in her tongue's wake, causing Tristan to shiver.

Tristan lifted Whitewillow's large pearly snout up to his face. "Do dragons kiss?"

"Kissing is seen as a homn pastime. Most draa refuse to partake. But I am not most draa."

Tristan leaned in, his heart racing. Kissing a dragon … the notion sounded unnatural in his mind. But when he felt the gentle press of her scaly lips, it wasn't as frightening as he thought. Rather, her gentleness was a sensual thrill – a reminder that this magnificent creature shared the same base desires as him. They shared breath as their mouths opened slightly, and Tristan found himself kissing deeper, tasting the sour, ashy flavor of a dragon's saliva. He began to grow bolder, feeling more comfortable as his eyes slowly closed. Whitewillow growled in response, causing goosebumps on his skin.

Whitewillow pulled away briefly. "Do you trust me?" she hushed, licking his saliva off her scaly lips.

"I do."

The dragoness smiled. "Good."

Tristan felt a leathery dragon wing wrap around his shoulder. Whitewillow pressed her scaly lips to his once more, fluttering her ivory spines.

And then came the tongue.

Tristan's eyes bolted wide open as that slimy, serpentine muscle slithered into his mouth. He grunted in surprise and tried to pull away, but the dragon's bony dactyls and stretchy patagium wrapped around his body with surprising strength. The tongue's forked tip danced across his teeth and met his tongue, tickling his taste buds. He ventured his tongue into the dragon's mouth, daring to lick at her long, pointed teeth as well. Tristan felt the ridges of her tongue slide across his own, exploring with eagerness, teasing at the back of his mouth.

Tristan's gag reflex suddenly kicked in, and he pulled back, coughing. Whitewillow let out a throaty laugh.

"That … was a lot of tongue," he said, gasping for air.

"You will get used to it, dear human," she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

This time, Tristan didn't try to resist; instead he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of a dragon's tongue sliding past his lips. The forked tip curled around his own tongue, like a slippery, curious snake. As he wrestled with the forked appendage, he felt the dragon touching his body all over: her long talons teasing his skin, her tail rubbing against his backside, her wing thumb stroking his shoulder. There was too much dragon to keep track of: four legs, two wings, and a tail, all prodding and stroking from different directions. Tristan felt as if he were in the middle of a harem of women with so many things caressing him at once. Such stimulation was overwhelming, and he felt himself succumbing to the dragon's exotic embrace.

Whitewillow pushed him down, easing him to lay back against the crook between her muscular hind legs and scaly white belly. Before he knew it, he was reclining against her alabaster thighs, and her snout was nudging open his legs.

"I am going to pleasure you with my maw," she hushed, kissing him once more. "Do you trust me?" she asked again.

Tristan felt his chest tighten with both excitement and danger. A dragon's maw was full of sharp teeth: his tongue had just been exploring them, in fact. He ran his fingertips along the dragon's white snout, feeling comfortable with letting them on his manhood. "By all means …"

Whitewillow churred in response. She loved to hear her humans consenting. Trust was paramount in the act of lovemaking, and an essential ingredient in the purest raashka.

The dragoness slithered around him, curling up in a ball with Tristan in the middle. He felt the dragon's scales glide along his back, shifting and rubbing against his skin. Her strong, dexterous toes gripped him with possessive desire. Tristan reflected that he was truly within the Whitewillow's clutches now. He felt like a piece of a dragon's hoard: her most prized possession. It both unnerved and excited him.

Whitewillow pushed Tristan's knees apart with her powerful forelegs, allowing herself access to his manhood. Her long talons felt so dangerous on his skin, and he was surprised by how gentle she could be with them. The dragoness seemed to not mind his pubic hair, instead delighting in it as she buried her nostrils in it and inhaled, growling lustfully. She began to tease him, licking all around his member but never darting in. Soon, Tristan's groin was dripping with warm, slimy dragon drool.

"There are few things I adore more than bringing my lovers pleasure," Whitewillow murmured, licking down his belly. "Oral servicing is a particular delight for me. The intimacy of taking a human's most vulnerable parts into my maw, the sounds of his moans and gasps on my tympanum, the sensation of his member throbbing between my scaly lips, the exotic flavors of his seed on my forked tongue …" the dragoness growled, her huge scaly body reverberating with power. "I never tire of it."

Tristan let out a whistle. "Your dirty talk is certainly on point."

Whitewillow bristled her spines. "It is not 'dirty' to arouse my partner, human. Let go of those sordid conceptions. Instead, celebrate with me as we share in this beautiful moment of trust and intimacy."

"Well, I suppose I–ooah!"

Tristan did not expect Whitewillow to go straight for his balls. He tensed up as he felt his sac enveloped by the warmth of a dragon's maw, her fangs gently scraping the sensitive scrotal skin.

"Mind the teeth!" he yelped, squirming.

Whitewillow tightened her grip of his thighs, her talons digging into his skin as a reminder to lay still.

"I asked if you trusted me. You said yes."

"But that's a lot of teeth!"

Whitewillow growled in annoyance. "Zussu-toth. I would never intentionally hurt you, human. Such a breach of trust is a great sin in Taishui's eyes. Now relax."

Saying nothing, Tristan leaned back in the dragon's scaly coils. Whitewillow lowered her head closer to his crotch. The dragon's forked tongue slipped out of its maw and swirled around his testicles, and Tristan tried his hardest to not jump. Then the albino dragoness opened her jaws and engulfed his sack, wrapping them tightly in her steamy maw.

"It's so hot!" Tristan looked down in amazement as he felt the shocking heat of a dragon's maw close around his sac. She rolled her tongue around his scrotum in circles, massaging him with firm strokes and quick flicks. His manhood began to rise, which only encouraged Whitewillow further. Her long, forked tongue snaked around his sac, gently cradling and constricting it. The sight of a dragon's slimy forked tongue wrapped around his genitals filled Tristan with a weird, yet exciting feeling. It felt so alien, so exotic and wonderous!

Pulling both balls between her lips, the pallid dragoness suckled with diligence, savoring the flavor and musk. Her incessant tongue lapped and stroked them with urgent intensity, and the occasional brush of the dragon's fangs kept Tristan on edge. Tristan had never had anyone give his crown jewels such treatment before, but then again, he had never laid with a professional courtesan before, either.

"You really like my balls, don't you?" Tristan said, trying not to laugh.

Whitewillow posessively squeezed his sac between her large, articulated toes. "Tah. The source of a male's seed should be treasured and worshiped. And these are now mine to play with as I desire."

"Yours?!" Tristan yelped. "Who said my balls belong to you?"

Whitewillow gave his sac a single long, lingering lick. "I did."

Whitewillow's long tongue moved with such fervor that it appeared to have a mind of its own. It darted around Tristan's sac, twisting and turning, and occasionally nibbling at his skin. When the dragon released his scrotum from her mouth, she placed one massive foot behind his knee and lifted his leg in the air. With her other, Whitewillow reached down and grasped his shaft firmly in her large, pale talons.

With him laying back against her hind legs, and her claws all over his body, Tristan couldn't help but feel like he was trapped in the dragon's clutches. The way she stared into his eyes, it was clear that she savored his look of fear and excitement. Whitewillow teased him further by growling softly, exhaling her warm breath all over his half-erect member.

"Your manhood smells delicious. So musky and virile," she murmured.

The dragon's long, red tongue slithered out between her white lips, dipping down to drag across his entire length. Tristan sighed with pleasure as she doted on his manhood. He was transfixed by how each moment was filled with such longing and passion. It was the little things that stuck out to him: like how her tongue would linger for but a moment before retreating back into her mouth, or the soft moans reverberating from her throat as she nipped playfully at his foreskin. Every so often, he felt the dragon's hind legs clench and flex against his back, and he noticed her cool belly scutes gradually warming up with their increasing body heat.

Tristan threw his head back. "You're so eager!"

The white-scaled dragoness cocked her spiny head. "You expected otherwise?"

Tristan looked away "No, it's just …" He sighed. "I've never been with anyone who enjoyed putting their mouth down there."

The dragoness raised her head and licked Tristan on the cheek. "Well, human, you now have me. Karthuul. I would be happy to suckle on your manhood all night, making you seed my maw over and over until our raashka is fully realized."

"Gods," Tristan gasped, his manhood twitching.

Whitewillow growled lustfully, delighting in his reaction. She couldn't help but wiggle her haunches in anticipation of making him burst.

The dragoness began to lick around his member, and once again her long tongue displayed its mesmerizing, serpentine movements. Whitewillow's tongue worked around Tristan's cockhead like a hungry python constricting its prey, leaving trails of slime wherever it went. Her saliva was thick and viscous, oozing onto Tristan's crotch as she continued to massage his swollen organ. Whitewillow kept her crimson eyes trained on Tristan the entire time, and the intense gaze of her red, slit-pupil eyes added to the thrill. Every time her forked tongue squeezed, he tensed and moaned, and Whitewillow took great delight in coaxing out these reactions.

By now Tristan's manhood was fully erect and pulsing with his heartbeat. The white-scaled dragoness loved feeling how stiff this human had become; it was a flattering testament to her oral prowess, and it turned her on besides.

The dragoness opened her maw wide, revealing her many sharp teeth. Tristan's eyes opened wide with tension as she made a show of wrapping her tongue around his shaft. Her forked appendage slid around his length like a revolving barber's pole, squeezing and slithering up and down endlessly. This was one of her favorite tricks, and she prided herself on her ability to make humans orgasm with her tongue alone.

"Your tongue is … wow." Tristan murmured, his eyes glued to the long, red tongue squirming and writhing around his member.

Whitewillow growled deep in her throat. Her tongue retreated back into her maw at a tantalizingly slow pace. "I have mastered the twenty-three tongue techniques of the Raashka-Djaro. My oral skills would make any human lover jealous."

"And as a dragon, you'd never let something like that go to your head!"

"Shush," she murmured, snapping her teeth at him. Tristan laughed.

Whitewillow pulled away from his drool-soaked erection, blowing cool air over it and causing him to shudder. She then brought her armored muzzle right back down, letting her tongue wrap around the tip. Slowly, she pulled his cock in between her scaled lips, enveloping the entirety of his shaft in the heat of her maw. She eagerly buried her pale white snout into his pubic hair, where the musky smell of a man was strongest. Whitewillow inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with his delightfully spicy musk. She savored it like a human may a bouquet of flowers. As the dragon closed her maw around his cock, her nostrils flared with delight.

Tristan groaned as his scaly partner began to suckle, her tongue still wrapped around the base of his cock.

"So warm!" he gasped.

The heat of a dragon's maw seemed even hotter than a human's, providing a stark contrast to the cool evening air. The dragoness pressed her lips tight around him, forming a seal to provide steady suction. The rhythmic tugging and eager sucking made Tristan's body tremble, and soon his toes curled.

Whitewillow felt Tristan's member throb between her scaly lips, and she churred with delight and pleasure as a burst of savory precum splashed along her tongue. She pulled her maw off his manhood slowly.

"Your precum," Whitewillow growled. "Give me more."

The dragon's predatorial tone caused Tristan's eyes to open wide. "Gods!"

The quiet of the ramshackle roost became disrupted by the sounds of lewd slurping and draconic grunts. Tristan's hands reflexively found their way to Whitewillow's scaly snout, and he began petting and stroking her fine white scales as he leaned back and relaxed. He felt at the mercy of this large dragon, so coiled up in her scaly body and unable to do anything! Yet the dragon's measured gentleness kept him feeling comfortable and desired. He trusted that Whitewillow would never hurt him. At least, not intentionally. The dragon's sharp claws were gentle on his skin, and her teeth nibbled with such delicate precision. Her great finned tail flicked around like a cat's, fanning the sweat off his body. And her forked tongue continued to squeeze and stroke with practiced purpose, keeping Tristan on the edge of ecstasy.

Tristan petted the dragon's snout with graciousness, stroking along the ridges of her pale scales and marveling at the intricate system of furrows and bumps on his fingertips. "You're amazing, Whitewillow," he hushed, "I never imagined a dragon could give such incredible head."

Whitewillow churred with appreciation, flexing her many spines and arching her neck proudly. Whichever human came up with the line "flattery will get you nowhere" had clearly never met a dragon. Tristan knew this as well as she did, and he smiled as his words caused the dragoness to slurp with greater enthusiasm.

Whitewillow's eyes locked on to Tristan's, and the two stared each other down as she continued to suckle with passionate diligence. He realized that this dragoness was in total control of the situation, and she knew exactly what she was doing. That predatory, possessive gaze, the long talons digging into his inner thighs, the deep draconic growls that reverberated in her throat … a part of Tristan still couldn't believe that he was letting a dragon suck on his manhood, but he felt himself getting surprisingly turned on by the dash of danger this bestial blowjob provided.

Whitewillow pulled her mouth from the human's penis and looked up at him. "Are you ready, human?"

"Ready for what?" Tristan's eyes widened as Whitewillow licked the head of his cock. He could feel her wet tongue on the tip of his manhood, teasing and stroking him.

Whitewillow flexed her many spines. "Ready to fill my maw with your seed."

"Gods," Tristan groaned, causing Whitewillow to churr laughter.

"Does that turn you on, human?" she whispered into his ear. "Does the thought of seeding my maw make you tremble? Ekxi nos! Do not hold back. I yearn to feel your seed splash across my tongue."

Whitewillow lowered her snout again and sucked the human's cock in her maw, slowly bringing the tip inside her mouth and wrapping her lips around the head. As the tip of his penis disappeared between her thin lips, she growled with lust. Her warm mouth surrounded his shaft as she bobbed up and down. Whitewillow's long, red tongue slithered out, cupping his balls as she worked the shaft.

"Ooh!" Tristan cried out as the warm confines of Whitewillow's hungry maw worked its draconic magic. He felt his member gliding against the ridges of the roof of her mouth, and her tongue slurped with wanton desire. The dragoness bobbed her muzzle aggressively, actively trying to make him finish. He dug his fingers into her scaly head, trying to mind the long spines jutting out from the back of her skull.

The dragoness felt her scaly slit growing wetter and wetter as she anticipated his orgasm. Her tail wiggled along the floor of the roost, and the soft pads of her toes massaged his delicate skin. Whitewillow pistoned her snout with practiced precision, gurgling and churring as she tried to coax Tristan closer to climax.

Tristan was in another world. The sensation of the dragon's smooth, silken tongue wiggling all along his shaft was like nothing he had experienced before, and he was helpless to do anything but let the dragoness have her way with him. He gripped Whitewillow's head with both hands, pushing his hips forward to meet her mouth and pressing her snout harder against his groin. He began thrusting gently against her bobbing snout, feeling his fluids well up inside of him.

"Fuck, here it comes …"

Whitewillow felt Tristan's member begin to stiffen against her tongue, and she tensed up in anticipation. The large, white-scaled dragoness let out a deep, rumbling growl as she felt the human's manhood stiffen. Tristan's moans were music to her draconic ears, and she grew more excited with every passing moment.

The dragoness felt the human's cock pulse, and she immediately clamped her maw down hard. Tristan's cock swelled even larger, and Whitewillow felt the first spurt of warm, sticky semen hit the back of her throat. Here it was: the sublime payoff of her selfless act of pleasuring! Whitewillow thought his orgasm was a beautiful sight to behold – his face all flushed and contorted with pleasure. Every spurt of warm seed that splashed against her maw filled the dragoness with joy. She savored the salty taste, basking in every glorious moment of this human's orgasm.

The dragoness worked him with such grace and eagerness that it turned Tristan on even more. He writhed in Whitewillow's clutches, his fingers gripping the dragon's scaled snout hard. His hands wandered close to the dragon's horns and he tried his hardest to resist the temptation to pull on them. Whitewillow coiled her long forked tongue around the human's shaft, gently squeezing, coaxing the rest of his ejaculate to flow out of his member. The dragoness was delighted in his generous offering and she wanted to make sure that she didn't miss a drop.

"Fuck, fuck … fuuuuck!" Tristan kicked his feet out, his soles rubbing against her white scales.

As the human's cock began to deflate, Whitewillow kept her maw locked around him. The dragoness suckled hard, drawing out as much as she could. She savored the taste, and was trying hard to not swallow too early. Finally, when she was sure that she had received every spurt, Whitewillow pulled her mouth from the human's cock and let her tongue uncoil around the base of his member. She then brought her head up to Tristan's eyes, growling deep in her throat.

Whitewillow opened her pale jaws, and in the dim light of the torch outside, Tristan could see the glistening of the creamy mess that pooled in her dripping maw. The dragoness lifted her tongue, letting his seed dribble off and into her gullet. Closing her messy maw slowly, the dragoness swallowed with pride. Licking her lips, she proudly revealed a clean, empty mouth: nothing but tooth and tongue. With a flourish of fluttering dactyls, the dragoness then clasped her wings together.

Chinnng!

A beautiful, high-pitched chime filled the ramshackle roost, Tristan's eyes were drawn to the source: the decorated bronze disks that the dragoness wore on the back of her wing palms. So that's what those things were for! Whitewillow ducked her head down and quickly murmured some words in Dragonspeak that he couldn't quite make out. Tristan thought it sounded like some mysterious, melodious prayer.

"Taishui mef kaahn draa. Thank you, human, for creating this raashka with me." She leaned in to lap at his cheek.

Tristan, still dazed from a mind-blowing orgasm, blinked several times. "Uh, you're welcome?" He felt as if he should be the one thanking her!

Whitewillow wrapped a wing around the back of his head and continued to fan him gently with her great finned tail. "Now it is my turn to be pleasured. I am yours to use, human. Yours to touch, to fondle, to lick, to worship …"

Tristan didn't know how to respond. Whitewillow's flirty aura had a bewitching effect on him. The white-scaled dragoness was both gorgeous and silver-tongued, and she clearly enjoyed making her lovers squirm. Her strong, articulated toes curled around his thighs with possessive desire, and now that his arousal had temporarily abated, Tristan was suddenly reminded of the dragon's size advantage. Whitewillow was over twice as long as he was tall, and he felt intimidated by the amount of dragon he had to pleasure.

Whitewillow's large white snout came within inches of his face, and he felt her warm breath on his chest.

"Draa haas thuul et rii. Has the dragon caught your tongue, human? Say something."

In the brief moment of daze after Tristan's recent orgasm, any chance of suave bedroom talk had vacated his mind, and all he had left was …

"You're a LOT of dragon!"

Whitewillow hissed, and she folded her spines flat against her neck. Her smooth, serpentine voice became thick with ire. "A lot of dragon is better than no dragon at all."

Tristan chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry, okay?! You got all those scales and claws. It's so bestial."

The dragon snorted. "You should take a good look under my tail. You'll find something bestial there, too."

Tristan swallowed. "Your vagina?"

"Yessssss, human," she hissed, flitting out her forked tongue. "My big, scaly dragon vagina. The one place where you can cure my sudden disappointment in you."

The white-scaled dragoness could have done what most of her kind would have, and delivered a warning bite. But as a priestess of Taishui, Whitewillow was forbidden from actions that may spawn zussu. Forgiveness may not be the dragon way, but it was Taishui's. However, even the most passionate grace came with a caveat: the snap of a dragon's tongue.

Tristan felt her tail push against his back, guiding him to his feet. Whitewillow rolled onto her belly and slithered around him, stretching her legs like a scaly cat. Her body filled the frame of the ramshackle roost, her pallid scales glimmering dimly in the early night on Concordia's rooftops. Tristan felt boxed in by the scaly claustrophobia and stood up completely. He quickly found his head covered in the thick canvas tarp, and he let out a yelp of surprise.

"Careful, human" she said, pulling him down with a tug of her claws. "You will cause it to droop."

"Sorry!" he said, laughing.

Whitewillow, now resting on her opposite flank, guided Tristan down with tugs from her tail and claws. She lifted one of her pale hind legs in the air and pulled her tail back, revealing her scaly slit.

Tristan gulped. Though it was hard to see in the dim light of the torch, milky white belly scutes ran down her crotch, bulging in the center between her hind legs. The vertical slit that ran down between her hind legs glistened with arousal. Tristan had seen a dragon's parts before – it's not like they covered themselves! The slit of a dragoness was normally small and unassuming, laying flush against their hindquarters. Tristan had no idea that the vulva of a dragon could swell up when aroused. The swollen slit puffed outward, and the vertical slit opened slightly, revealing her wet interior. Due to Whitewillow's albinism, her vuval scales turned pink due to the increased bloodflow. Even the dragon's anus appeared rosy.

Then, just as Tristan's eyes were getting used to the sight, his nose was blasted by the unmistakable, irrevocably unforgettable, overwhelmingly unique musk of a fully aroused dragoness. Given the promiscuity of dragons (and their general lack of sexual shame) one was bound to come across the smell of dragon sex somewhere within the city of Concordia. But Tristan had never been so close to the source before, or smelled it this fresh before!

"Gods …" he wavered, coughing.

"You will learn to love the smell," she churred. "They all do."

"I find that hard to believe."

Whitewillow flickered her forked tongue. "My dear human! Have some faith."

Tristan steeled himself and tried to ignore the heady musk. He knelt down next to the dragon's crotch, guided by her ever-present, finned tail strokes. His hand traveled along her raised hind leg, and he marveled at the sheer size of her scaly thigh muscles. The white scales along the inside of her groin grew softer as he drew closer to her scaled slit. The pure white scutes contrasted starkly with her crimson eyes, and Tristan had to wonder how many humans had gazed upon those same eyes, from this same position. The thought of so many previous lovers grossed him out, but then he tried to think about it from Whitewillow's perspective, remembering what she had said about the union of human and dragon being a beautiful thing …

Tristan's hand moved from her thighs, deftly avoiding her slit for now, much to Whitewillow's chagrin.

"You tease me, human," she pouted playfully, wiggling her scaly body against the matted pelts.

Trustan blushed. He didn't want to admit that he was still working up the courage to touch her in more intimate spots. Working his way up to that, he instead moved down and cupped her huge, scaly rear.

Whitewillow churred. "Give my haunches a proper squeeze."

Tristan laughed, kneading her scaly flesh and giving it a slap for good measure. Whitewillow gasped as she felt the smack on her scaly butt, but then growled eagerly. A dragon's haunches were strong and well-muscled, designed to gather speed on the ground before taking flight. He massaged her scaly rear, feeling it tense up as he moved his fingers over her scales. Tristan grew bolder, moving closer and closer to that plump mound between her hind legs. The dragon's tail flicked back and forth like a cat's, and Tristan knew that it was more than just a reflex action. She was getting excited.

Ever so slowly, he ran his fingers around the edge of Whitewillow's plump vulva. It was time, Tristan thought. Time to explore a dragon's most sensual of spots.

Whitewillow tensed up as he glided his fingertips across her plump, scaly mound. "Yes, human!" she fanned her spines. "Explore my scaly slit. Revel in my welcoming folds. Do not be shy: there is no spot on my body in which your fingers are not welcome."

Tristan laughed. "You're so impatient!"

"Nos ferr. I am the most patient lover you will ever mate. A lesser draa would have pounced and mated you twice by now."

Tristan gulped.

The dragoness caressed him with her finned tail. "Fret not, cherished human. Tonight, we go at your pace."

Tristan slowly traced the rim of every vulval scale, marveling at how supple her swollen skin was compared to the rest of her. The heat of her slit warmed up his fingers: he had almost forgotten that a scaly creature could radiate such warmth. The dragoness watched eagerly, her eyes transfixed on his every move. Her red eyes narrowed and she began growling to herself. Tristan shuddered and looked away, feeling as if he were being sized up as a predator might do to its meal.

"Relax, human," she cooed. "I hoard raashka as a wildborn may hoard gold. It is my fixation, my obsession, my vice. I would never hurt you."

"I don't even know what raashka is. That's not in the guild's tomes."

Whitewillow snorted. "Of course not. It is not a term relating to identifying, cataloging, and killing draa. Why would your kind ever need to know this beautiful word? Raashka is the positive spiritual energy we create when making love. It is my offering to Taishui, and my gift to the world. I give this gift with glad tidings, human. Because the more raashka we create, the more harmony we bring to this loathsome city."

Tristan ruminated on her words. "I think I'm starting to get it, now. Your religion."

Whitewillow fanned her spines. "Paraduun Taishui. Are you looking to convert, human?"

He laughed. "Still sounds like a bunch of spiritual gobbledegook to me. But at least I see why you believe."

Whitewillow growled with pleasure as Tristan slid two fingers into the dragon's slit. Gods, she was wet already, Tristan thought. And so incredibly hot! It was hot enough that Tristan had immediate concerns about sticking more sensitive things in her …

Back in college, college students would whisper and joke about "Joining the Spa Club". It was common knowledge that a dragon's internal body temperature was steamy 40 degrees Celsius. But as a biologist, Tristan knew that was only their resting body temperature, and he read every available tome on dragon anatomy without ever finding out how hot they really got. Tristan had heard the Spa Club used interchangeably as a mark of shame and a badge of prestige. After all, dragons were not to be trifled with: the only way to lay one was if they chose you first.

Joining the Spa Club was something joked about more often than not, though he had met a few students that claimed to have done it. It was no secret that dragons were less picky than humans when it came to sex, and the convenience of never having to worry about pregnancy was a wonderful perk for some. But when he was still a student, Tristan had never let himself consider crossing the species barrier: there was just too much social stigma attached. Not to mention the intimidating prospect of asking a dragon out!

Tristan gasped as he felt the dragon's slit come to life, squeezing and pulling his fingers in deeper. The library's tomes never mentioned this, either! He marveled at the profound control this dragon had over her vaginal muscles. With each squeeze, her scaly vulva rippled around his digits, tugging and pulling with wondrous dexterity. Whitewillow arched her spine, thrusting her hips upward as she let out a pleasured growl. Tristan watched as her flushed vulva bulged around his intruding fingers. His other hand wandered, exploring the dragon's white-scaled rump. The firm, glossy scales were cool beneath his palms – a stark contrast to the sweltering heat of her vent.

Tristan went slow, exploring the dragon's cave with measured patience. Disregarding the scaly exterior, Whitewillow's silky vagina felt similar to a woman's, and – despite the dragon's size – it felt surprisingly about as tight. But it was the way her exotic muscles squeezed his fingers that had his attention. Whitewillow was large enough that he could probably fit his whole hand inside her, but he didn't want to do anything crazy for his first time.

"You're so warm!" He wondered how comfortable it would be on his manhood.

Whitewillow waved her claws dismissively – another human mannerism she adopted. "This is nothing. You should feel me when I am in heat."

Tristan gulped. The guild didn't have much literature on a dragon's estrus cycle. He wondered if there was anything else particular to dragons that he should know about. Swallowing his pride, he decided to be blunt. "I've pleasured women before, but how do I pleasure a dragoness?"

Whitewillow fanned her spines in flattery. "Narthuus! I am delighted you asked, fair human. Many in your place have not, but I prefer the ones that do."

The dragoness ran her scaly forefeet down her belly scutes, and she spread the top of her slit open wide. Her large white toes pressed inward, and Whitewillow's internal clitoris peeked out from under its hood. When completely everted, the dragon's clitoris was about as large as Tristan's thumb, and it curled into a point like a shiny red horn. Tristan marveled at her strange, yet fascinating anatomy.

"The pleasure horn of a draa is inside her slit. Once you know how to find it, it is hard to miss." she churred, flitting out her tongue. "It does not take much to make a draa climax, and we can do so many times without needing rest. Start with some gentle rubs and work your way up to bigger things. My vent and my tailhole are also wonderful places to explore, but my horn …" she wiggled her exposed clitoris between her clawed toes. "This is where the magic happens."

Tristan blinked. "What, no twenty-three tongue techniques of raash-whatever? I would have assumed a holy courtesan would have prepared an entire lecture on how to pleasure her!"

The dragoness chuffed laughter. "There is no fun in spilling all my secrets so soon."

"But I'm curious!" Tristan blurted out, surprising himself.

Whitewillow caressed his cheek with her tail fin. "I have laid with hundreds of partners, and each new encounter is a unique journey to cherish and savor. Start exploring, dear human. I am eager to see what you will do."

Nodding in resignation, Tristan couldn't help but feel as if he were being graded against every previous lover that Whitewillow had taken. Preparing himself, he drew his thumbs to either side of the apex of her inner slit and felt around. A dragon's clitoris seemed to be further inside than a human's, but he could feel where the firmness of her erectile tissue lay. He pressed in on both sides of the clitoral hood, pushing out more and more of the dragon's massive, horn-shaped clit.

"There you go, human: look how happy she is to see you. Now show her some love …" A draconic growl followed the tail end of her words.

Tristan took in a deep breath, getting used to the overpowering scent of a dragon's arousal. He began tracing circles around her clitoris with one hand. This fleshy red spire was strangely intimidating for him; a dragon's anatomy had similarities to the women he had laid with, yet it was different enough to feel uncanny. Mostly, he couldn't get over how large her clit was, even for a dragon her size. The biologist in him wondered if this was why female dragons enjoyed sex so much.

Tristan rubbed his thumb against the dragoness' clit, eliciting a soft growl from her. The sensitive red spire throbbed between strokes, almost like it was begging for more. He began to move faster, stroking along the horn at a steady pace. With his other hand, he slid his digits along the soft slit of her flushed, plump vulva.

Tristan reflected on the strangeness of his fingers exploring a dragon's most intimate place. Her vulval scales felt so smooth and slippery when wet, and her swollen, supple folds yielded with surprising ease. Tristan thought it was a delightful sensation on his fingers – these were surely the softest scales on a dragon's entire body! His fingers found themselves sliding between her rosy labial cleft, pushing in to explore the dragon's heated vent further. Whitewillow growled softly, her muscles squeezing his fingers with surprising strength.

"Yesssss," Whitewillow leaned back, tilting her white muzzle skyward. "Rrrf, that feels good. Keep stroking my pleasure horn, human. Pleasure me, make me squirt."

As Tristan rubbed his thumb against the dragon's exposed clit, Whitewillow started to rock her scaly haunches in time with his motions. It didn't take long for the dragoness to begin breathing heavily, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled a cloud of steamy vapor into the air. Whitewillow's hind legs tensed up, and her long toes grasped at the air. The dragon's tailfin swished uncontrollably behind her, whipping up the musty air in the cramped, rickety shelter.

Tristan had no idea that dragons could be so expressive and passionate during sex! Many people had this conception that dragons were big, scaly lizards with little emotion. And even if Tristan himself knew better, the bias still fluttered around in his subconscious. Perhaps this was why he found himself enjoying the ways he could make this big, scaly dragon react.

The white-scaled dragoness shuddered from the combination of those probing fingers and the steady thumbing of her clit. Tristan kept up the rhythmic motions, gradually increasing his speed until he felt the dragon shudder and buck beneath him. Whitewillow threw her head backward, arching her neck and curling her large, pale wings around her flanks. Her thick thighs trembled and quivered as the dragoness grinded herself against Tristan's hand as her large, horn-shaped clitoris began to throb with more urgency. He was straddling Whitewillow's large, muscular tail, and he grunted in surprise as he felt it rise up underneath him.

Tristan felt his erection harden again as he watched her writhe in ecstasy from his two hands. He was already thinking about round two, and now that he knew what made a dragon tick, he'd be able to give her exactly what she needed.

Whitewillow's red eyes closed in concentration, and her lips pulled back in a snarl. "Almost … there … Rrrrr. Do not stop, dear human. Let us share … in this glorious raashka!"

The dragoness growled loudly, her lungs blasting his face with hot air as her climax approached. Tristan worked furiously on the dragoness' clitoris, massaging the horn-shaped organ between his fingertips as it throbbed and swelled up even larger. His other hand explored the dragon's wet vulva, pistoning in and out of the tight folds of her plump, rosy slit. As Whitewillow's growls increased in intensity, Tristan felt the dragon's vent slacken around his fingers, almost like her body was inviting him in deeper.

And then, with a heaving thrust of her haunches, Whitewillow climaxed. The dragoness arched her hips upward off the ground, throwing her head back and letting out a loud, rumbling growl that made the rickety walls of the shelter creak. Her vent clenched hard and her clit seized between his fingers. Tristan couldn't even pull his fingers from her clenching vent; she squeezed and pulled him in, squirting droplets of hot dragoness fluids onto his forearm.

Whitewillow writhed and squirmed against the matted pelts and musty draw, her hind legs kicking the air. Her wings beat the air wildly, sending a shower of dust particles into the air above their heads. The dragoness' tail thrashed violently underneath Tristan, slapping his thighs and lifting him off the ground. Tristan felt as if he were riding a bucking bronco!

"W-woah!" he stammered, trying not to lose his balance.

The dragon's climax lasted for what seemed like a full minute, and all Tristan could do was to keep wailing away on the scaly creature's throbbing clit. The beastly sounds coming out of Whitewillow's mouth sounded terrifying, but they were nothing less than pure bliss. Tristan didn't let up, determined to keep working her clit until it was too much. His ministrations drove the orgasmic dragon deeper into delirium. By the time Whitewillow finally settled down, Tristan's forearms were aching from the exertion.

Slowly, the great scaled creature relaxed, panting heavily. The dim moonlight that shone through the holes of the walls danced across her heaving chest. Whitewillow leaned forward, freeing her wings from out under her body.

Chinnng!

Her wings clashed together, creating the mysterious chime of her bronze disks. The dragoness then repeated her strange prayer.

When she finished, her red eyes opened to stare back at Tristan. "Maarthak ruul! Thank you human. You honor my body, and in return, the Eternal Water Dragon smiles upon you."

Tristan watched the panting dragoness with curiosity. He felt he could be honest with her. "So how did I do, as far as dragon-pleasuring goes?"

Whitewillow churred affectionately. "For your first time? Better than most. I was hoping you would have used your mouth: I have two holes that remain sadly un-licked."

Tristan dropped his gaze, feeling awkward. He was still getting used to the overpowering musk of a dragon's slit, and didn't even want to think about what that tasted like. "There's a lot to get used to … maybe next time."

The dragon's eyes narrowed to slits, and she let out a peeved growl. But Whitewillow was a patient lover; her human's comfort was more important than her own desires. "Next time. I shall remember that."

Tristan gulped.

Whitewillow flexed her tail upward, and with a yelp, Tristan fell forward onto her scaly belly. "I thoroughly enjoyed the warm-up, cherished human. But now it is time," she growled. "Time to boldly enter a dragon's cave, and plunder her bountiful riches."

Tristan couldn't help but laugh as he looked up at the albino dragon's face. He noted her deliberate use of the Common Tongue word for her kind. "Do you use that line often?"

Whitewillow revealed her large teeth in a salacious grin. "Only on the humans I like."

Tristan reached down and grabbed his manhood, feeling a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Even though his fingers had been inside of her, it seemed like a big step to stick his dick into a big, scaly dragon. No matter how many times Tristan pushed the stigma out of his mind, it kept coming back.

Whitewillow cooed softly as Tristan pressed the head of his cock against her scaled vulva. By now the dragoness was so aroused that her horn-like clitoris was peeking out of her slit. He gently rubbed his cock against her sensitive spire, already swooning from the heat of her cloister on his sensitive tip. Whitewillow spread her hind legs wider apart, opening up her warm tunnel for him. He wondered just how much a human could satisfy a dragon of her size.

"I hate to admit that I'm not quite as hung as a dragon …"

Whitewillow huffed in annoyance. "Karasst maal. You homn are so obsessed with your penis size! It matters little for the draa. You will rub against my pleasure horn on every thrust."

Tristan smirked. "Sounds like a nice feature to have."

He took a breath, mentally preparing himself. As he pushed forward, he watched the tip of his cock part the scaled cleft of the dragon's swollen, rosy vulva. Whitewillow was already drenched from her previous orgasm, and her slippery fluids smeared all over his manhood. As Tristan's cock slid inside, he gasped at the sudden heat – it felt like he was sliding into a furnace.

"Spa Club, here I come …" he muttered to himself.

He pushed further, taking Whitewillow all the way until his ballsack rested firmly against her soaking wet slit. The intense heat of a dragon's vent felt on the very threshold of bearable. "Gods, you're so hot!"

"Thank you, human," Whitewillow churred. "Do you like how my cave feels?"

"Yeah, it–Auguh!"

A pleasured moan escaped Tristan's lips as the dragoness clenched her egg-laying muscles hard, squeezing his cock in all manner of delicious ways. Her muscles squeezed and contorted in waves, pulling at his shaft like it was hungry for more. It sent shivers up his spine and left him gasping for air.

Watching Tristan carefully, Whitewillow released her grip slowly, allowing the human to get his bearings.

"That was amazing. A little warning next time?"

Whitewillow fluttered her spines. "Kriss maar. I take pleasure in doing that to every human who first enters me."

Tristan stroked the dragon's warm belly scutes. "You certainly love to get a reaction."

"You learn quick." Whitewillow chuffed laughter, squeezing him again. "We draa prefer to be in control. Now take me, human. Rejoice in the union of our bodies, and consummate our raashka."

"Such flowery language! As you wish, my dragoness," he playfully imitated her.

Whitewillow wiggled in delight at his words. "You flatter me, cherished human."

Tristan pulled his cock out of her clutching vent until only the tip remained, and began a slow, sensual pace. Whitewillow churred in appreciation, laying herself back to watch her human mate with possessive desire. The dragoness' tail slithered around his waist, entwining him in an intimate, scaly embrace. The move surprised Tristan, who felt as if a snake had just wrapped him up! The dragoness' hind legs reached up to stroke him as she rocked her hips gently against his manhood. Every stroke of his cock rubbed the length of her vent and the tip of her pleasure horn, filling both human and dragon with mutual pleasure.

"Yes, yessss! Maressh vol. Keep going, sweet human," she churred, caressing his cheeks with her hind toes. Her thumb-like dewclaws dug into his flesh without breaking skin. "Feel my scales, savor my heat, taste my scent in the air. Bask in this glorious union of draa and homn, and know that Taishui graces us with her divine presence!"

Tristan groaned. "Gods, your religion is weird."

Whitewillow's eyes narrowed. Instead of lashing out, as most dragons would do, the priestess responded by clenching her vent tight around Tristan's manhood, causing him to moan. The dragoness took particular delight in his moans: she savored them as a human may do to music.

Tristan swore loudly as Whitewillow's silken vent massaged his shaft. His hands moved to her scaly belly, feeling her smooth scutes on his fingers as he pumped in and out of her hot tunnel. Each thrust made the dragoness moan in delight, pushing her tongue out of her mouth to lick at his earlobe. He looked up at her, constantly amazed at this dragon's gentle intimacy.

"Mmm, your thrusts honor me," Whitewillow sighed with pleasure. "I could happily spend the entire night with you inside my slit."

Tristan's hands wandered along the dragon's scaly flanks, feeling the ribs and muscle underneath. Whitewillow's ribs rose and fell with her soft, heavy panting. He then moved up to her broad chest, where he couldn't help but be disappointed in the dragon's flat, armored pectorals.

"Searching for something?" Whitewillow flitted out her tongue.

"Dragons are missing some of my favorite, uh … assets."

"The draa have better assets," she growled, caressing him with her finned tail.

He laughed. "You have scaly assets."

"Scaly is better."

"That's a matter of opinion."

The dragon's eyes narrowed. She clenched her internal muscles hard around Tristan's girth, causing him to gasp in pleasure.

"Okay, you got me there." he moaned, continuing to thrust into her.

Whitewillow smiled, her draconic ego satisfied for now. The white-scaled dragoness closed her eyes slowly, growling softly to herself as she enjoyed her human's rhythmic thrusts. Her mind wandered to her patron goddess, and she drew her forefeet together, humming quietly to herself.

"Are you … meditating?" Tristan slowed his thrusts. "Am I that boring?"

Whitewillow kept her eyes shut. "Maara fesh rii ut Taishui. This is the best time for a holy courtesan to meditate, dear human."

Tristan didn't know what to say to that, so he focused on his efforts on his lovemaking. As he continued to thrust into the dragon's steamy hot cave, he looked down at her magnificent form, watching the dim orange torchlight play across her white scales. He admired Whitewillow's bestial musculature, seeing the way her scaly hide flexed and strained with each thrust. In that moment, he was reminded of the dragon's sheer strength, and how careful Whitewillow had been to not hurt him during sex. He had pet kittens with claws more dangerous than this dragon! A testament to her priestly training, he presumed.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Whitewillow suddenly spoke. "I can feel her gaze upon us. Tashui approves of our union."

Tristan tried his best not to think about some ephemeral deity watching him have sex with a dragon. "What does that even mean?"

The dragoness opened her eyes, and her slit pupils focused on Tristan. "It means that she grants us her blessing. Now fuck me harder."

Tristan laughed, and began to put more force in his thrusts. Soon, the cramped shelter became full with the sounds of wet smacks of scales on skin. The heat of the dragon's vent radiated around his groin, making Tristan sweat. Whitewillow continued to fan him with her finned tail, causing chills to run down his spine. Human and dragon were joined in an exotic act of passion that filled the squalid shelter with pleasured groans and lusty growls.

Tristan gasped and looked down at the sudden wave-like sensation on his stomach. He had no idea that dragons could undulate like a snake: it felt like her plated belly scutes were pulling at his skin! Each time Tristan thought he had gotten accustomed to one aspect of laying with a dragon, another surprise awaited him. Like how hot her vent felt, or how her tail could constrict like a snake, and now this serpentine slithering of her belly scutes. Tristan had read about this: the slithering reflex was a vestigial trait in the ancestors of dragons: a pointless evolutionary carryover, as they have since evolved the strong legs needed for walking and takeoff.

There was so much to contend with, so many strange and exciting things to discover about Whitewillow. The biologist in him was fascinated by her species; their biology, physiology, anatomy, and psychology. But he was equally captivated by the dragon's pale beauty. From the elegant curve of her ivory neck, to the graceful arch of her wingtips, to her lithe tail curled around his waist. Her white thighs were taut with muscle, and her chest rose and fell with deep breaths. When he looked into her crimson eyes, Tristan saw intelligence and wit reflected there. Her gaze was magical and mesmerizing.

Whitewillow leaned forward, licking his face with quick, eager laps, spreading thick drool across his skin. Even laying on top of the white dragon, Tristan's head reached no further than her scaly chest, but Whitewillow's long, flexible neck bridged the distance. The dragon's long tongue was both overwhelming and strangely erotic. When she came close enough to kiss him, he willingly accepted her open maw on his lips.

Tristan had never dreamed of getting kissed by a dragon before today, and he hadn't known what to expect. But now he knew how dragons enjoyed their kisses – there was little lip action involved, but instead he experienced passionate, wet affairs where tongues danced wildly with abandon. The forked tip was surprisingly dexterous, and it easily found its way past his teeth and around his tongue. Earlier, Tristan had been put off by the dragon's large, invading tongue. But now in the heat of the moment, he returned the favor, sucking at the forked tip as he continued pumping his cock in and out of her clenching cavern.

Whitewillow let out a loud cry of satisfaction, blasting Tristan's face with acrid dragonbreath and fogging up his circular glasses again. She could tell that Tristan was growing more and more comfortable, and she was proud of him for overcoming the initial awkwardness of sharing such intimate vulnerability with another species. She hoped that meant he was ready to let her unwind, and go at her own pace. The dragon's feral lust bubbled up inside, waiting to be let out like a caged beast.

"Human, look into my eyes. Share this moment with me." Her scaly forepaws cupped his cheeks, holding him firmly against her muzzle. As Tristan peered into the dragon's slit-pupil eyes, he saw a wealth of emotion reflected within those crimson reptilian orbs: longing, curiosity, arousal, possessive desire. Whitewillow's gaze was so bestial, yet so full of intelligence and spark. For a moment, Tristan was lost in her beauty.

The alabaster dragoness licked him on the cheek. "Thu gnar raz'zakk. I cherish you, sweet human."

"Whitewilllow," he paused, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Tonight's been … weirdly amazing. Thank you for convincing me to lay with you."

The white-scaled dragoness leaned in for a kiss, clenching her vaginal muscles around him again. "Mmm, you are most welcome, dearest Tristan. Do you trust me?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

The dragon's red eyes flashed with feral delight. "Narthuus."

Tristan's eyes opened wide as the dragoness wrapped her forelegs around his back. He felt her muscular thighs cross around him, locking him in place. With her newfound leverage, Whitewillow pressed downward with her forefeet, grinding Tristan into her plate-like belly scutes. With each thrust, she drove her tail against the small of his back, forcing him deeper into her fiery depths.

Tristan struggled under the overwhelming intensity of her sudden aggressiveness. Her claws dug into his skin as she rocked her haunches upward. Her powerful vaginal muscles squeezed and tugged on his manhood with an eager hunger.

"G-gods!" he gasped.

"Rrrr …" she growled into his ear. "Is this too much?"

Tristan moaned in response to the dragon's internal muscles tugging at his shaft.

"Mmm … I did not think so."

Whitewillow's growls intensified. He tried to ignore the playful nips and bites, trusting that she wouldn't get too excited. Her rapid breathing washed over him: harsh, rhythmic huffing, like blasts of campfire smoke on his nose. His glasses became too fogged-up to see out of! The white-scaled dragoness dug her talons into his back, stopping just short of breaking the skin. Tristan was overtaken by her aggressive enthusiasm. Whitewillow's wild passion and draconic dominance had fully come out, leaving Tristan struggling to keep up.

"Dragons love being in control", she had said to him.

Tristan found his hips moving on their own accord, matching the dragon's gyrations. His hands moved up her scaly flanks as he pumped his pelvis against hers. Her tail slithered around his right leg, squeezing it tight between her muscular coils. With each thrust, Tristan felt himself pushed deeper and deeper inside the dragon's snug tunnel. Every time he bottomed out, the walls of her passage clenched tightly around him, squeezing him with delicious pressure.

Whitewillow pulled away from Tristan's neck, kissing his cheek, then nibbling at his chin and jawline. She ran her tongue along his throat, savoring his salty skin. The dragoness' breath grew ragged, her muscles tensed with anticipation. She pulled him in tighter still until he could feel her clit poking against him. Then she slammed herself backward onto him again, burying every inch of his length into her fiery furnace. Tristan cried out loudly when her pelvic floor tightened around his cock, squeezing hard against the sensitive spot on the underside of his tip.

Tristan could tell his scaly partner was getting closer to orgasm: her breath was ragged and labored, her scaly hindlegs trembling from pleasure. Low growls filled the cramped shelter. The dragoness was becoming more feral, and that realization both scared and excited Tristan, who didn't know if he would be able to handle the way her vent muscles contracted during orgasm. He kept up the steady rhythm of thrusts, knowing that if he slowed down just slightly, he would lose her attention.

While Tristan might've wanted to last longer, Whitewillow wasn't interested in endurance: she simply couldn't wait to climax. And there was little to prepare Tristan for what a dragon's climax felt like.

It started with the slackening of Whitewillow's vent: her muscles relaxed deep within her, as if welcoming Tristan in deeper. A few seconds later, Whitewillow bucked violently against him, her entire body shaking as though electrocuted. Deep, guttural growls reverberated in the dragon's throat as her massive body convulsed, thrashing around until every muscle contracted at once, releasing waves of pleasure throughout her body. The dragon's cavern clenched with rhythmic pulses, as if her body was designed to milk a male of his seed. A hot gush of fluids spread all over his crotch, dripping down his balls as her vent pulsated and squirted all over him.

Tristan gasped and held on for dear life, finding it too much stimulation to keep up his thrusts. Instead he grabbed hold of her scaly flanks, using them to brace himself as he rode out the stormy bucking her release. He let the dragon's cavern work his shaft, spasming and caressing his cock with wanton intensity. It made Tristan want to come right away, but he fought through the urge, determined to prolong this experience.

Whitewillow's tremors slowly subsided after a minute, and the panting dragoness regained her wits.

Chinnng!

Tristan flinched. "Do you do that every time?"

"Ferduus." the dragoness leaned in to lick his cheek. "My tingsha must ring at least once more: you have yet to spill your seed in me."

"I'm working on it," Tristan groaned.

"Good. Do not stop," she growled, her curved talons digging into his back. "If you hurry, you can make me climax once more."

"I suppose it's never wise to refuse a dragon," Tristan replied, causing Whitewillow to churr with flattery.

Tristan resumed his aggressive pounding. Whitewillow's scaly forelimbs crossed behind his back, while her muscular hind legs crossed around his hips, locking him in place. In addition to the intimate contact, this also helped prevent Tristan from sliding off her sweat-slickened belly scutes. The dragoness ground herself against him with increasing force, her finned tail lashing about erratically and banging the fragile walls of the ramshackle roost. Each pound of Tristan's hips was met with an upward roll of the dragon's haunches. She used her tail to push off the ground, thrusting her upward to meet him. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony: an erotic dance of scale and skin.

Whitewillow feverishly nibbled at his ear, whispering encouraging words on her forked tongue. "Maar fek roh untuu draa. Empty your seed into my scaly belly, human. Consummate this union of draa and homn; savor the conclusion of our interspecies rapture!"

"Stop making it weird!" Tristan groaned.

Whitewillow growled lustfully, nipping his ear. "No. I am close."

Whitewillow began to growl once more as another climax overtook her. Tristan felt his member churring in her hot liquid vent as she clenched and unclenched around his throbbing cock. Her muscles were like a wet vice gripping him, pulling him in deeper with each successive stroke. It felt like her body was begging him to join her in orgasm. This time, he let himself succumb to the dragon's needy clenching. He felt the pressure swelling up in his groin, his whole body began to tingle. He felt his balls tighten, preparing for his imminent explosion. He thrust forward one final time and buried himself deeply inside her, feeling her thick vaginal muscles clamp down around his throbbing member.

"Fuck … fuck, I'm coming, too!"

Tristan moaned as the first spurt of seed splashed deep within the dragon's depths. Whitewillow's claws tightened around him as her muscular vent squeezed around his girth.

"Yes, human! Give me the seed my slit has been waiting for!"

The dragon's muscles constricted around him, milking the cum from his shaft. Her tail lashed wildly as her wings beat frantically, whipping up the musty air of the shelter. The stimulation was nearly too much for Tristan, who felt like the dragon had taken control of his cock. But Whitewillow reveled in it all, savoring each throb of his manhood and the spurt of warm fluid it deposited within her depths. Such a sweet sensation had to be cherished for each passing second. She continued to squeeze and milk him, drawing out the last drops of semen until his body went limp beneath her.

Chinnng! Chinnng!

Two chimes this time, one for each orgasm. Whitewillow made one final prayer to her goddess. Tristan listened to her murmured chant as he lay on her belly scutes, spent and exhausted, basking in the afterglow of their mutual orgasm.

"That was …" Tristan panted. "Was …"

"Felek nol shii! It was glorious, cherished human. The sweet raashka we created was the finest I have savored since arriving in Concordia." She licked him on the cheek lovingly. "Taishui smiles upon you. The Eternal Water Dragon has given you a great blessing."

"Uh, thanks, Taishui?" Tristan muttered.

Whitewillow churred into his ear. "I sense her presence, and she most certainly appreciates your graciousness."

Tristan didn't know what to say to that. His mind was addled from the intense orgasm still, and he was too tired to think about it. His cock slowly softened in the dragon's toasty creampied slit, feeling it give off the occasional clenching aftershock.

Whitewillow ducked her snout into Tristan's armpit, huffing his spicy musk and flitting out her tongue. "Mmm, homn always smell so good after mating," she cooed. She began licking up his sweat, savoring the saltiness. "Taste good, too. Human pheromones exhilarate me."

Tristan couldn't smell anything other than the oppressive stench of dragon sex. "Humans don't have pheromones."

Whitewillow huffed his scent again, letting out a pleasured growl. "Nississ homn roh. Yes they do. The homn have senses too dull to appreciate them."

Dragon noses were sensitive, but it was their tongues that could sense the pheromones that humans released. Tristan knew they could taste the air much like snakes, but he hadn't realized that there were things in his body odor that he couldn't discern. Whatever Whitewillow smelled, she clearly loved it.

Whitewillow tensed up and extended her four legs in the air, shivering as she stretched. "Sit up for me, dear human. My wing shoulders ache from laying on them."

Tristan slid off the dragon, pulling out of her with a wet squelch. His manhood, free of Whitewillow's heated vent, was hit by a rush of cold evening air, causing him to shiver. The pullout caused another wave of her musk to hit his nose, and Tristan noted how the smell was all over him as well.

Whitewillow rolled to her side, taking care not to disturb the fragile walls of the shelter. She curled around Tristan in a ball, and before he knew it, he was once again caught up in a scaly embrace of wings, tail, and claws. Whitewillow dove in for another dragon kiss, then licked down his neck, churring warmly.\

"I can't believe I finally joined the Spa Club," Tristan muttered, chuckling to himself.

Whitewillow cocked her head. "Explain this Spa Club."

"Oh, it's this in-joke I heard back in King's College …"

Whitewillow grew excited as Tristan explained the concept to her. "I must visit this college. Think of how many homn I could bring membership to!"

Tristan let out an uneasy laugh. "Uh, dragons aren't allowed on campus. Not anymore."

Whitewillow shrugged off the notion. "Nill thaak. We draa go where we please."

"Except near the Dragon Hunter's Guild."

"… except near the guild," Whitewillow reluctantly conceded.

Tristan laid against the matted pelts, nestled in the warm scales of Whitewillow's embrace, and relaxed in silence. Whitewillow licked down his body with loving attention, her claws gently holding him close to her belly scutes. While Whitewillow was distracted by the salt of his sweat, Tristan was lost in thought, mulling over the realization that he had just had sex with a big, scaly dragon. A whirlwind of worries flooded his mind, from the possibility of getting shunned from the guild, to the social stigma of laying with a beast.

Tristan had heard that dragon fucking was an intense, brief, and bestial affair. They were notorious for biting and clawing when they got too excited. Dragon scales were tough and could handle such roughness, but human skin was another story. Many wildborn cared little if they harmed their human partners during moments of passion, and Tristan had heard rumors of interspecies trysts turning deadly.

But Whitewillow's gentle intimacy threw that stereotype out the window. Her calm, practiced techniques showed a level of finesse that Tristan had been wholly unprepared for, and her loving, amorous nature contrasted sharply with her species' reputation. Looking back, Tristan realized that a dragon had mated him with more tenderness than any human he had laid with before … and that left him questioning many things about both dragons and himself.

Eventually, Whitewillow broke the silence. "Kallak duu maar rii. This has been fun. But this roost is cramped, and I must stretch."

Uncoiling herself from the scaly embrace, Whitewillow rolled to her feet and ducked out of the ramshackle roost. Tristan watched in the fading torchlight as the white-scaled dragoness arched her spine like a feline, curling her tail high. She then curled her neck back and caught her tail in her teeth, pulling herself at both ends to stretch her vertebrae. Tristan watched, mesmerized by the dragon's graceful flexibility. She extended her wings in the cool night air, unfurling them like carefully-folded stationery. The dragon's pinkish wings stretched high above her head like a ship's sails, reaching some twenty feet in the air. Whitewillow then flapped a few times before tucking her wings neatly onto her back.

Tristan crawled out of the shelter, joining her. The cool air washed over his sweaty skin, making him shiver. He glanced out across the rooftops of Concordia, seeing a beautiful sea of gas lamplights and towering buildings huddled together like nesting birds. He had never seen the city from this high up before. The sky overhead was clear tonight; no clouds marred the view of stars twinkling brightly beyond the horizon. Tristan looked at the dazzling firmament, wondering of Zenshin far across the Great Sea. Were these same lights shining down on Whitewillow's homeland?

After Whitewillow was done stretching, she wrapped a leathery wing around Tristan. "So, human, what did you think for your first time with a draa?"

Tristan flinched as his mind was dragged back to the present. He blew out a heavy sigh between pursed lips, not sure with what he was comfortable admitting. "There was a lot to get used to. But once I did … wow! That was incredible."

Whitewillow chuckled, nipping at his skin. "Felis ziim duu. The more you do it, the more you shall enjoy it."

Tristan frowned. He wasn't exactly expecting this to be a regular occurrence. But he didn't object to the notion, either. "I, uh … I don't know if we can do this again."

"What do you mean?"

"I need to figure out some things with the guild. Work out a way to keep you a secret. Gods …" Even those words had him wracked with guilt. Tristan couldn't help but feel he was betraying not only his guildmates, but his identity.

Whitewillow lapped at his cheek, reassuring him. "I am more than willing to accommodate your secrecy, as long as you are willing to accommodate my lust."

The pair stood in silence for a while, studying the night sky.

A distant thrumming noise came from the left, and Tristan looked up to see the dusky shape of a floating zeppelin barge against the dim night sky, illuminated only by the pale moonlight.

"Weird … look at that," Tristan pointed out to the fluttering outline of wings. At least three dragons were pulling the bamboo dirigible.

Whitewillow tilted her snout up to the sky. "I thought Dragonwing Express only ran zeppelins in the daylight."

Tristan's eyes narrowed. "They do. City-wide ordinance suspends all operations after dusk. Night flying is too dangerous."

The floating barge passed overhead with a woosh, heading north toward the Royal Citadel. The pair watched in silence for a moment as the zeppelin glided into the distance, until all Tristan could see was a moving blob against the dark, starry sky.

"That dirigible is flying awfully low. They're gonna get warning shots flying that close to the citadel."

Suddenly, the dirigible began to nosedive. Whitewillow's spines flared out in alarm. "I sense … zussu."

Moments later, a massive fireball lit up the cityscape. The Royal Citadel's south watchtower exploded like a volcano, sending debris raining down on nearby rooftops. Seconds later, Tristan heard the boom: a thunderous shockwave that shot through the entire city. Black smoke billowed above the city skyline, rising up like an angry cloud that blotted out the night stars.

Whitewillow took a step back, aghast. "By Taishui …"

A chill ran down Tristan's spine. "I need to go. Now."

TO BE CONTINUED

Post-story notes (you know I gotta write them):

~ Congrats on making it through the end of a VERY long story! Unless you cheated and skipped ahead, which instead of congrats, I offer this look of sadness: ;~;

~ This story was commissioned by :iconnarse: ! I never would have started this project without his enthusiastic support, so send him some love.

~ Whitewillow's character started as a personal challenge. I wanted to take the silliest, most cringy smut trope I could think of, and approach it with realism and gravitas. So I came up with a dragon that belongs to a sex cult. It's been fun throwing this ridiculous character into a world of people that don't understand her!

~ Oh yeah, it's an inter-species sex cult, of course. None of that silly dragon-on-dragon stuff! It had to be human-on-dragon ... entirely for plot purposes, of course. The concept of a dragon that's sexually attracted to humans had absolutely nothing to do with my decision.

~ This was my biggest project yet, and there's so much room for it to grow! I want to continue improving my craft, so I can turn this into the best smut story I've ever written. That probably shouldn't be too hard, as the plot of my previous stories were an afterthought that was hastily crammed in around the copious amounts of shameless smut.

~ Did I say shameless? That's a lie. I have SO MUCH shame.

~ I'm approaching this story with a plot-centric mindset. I've already put in far more effort into storyboarding and plot framework than I have to any other fic on this site so far. I want to deliver a solid story that I can continue to enjoy writing even when I get tired of writing the smut.

~ That's my secret, Cap: I'm always tired of writing smut.

~ Funny how I keep saying that after every story, yet the smut here is well over 10,000 words long. I can't NOT embellish the fuck out of everything. I genuinely did not want to write out 10k words of dragon smut! These things just happen.