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The Warden of South Vale

The sound of billowing wings and pattering stomps broke the peaceful silence. I lowered my book and tilted my head. Outside of my small cottage, I heard the jangling of metal and a loud thump. Then came some awkward pawing at the door, like a dog that wanted in. But this was no dog: the creature's rapturous claws sounded like they were peeling shavings off the painted wood. I weighed my options: to answer the door or hope it gave up. To be honest, I wasn't really in the mood for this. Not tonight. I was so close to finishing this novel.

In the nearby stable, I heard my mare neigh in trepidation – she must have caught the scent of my new guest. More thumping, more scratching. Silence. The impatient clicking of pacing claws. Back and forth, back and forth. Then, a loud thud, and the creaking of brass hinge, and a quiet grunt. More silence. Then, a lonely yowl, throaty and reverberating. I sighed as I made my decision. I turned up the oil lamp, picked it up, and pushed myself out of my chair with a groan. I treaded to the other side of my humble cottage, undid the iron latch, and swung the door open. Sure enough, there's a dragon waiting for me.

I gasped when I saw the creature's cascade of yellow and green hues. I recognized the breed, though I've never seen one up close before. Golden Scalehawks had an unmistakable coat of golden-lime scales, covered with tiny flecks of black like someone flicked it with a wet paintbrush all over. Ridged, ebony horns sprouted from the back of its head, with smaller, stumpy gnarls that studded its jawline. A pair of narrow, windswept ears stood at high alert, and it ruffled its graceful yellow wings in apprehension. The dragon looked up at me with innocent emerald eyes, averted eye contact in a show of submissiveness, then snuck another peek back up at me.

Scalehawks are aptly named: they're small, mountain-dwelling dragons that prey on birds and small game, though the occasional farmer's goat was a tempting treat. Built for speed and maneuverability, their scales aren't the toughest, and a well-aimed shot from a strong enough crossbow can take one out. Golden Scalehawks are shy by nature and especially wary of humans. They're often hunted for their beautiful hide, and are an incredibly rare sight nowadays.

This is why I was surprised to see one had so willingly approached my doorstep. The creature was roughly as tall as a wolf: from snout to tail it measured roughly seven feet long, with shoulders that only came up to my thighs. Scalehawks aren't the largest breed, and this one's not even fully grown. But that shouldn't matter: it's old enough to get what it's searching for.

It's searching for sex, of course. Sex ... with a human.

This has been going on for several years, and, honestly … I'm long past any rational explanations. I won't deny that it's bizarre and embarrassing and a little disgusting. It's just, that … well, I try not to think about it too much. I don't think anyone knows, thank goodness ... though I've had visitors notice the occasional shed dragonscale in a dusty corner, or the claw marks on the floor.

My first time was not my proudest moment. She was a rescue I found while hunting: a broken wing, infected wounds, delirious from fever. I set her broken bones, medicated her, and kept her warm in my stable (much to my horse's chagrin!). Though it was difficult getting her to tolerate me, we slowly established a level of trust, and eventually even affection. As the weeks passed and her strength returned, she eventually entered her heat. The scaly little temptress tried to entice me many times, and I was never interested. But dragons … they're stubborn and prideful to a fault, and if there's one thing they don't like, it's not getting their way.

One night, I had favored a bottle of whiskey, and ... well, I think she could sense my weakness. The way she slipped through the window, slithered under my covers, and nudged my legs apart with her snout … it felt shamefully arousing, and I was too weary to stop her this time. As a forest warden, I spend most of my time alone in the wilderness of South Vale, tracking goblins and felling ghouls to keep the nearby trade routes safe. So, I don't exactly get a lot of chances to mingle. That dragoness was the first time I had had sex all year. It was odd, uncomfortable, and kind of scary ... but also wild and exhilarating. So, it might have happened again the next day. And the day after that …

I learned a lot about dragons that summer. Beneath their fierce exterior lay a subtle grace, gentle affection, and fiery intelligence, and I became fascinated with their complex social behaviors. And after the dragoness healed up enough to return to the wild, I was genuinely sad to see her leave.

I wasn't expecting it to become a regular occurrence. In fact, I was ready to forget the experience altogether … however, the dragoness did not. Because she came back, weeks later, with a friend. Then, more unfamiliar dragons started showing up. It's as if word got around amongst dragons that somewhere in the woods beyond the village, there's a kind human that will mate with you. And I was apparently given glowing reviews!

If there's one thing most folk know about dragons, it's that they'll mount anything that moves … and even a few things that don't. So for years now, I've been getting occasional visits from sexually curious dragons, mostly during their breeding season. I resisted at first, but now ... I just go along with it. As long as the dragons don't hurt me, and they leave happy, I see no harm in it. And, I'll admit that this odd arrangement does have its perks ...

The Scalehawk tentatively picked up a knapsack in its jaws. The clinking of metal could be heard inside. I regarded its cautious optimism with a smile, careful not to show any teeth. The dragon presented the dirty, torn bag to me and took a step back, looking up at me expectantly.

Dragons are an odd sort: I've never once asked for a gift, but each brings one all the same. Maybe they're aware that humans don't normally do this sort of thing with dragons, and they feel obliged to offer compensation. Or maybe this ritual of gift-giving is just how dragon society works, and they expect humans to be no different. Either way, I've always been intrigued that dragons – at least, conceptually – understand the act of exchanging objects of value for rendered services. Kobolds, goblins, and other beast races may do it, too … but dragons are the only ones on four legs. The only problem is that dragons have a quirky sense of what's considered valuable ...

I used to get small things: baubles, trinkets, junk … but over time I've built up a reputation of trustworthiness, and dragons seem to hold trust in high regard. So the gift-giving became more elaborate, more ritualized. I've made decent coin from dragons since this whole thing started. Last year, the trading I did with their goods were what helped me get through the winter. Hanging up on my mantle is a knight's sword, scabbard, and shield … all in excellent – albeit singed – condition. And it's not just me that benefits from these unorthodox visits: over the past few years, dragon attacks on the nearby village have practically disappeared. The dragons, being territorial creatures, probably consider that village my "territory" as well. I know all the livestock farmers are exceedingly grateful, though I'd never have the audacity to tell them why.

I opened the worn knapsack: the rough make and stench suggested it was taken from some unfortunate kobold. Inside there's some shiny rocks, raw quartz, some old coins – both human and goblin minted. Tempered steel arrowheads, bodkin point: the type used for puncturing armor … or dragon scales. A banged-up ring of keys that opens who knows what. A dirty, battered traveler's cooking pot. A dwarven belt buckle with some recently-chewed leather still attached. Some freshly-picked wildflowers. And several potatoes. I always get potatoes. The dragons think I love potatoes for some reason. I don't even know where they get so many potatoes.

The wildflowers gave me pause: their stems were jumbled together with eagle feathers, and loosely wound up in horsehair, like some sort of bouquet. Flowers, of course, are useless to dragons, but are a big part of human society. It's always fascinating, what dragons pick up on from observing us. This wasn't just a gift … it was art!

I glanced back at the dragon, noting its wide-eyed look of hope. Its forepaws tapped anxiously on the wooden porch as he waited for my reaction. Though hardly the most extravagant of gifts, this was an extremely generous offering for a juvenile, who was unlikely to have a large hoard at this age. The little scamp must really want my company! So as tempting as it was to return to my book, I formally bowed in acknowledgement and took the sack with me, beckoning the Scalehawk inside with a sweep of my hand. Returning the bow, the dragon leaned forward, lowering its chest to the ground and splaying its wings out. The ritual was complete.

As I led the dragon inside, I peeked under its tail. When I saw a tight, scaled ballsack behind its hind legs, I frowned. I'd prefer a dragoness, but I don't mind entertaining a drake as long as they don't insist on mounting me. Dragons were notoriously virile creatures, and in most cases their dragonhood is simply too big. It's caused some altercations in the past, but in the end, they come to me … so I make the rules. If they become too aggressive, I'll toss their gift at their feet. And though a dragon could overpower me at that point, they're too humiliated to try. My rejection of their gift hurts them more than any attack I could muster. It's funny … underneath all that pomp and swagger, dragons are surprisingly sensitive creatures.

I don't think I'll have trouble with this one, though. Judging from his size and the length of his horns, he's still a juvenile, and juvenile dragons were expected to act acquiescent toward adults.

The Golden Scalehawk stepped inside and looked around my cabin with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty at my human "hoard" … the chairs, tables, woodworking tools, hunting and tracking gear, ornamental furs, and various knickknacks I've collected through my years. He cautiously nudged my crossbow leaning against a stool, and when it fell over he jumped back with a yelp. He then ruffled his wings and turned away, as if nothing ever happened.

I walked him past my blazing fireplace, his sharp claws clicking on my seasoned wooden floor. His lemon-lime scales radiated a beautiful golden iridescence in the warm glow. He paused to study the fire, as many other dragons in his place have done. As he watched the crackling flame, I studied their reflection in his emerald, slit-pupil eyes. Dragons seem to think they "own" fire just because they can produce it on demand. It's never sat well with them that we've created ways to artificially produce flame. At least, that's my theory.

I opened the door to my bedroom and beckoned the Scalehawk inside. The indignant juvenile lingered at the hearth, then coughed a burp of flame in it's direction, as if to say that he could do better. He then carefully stepped forward into the bedroom, taking in the sight of all these strange human furnishings.

I set down my oil lamp on the nightstand and the wick flickered in the cool air. The window was open, but this room shared a wall with the back of the fireplace, and the masonry radiated heat. The juvenile raised his head and his nostrils flared. His head turned. He probably smelled the lingering scent of all the drakes and dragonesses that came before him. Knowing others have been here, in my "den" ... that seemed to help him relax.

Not one for formality, I wasted no time in undoing my belt. As I stripped, the young Scalehawk watched with an innocent fascination. I think clothing intrigues dragons – how we make it, what the colors and buttons mean, how come we wear it even if it's hot outside. Now in the nude, I sat down on the edge of my squeaky bed and reached my hand out. Though I'm fit for my age, I'm a bit on the hairy side … that's something that dragons don't mind, thankfully. In fact, some seem to like it. But this young one was focused on simpler things: the Scalehawk's eyes were glued to the space between my legs, studying my unfamiliar manhood. I can only imagine what's going through the young drake's mind. Where's his scaly sheath? Why does it hang out when it's not erect? What's with all the hair down there?

I touched his scaled snout, and the dragon flinched and ducked in reflex. I tried again, this time, slower. Gently, my fingers graced his cheek, running over the bumps of each scale. I kept my eye contact and smiled, speaking words of encouragement in a low, quiet voice. I doubt he knew much in the way of human words, but it didn't really matter: my calming tone conveyed my intentions well enough.

The Scalehawk stood stiff, uncertain at my caress. He might not know that we humans do things differently than dragons … they're much more aggressive and impatient, often rushing to the end goal. Humans aren't like that at all. Well, at least, not usually. We like our foreplay, while dragons act as if every second you spend not thrusting is time wasted. Their mindset is something like: are you hard enough? If so, let's go! If not, I'll lick until you are.

However, that's not to say that dragons can't be flirtatious or even seductive in bed. But that's something that must be learned. My first dragoness was a quick study ...

I worked my way up to stroking his cheek with all four fingers. I told him that we were going to start with something called "foreplay", and it's a thing that humans do before sex. I told him that he was a beautiful young drake, and that I welcomed him into my bed. The Scalehawk seemed to relax in my hands. He gave a tentative lick of my wrist. I chuckled, moving my hands to his long, conical ears. He let out a pleasured hum as I stroked and massaged.

I've learned all the best spots to rub a dragon over the years. For starters, avoid the horns and the dactyls of the wings. The top of the snout, the pinnae of the ears, and the base of the chin are good spots for friendly rubs, as are their wing shoulders. For more sensual pleasure, there's the rump, and the base of the tail – especially the underside, near the anus. And finally, there's a spot on the neck, just under the jaw, where the skin is loose and stretchy, and … well, let's just say that when dragons mate, they bite that spot for a reason.

My gentle rubbing worked its magic, and the Scalehawk gradually relaxed in my hands. Feeling more comfortable, he took a tentative step forward. Then another. His nostrils flared again. His green, slit-pupil eyes continued to stare between my legs. I opened them wider, and he accepted the invitation. The Scalehawk buried his nose in my crotch, rubbing his snout into my body hair with an innocent curiosity. He breathed in my scent like it was the most interesting thing in the world. After a few long whiffs, he let the air out his lungs with a growl. Not the angry kind of I'm-gonna-eat-your-face growl, but a mellow, rumbling growl. A growl of desire. Most folk don't know there's a difference. He nudged my sac with his snout, getting a feel for their weight and give. His tongue flicked out a few times – quick, tentative licks. Just to test the waters, so to speak. He then looked up at me, to see if I objected. I did not, and this seemed to please the young drake. I continued to stroke his ears and whisper encouragement, content to let him explore on his own.

I've done this enough times now to know it's just better to let a dragon go at their own pace at first. Only after you've earned their trust can you start making moves without startling them. It's funny … I wouldn't consider dragons to be skittish creatures. I've seen them hunt, I've seen them kill, I've seen them torch farms and settlements. Dragons are fearsome apex predators, and they know it. But when they walk into my "den", that immediately puts them on the defensive. And while most creatures would turn passive when out of their comfort zone, it's the opposite for dragons. They actually feel more comfortable making the moves. They'll cling to whatever sense of control they have, because it reassures them.

This also means that, if a dragon ever acts lax and indifferent toward your actions, that means it's comfortable being around you. It seems backwards, but the more a dragon ignores you, the more they care about you. My first dragoness would even let me prop my feet up on her flank, or use her as a pillow! I considered it an honor: few humans have ever reached that level of trust.

The Scalehawk's tongue slipped out from between his scaly lips, working its way up to longer, more confident licks. His narrow, forked tongue felt hot and slimy on my skin. His eyes glanced up to me periodically, checking to make sure I approved. I did. The trick is to keep eye contact, but not for too long. Smile, but don't show teeth. Relax your muscles, don't make sudden movements. Act like a dragon in their comfort zone: relaxed and calm, almost to the point of indifference.

The Scalehawk seemed emboldened by my behavioral cues. Slowly, his focus shifted from me to my body: the taste of my skin, my human musk, and the salt of my sweat. So many new smells and tastes for this little dragon … I could see his excitement start to come out. His long, scaly tail relaxed and began swishing on my rug. He relaxed his leathery wings, letting them spread over his shoulders like a cloak. And when he sat down on his haunches, I noticed the pink tip of his dragonhood poking out of his sheath, a thin layer of slime catching the light of my oil lamp. Beneath this dragon's pride, a pair of heavy, scaly balls rested on my rug. Like all dragons, they were huge. I've always thought it odd that they carried them like mammals do, in a pouch instead of inside their bodies. Perhaps, they were so big that there was simply no room for them anywhere else!

The dragon's tongue worked the underside of my sac: lifting it, letting my testicles fall, wrapping around my pouch and gently constricting. He seemed so curious that I grow hair down there. The Scalehawk gave me a quick little nibble, causing me to jump in surprise. However, I did not admonish him: he'd probably take it too harshly and stop altogether.

It took me a long time to be comfortable with letting dragons use their mouths down there. And even after I did, I still got my share of nips. But they were never done with cruel intention, and I grew to trust in that. It helps that drakes tend to be more careful than dragonesses: they know first-hand how sensitive those parts are.

The Golden Scalehawk's snout moved higher, tongue flicking and lapping my soft member. I was in no rush, but the warmth and pulling sensations of his tongue gliding on my skin gradually caused my body to react. The dragon pushed deeper between my legs as my shaft grew stiff. His swishing tail smacked against my cabinet, causing the heirlooms on top to rattle. Breathing in more of my scent like it was some intoxicating drug, his demeanor became more and more bold. He worked his heated tongue up the length of my shaft with an eager growl. The Scalehawk then wrapped his long, forked tongue around my girth and squeezed. His thick saliva oozed down my stiffening shaft.

When my tip slipped out of my foreskin, the dragon paused to examine it. Chuckling, I stroked myself a few times to show him how it worked – see, not so different from a dragon's sheath. The Scalehawk watched my hand with great curiosity, head cocking to the side. I don't think it ever occurred to him that a human could pleasure themselves with their hands. I offered my member back to him, a mere inch away from his snout. He gladly accepted, working the head of my shaft with long, forceful licks, curling his length around my glans and slowly squeezing. I sighed in pleasure. Drakes tended to be better than dragonesses when it came to oral sex. They knew what felt good, as they often practiced on themselves when bored or lonely.

I felt a flick of something hot on my leg, and peeked over the edge of the bed. The Scalehawk was really getting into this: his dragonhood stood firm out of his sheath, and a twitch of his cock had sent a droplet of hot pre-cum onto my shin. The dragon's tapered shaft was twice my own length, with a large, diamond-shaped tip. And as big as he was currently, this dragon was still a juvenile! I've always wondered why dragons were so well endowed … I think their thick tails make it difficult to get their hips close together, so the males are built for reach. That's also probably why the females enjoy it when I … well, I'll think about that another time!

I appreciated how gentle this young drake was being with me. Other dragons might have already hurt me by now! But this little guy seemed to err on the side of caution, which I appreciated greatly. He still seemed a bit hesitant, so I bent down and took hold of the dragon's forelegs. He paused and his ears flicked back, suddenly uncertain. I lifted his legs and placed his clawed paws in my lap: the additional skin-to-scale touch reinforced trust. After some gentle coaxing, the dragon gripped my thighs greedily with his long, black talons and resumed working on my shaft with eagerness. He delivered forceful, lingering licks down my entire length, along with the occasional gentle nibble. I held my cock to steady for him and continued to encourage him with gentle pats with my other hand. He twirled his tongue around my head and squeezed again, savoring my growing firmness with another growl.

As the Scalehawk indulged himself, I wondered what his next move would be: I've had some dragons turn and lift tail as soon as I was erect, while others would wait until I signaled I was ready. And still others would insist on mating me with their maw, first.

This particular drake seemed to enjoy his oral exploration quite a bit … and hey, I did, too. So I slipped a finger along his scaly lips. Now that he was comfortable with my touch, he didn't object when I gently forced his jaws open. I guided his maw forward, his hot breath billowing on my saliva-coated cock. I rested my tip just inside his mouth, between his curved canines. The dragon understood, closing its steamy mouth around the first inch of my cock with an eager growl.

This was a major trust test on my part, and he passed. The dragon slurped loud, drawing more saliva into his mouth. He began to work me eagerly, using tongue and jaws to knead and squeeze. Rough, but not too rough. Constant, rhythmic pressure. And so very warm! It didn't take long for him to lower his head, letting the full length of my shaft slide down his maw. I swore out loud from the sudden pleasure, and he briefly paused, ears swiveling upward. I stroked him on the cheek to reassure him, and he resumed his fun.

Every dragon I've been with has enjoyed putting their maw between my legs. They do it so casually that you'd think it was the dragon way to say hello! And it's not just me ... once, a farmer told me he found one attempting to suck off his prized ox in the middle of the night. Maybe they enjoy the smell, or the taste … or maybe there's a social or behavioral reason they do it. I'm not sure. But as I watched this dragon's cock throb in the dim lamplight, oozing more precum down his shaft, it was easy to tell he was delighted to go down on me.

The Scalehawk settled into a steady rhythm of kneading and tugging. His hot tongue danced along the underside of my shaft, occasionally slipping down to caress my balls. Hot saliva drooled down my cock, dripping onto my bedsheets. His ears flicked back, his eyes closed, and he let out a coo of contentment as he worked the stiff shaft between his jaws. He humped the air every so often, causing his throbbing dragon cock to jiggle in the warm evening air. The young Scalehawk was very good at servicing, considering his age. He avoided grazing me with his teeth, used his tongue well, and knew how to create suction in the back of his throat. But still, there's a lot he could learn from a human...

Hm, maybe that's another reason why the dragons come to me. Maybe it's not just a novelty of lying with a human. No, the human knows things. And he'll teach you.

I took the drake's head in my hands, just behind the ears. I'm careful to stay away from his horns – I learned the hard way that one should never grab a dragon's horns: they see it as a humiliating, controlling act. Still got the scars from the bite on my arm. Carefully, I cradled his scaly head behind the ears and gently lifted. Thinking I wanted to move on, the Scalehawk pulled off of me, letting my cock bounce in the lamplight. But that was too far. I slipped my dripping cock back between his heated jaws and taught him the back-and-forth movement of the head bob. The Scalehawk was unsure at first, and for a while remained still while I awkwardly pumped his head up and down. I had to exaggerate some moans of pleasure to indicate to him how good it felt. It took time, but he got the hang of it eventually. I was delighted when he dove down all the way to my base by himself for the very first time. He tightened his tongue around me as he pulled back. He looked up at me for approval, which I gave in the form of encouraging words and pats. He still seemed unsure, so the next time when he took me to the base, I flexed hard, causing my cock to throb in his mouth. The drake grunted in delight: that, he understood.

Within just a few minutes, I had the dragon bobbing his head at a steady pace. He took to it faster than most, enjoying the sensation of my cock sliding deep into his maw. He twisted his head every so often to try different angles, and experimented with the grip he had with his tongue and jaws. Content for now, I let the young drake go at his own pace and basked in the pleasure. I felt a welling of pre-cum release onto his tongue, and he let out a yelp of mild surprise, pausing to savor the substance, then working me hard to draw out more. If that's what this new technique rewarded him with, he needed no further encouragement.

Human or dragon, blowjobs are so much better when they're eager. The Golden Scalehawk worked me with surprising diligence, filling my bedroom with slurping, sucking noises. His bouncing horns threatened to poke me in the chin if I leaned forward. I kicked my legs out and leaned back as that scaled snout worked me. He let out an eager growl as more pre-cum splashed on his tongue. Damn, he was learning fast. Each bob of his head sent the tip of his snout tapping my stomach. Pap, pap, pap ... He always went down as far as he could go, forcing my cock into the back of his maw. He'd come off me every minute or so to inspect the tip of my cock for more pre-cum, lick up everything he could find, then go back down on me.

I was so tempted to grab his head and thrust into his mouth, but I exercised restraint and let the drake do as he pleased for now. Besides, he seemed to enjoy being in control, making me react. His eyes were watching me, waiting for my reactions. It was sorta cute. This was the side of dragons that most folk never see… they only view dragons as terrifying, fire-breathing beasts. And they certainly can be that, sometimes. But here was a young drake that was affectionately sucking me off with more enthusiasm than the tavern wench. The almost innocent joy in his slit-pupil eyes was plain to see.

I told the young Scalehawk that I was going to cum soon, and repeated the phrase several times. I didn't expect him to understand, but figured that if was going to be a repeat customer, he might as well start learning a few human words. The little drake seemed to catch on regardless, becoming almost impatient in his efforts to get me off. Perhaps he was watching me closer than I realized. Or maybe he listened to my breathing. Or my moaning. Dragons are surprisingly observant creatures.

I could feel the pressure building deep in my groin, and I tried to let it build. My fingers gripped the bedsheets. I swore again. The tingling pressure bloomed, my cock grew almost painfully stiff. The Scalehawk could tell I was nearing my end: his tail swished excitedly along the floor as he worked me to orgasm. I couldn't take it anymore and let loose, erupting a gush of hot cum into the back of his maw. I grabbed onto his head on pure reflex and held him still, too sensitive to take more of his snout bobbing. But the Scalehawk continued to work me with his jaws, kneading and squeezing my throbbing cock between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. The stimulation was almost too much: I moaned as my body jerked and spasmed. It was all I could do to hold onto that dragon's head as he drained me. Working eagerly, the scaly beast gulped down the fruits of his labor. He seemed to love the taste, given the growls welling in his throat. His hind legs shifted, and I felt his hot cock brush up against my calf as he started to hump the air. His pre-coated penis throbbed as he finished me off.

After a good five spurts, I was finally able to let go of his head. I figured the poor guy probably felt trapped, but even after I pulled away he didn't come off me. He continued to suckle me even as my swollen cock shrunk down and grew soft. Gasping for air, I looked down at the little fella in the dim lamp light as he buried his muzzle deep between my legs. His eyes were closed, his ears folded back as he suckled wantonly for more. This was typical in my experience: dragons are messy finishers, so whatever a human could muster was never enough by comparison. I whispered words of praise to him and stroked his snout. It took a few minutes for him to accept that there'd be no more cum and pull off me. The drake wasted no time in cleaning my shaft and balls. This, too, I obliged. We would move on when he was ready.

Minutes later, he pushed himself up, his sharp claws digging into my thighs as he put weight on them. His crowned head rose to my level. His frothy, saliva-streaked muzzle was inches from my face. He looked at me, emerald eyes pleading unspoken desires. His pulsing red shaft swayed and bounced between his legs, each throb sending dribbles of pre-cum oozing down its impressive length. He didn't seem to know what to do. The young drake was probably confused that I hadn't presented myself for mounting already. Or perhaps he hoped I'd go down on him as another dragon would do. Maybe I would eventually … but I figured to treat him to something uniquely human, first. After all, that's the very reason why he came to me.

I reached out, grabbed hold of his dragonhood, and squeezed. The Scalehawk flinched, eyes slamming closed as a growl escaped its lips. He bucked violently, sending a splash of hot pre-cum into the air. I paused until he calmed down, then I began working him slowly. His stiff shaft was hot to the touch, and with every throb the pointed tip would momentarily swell. The dragon's hind legs stamped my rug impatiently, his hips bucking wildly against my hand. I reached up and held him by the neck, whispering calming words. Calm down, my scaly friend … be still, let me do the work.

I'm amused by just how much dragons love the dexterity of human fingers. I suppose it makes sense: they can do so many things, from gentle touches to aggressive rubs, and even penetration. Some of the more adventurous dragons have tried to reciprocate my actions with their scaly paws, before. They can curl their toes around my shaft, pull, and squeeze, but it's just not the same. They lack the fine motor control and stamina we have. And though a dragon would never, ever admit it … I'm sure that makes them jealous. So naturally, I make sure to treat dragons to a uniquely human experience when they visit. And though something as mundane as a handjob may seem boring to our kind, dragons of all shapes and sizes absolutely love it. Some of my repeat visitors have even demanded my fingers over my manhood!

As I moved my hands up and down the dragon's shaft, I swirled each digit around his sensitive member, touching and rubbing every inch of his red, pulsating anatomy. The Scalehawk loved it, growling and stomping his hind legs and whipping his tail. He continued to leak pre-cum. I spread his copious juices along the furrows and bulges of his ruddy shaft with slow, deliberate, and thorough passes of my fingers. I did it not only to stimulate, but also to clean him. After all, who knows where he had stuck this thing last! His maw? Another dragon's butt? Some unsuspecting sheep? I once saw a particularly randy drake pleasure himself with a half-eaten bovine carcass … while he was scavenging it!

The Scalehawk pressed his yellow forehead against my shoulders and growled once more, humping against my hand with eager impatience. I continued to calm him until he grew used to my touch and settled down. The dragon began to pant into my ear, putting more and more of his weight on me. I brought my second hand down and wet it with his lubrication, then began to work his pointed tip. Swollen and flared like an arrowhead, I knew from experience that it was a drake's most sensitive spot. The Scalehawk jumped once more, leaning against me and humping the air again. So I began the process of calming him down once more. Easy, little drake. We take things slow tonight.

The Golden Scalehawk's hot breath billowed against my ear. He growled in frustration at my slow pace, and his hips settled into a steady rhythm of gentle humps. His stance shifted: he unhooked his claws from my skin, causing me to wince in pain: the drake left dark indentations on my thighs. He placed his forepaws on my shoulders and rose up further, eager to stretch his legs. I don't think it was intentional, but he gave me the perfect opportunity to take him in the mouth. I ran my thumb across his firm cockhead, wiping away excess pre-cum. He looked clean enough. So I grabbed his scaly haunches with one hand and lowered my head.

His hot flesh smeared pre-cum across my cheek before I managed to get it in my mouth. I pushed past the sharp flavor and odd musk as I felt the stiff, tapered head slide past my lips. Above me, the dragon churred long and low at the warm sensation. He bucked his hips, forcing an uncomfortable amount of dragon dick into my mouth. I immediately gagged and was forced to spit it out. Careful, little drake! Relax, let me provide the motion.

I tried again, slowly spreading my lips around his firm, pink dragonhood. I felt his cockhead throb against my tongue, and a gush of hot pre-cum pooled out … hot, savory, and coppery. I kept a firm hold on the base of his pulsing cock – right where it met his scaly sheath – to give him the feeling of full penetration and discourage him from ramming the back of my throat. Gradually, I let more of him in, though I could only take that large, pointed head and another inch or so.

Dragons certainly have an advantage when it comes to oral sex, due to their long tongue and a spacious maw, but I'd like to think that I make up for my physical shortcomings with pure technique. I'd even go as far as to say I'm damn good at it, but I wouldn't know for sure: the only males I've been with have been dragons, and they aren't big on bedroom chatter ... or any chatter, really. Hell, if they ever start talking to me, the first thing I'd ask is why they keep giving me so many potatoes!

I kept a tight seal with my lips and sucked hard, causing the drake to squeal and quiver with delight. I worked the underside of his tip with my tongue as my hands worked his throbbing, veinly length. I squeezed his shaft, feeling the rigid baculum deep inside the spongy flesh. I always thought it was weird that dragons have a bone in their penis. Then again, I think other animals have it too, so I guess humans are the weird ones ...

The Scalehawk snorted hot air into my ear and growled again, which excited me. My tongue swirled all around the dragon's pointed head, exploring every curve and furrow of his strange and unfamiliar mating tool. It's never felt completely right to take another species' phallus in my mouth ... yet over the years I've found myself learning to appreciate the odd shape and preposterous flavor. As my lips glided up and down over the drake's throbbing pink tip, I let out a soft moan.

I slid one hand further down the Scalehawk's belly scutes, searching by touch until I found his tight, scaly sac between his hind legs. Unlike a human's, a drake's testicles were kept close against his body at all times, and the outer skin was much tighter than my own. A drake's smooth, delicate scrotum boasts some of the most supple skin on their entire body. It is fashionable amongst nobles and dukes to own dragonsac purses, and to show them off at their formal gatherings … I always considered the practice to be bizarre and cruel.

The Scalehawk jumped at first when he felt my fingers down there, but he relaxed quickly and let me explore his pride. Typical for a dragon, his scaly scrotum was huge – each testicle was bigger than a lemon. I cradled them and massaged them, hefting their weight, tugging gently on the thick skin, and stroking the leathery, flexible scales. Some drakes don't like being fondled down there, so I had to be careful. But I heard no complaints from the young drake, who snorted and growled with lust.

With my head under a dragon's scaly belly, and his claws holding me down, It's hard not to feel a bit vulnerable, and the back of my mind reminded me what this scaly beast was capable of. Sharp claws, powerful muscles, a strong tail … this Scalehawk could easily draw blood and snap bones. And yet, the thought of pleasuring such a dangerous creature carried a certain exotic excitement with it. It was flattering, in a way, to pleasure this dragon so much that he might lose control.

The Golden Scalehawk squirmed in delight, cooing and growling and groaning constantly. Fortunately, I live in solitude, away from civilization, because the drake was getting loud enough to wake any neighbors I would have had. His diamond-shaped cock head constantly leaked hot precum onto my tongue, which I had to swallow before he filled my mouth. He repeatedly tried to ram my throat, and I had to put constant effort into holding the young drake still as I worked him with my tongue, lips, and hands. His leathery wings fluttered around me, and the chilly air whisked away the sweat I was building up.

I could tell from its ragged breathing that the Scalehawk was already close. I've never known dragons to have good stamina: it's rare to see one last more than ten minutes or so. But, they make up for it with long orgasms and multiple rounds. His humping was getting more desperate, and I could feel his shaft growing ever stiffer, his arrow-headed tip swelling into a mouthful. I think their unique anatomy is designed to act as an expanding plug once they start to ejaculate. I could only imagine how it would make the females feel.

I let out a moan as I felt the massive dragonhood throb in my mouth. The pulsating action was exciting to me – I liked knowing that my partners enjoyed my efforts. The drake's claws dug hard into my shoulders and his cock throbbed again, spreading more pre on my tongue. It wouldn't be long now … the drake was whimpering in ecstasy from his first human-on-dragon mating experience, and I was determined to finish him off.

I kept up the suction and worked him faster, and I felt his balls tighten as his long, sharp claws dig into my shoulder. When the first spurt of hot, slimy dragon cum hit the roof of my mouth, I came off him with a loud pop, knowing he'd try to ram that dangerous tool down my throat. Sorry, drake, I'm not interested in breaking any teeth tonight! Sure enough, the pulsing shaft immediately slid well past my cheek with a powerful thrust. I leaned back, angled his dragonhood down, and struggled to contain the dragon as he began to thrust uncontrollably.

Here is where I truly felt the strength of this young juvenile's already powerful body. I needed both arms to keep his shuddering body steady. The Scalehawk arched his back and thrusted hard against my hands, his swollen cockhead erupting with a stream of hot, milky cum across my chest and neck. Growling deep, his hips jerked and shuddered with wild abandon as he emptied multiple streams of dragonseed on me. Snorting and puffing smoke, the Scalehawk was more than a handful to contain, especially as his claws dug into my shoulders hard enough to draw blood. I ignored the pain, and I squeezed his throbbing cock rhythmically to mimic the reciprocal contractions of a satisfied dragoness. That sensation … I knew well from experience. The drake loved it, if his whimpering and growling was any indication.

After about a minute, his thrusting subsided as the last of his seed dribbled out, and his dragonhood began to shrink – the swollen head staying engorged to the last. I let go of his dangling member and sighed in relief.

My entire chest and belly were covered in hot, milky dragonseed, and I didn't want to know how much of it ended up on my bed sheets! The young drake glanced down at the incredible mess he made on my chest, then looked up at me with head cocked in mild confusion. I think he's waiting because – among dragons – it's considered a privilege to lap up the juices of sex. I had dibs, but instead, I gathered a glop of the stuff with my finger and offered it to him. He gladly obliged, diving in to scoop up his hot cum and gulp it down. After a few more offerings, he got the hint and leaned in to clean my chest. His tongue worked diligently as his dribbling cock retreated halfway into his sheath. That's one good thing about dragons … they may be messy, but they'll always clean up.

When the last bit of my body was licked clean, the Scalehawk balanced on his hind legs and tail and licked my face effusively in a show of gratefulness. This surprised me: not every dragon is this affectionate, and I found it adorable. I whispered words of encouragement to him, petting his snout and letting him know that he was very much welcome.

After our brief moment of bonding, the Scalehawk looked to me with his head cocked to the side. I knew he wasn't finished – I've never seen a dragon be satisfied with one orgasm. But I decided to let him make the next move, as a test. Would he turn and lift tail, or try to mount me?

The drake called out to me with quiet yowls and churrs. Unaware of their meaning, I merely smiled. The dragon cocked his head in confusion. He leaned in closer, his forepaws gripping the bed next to my hips. His muzzle – slick with saliva and semen – came within an inch of my own.

And then he did something I did not expect: he booped me on the mouth with his snout.

I grunted in surprise, but the lemon and lime-colored dragon gave no indication that he did anything wrong. He ducked in again, this time slower, and planted a tentative lick across my lips. And then I understood: he wanted a kiss. A human kiss.

I've come to understand that kissing is something we humans are known for. Nymphs, elves, and dwarves may do it, too … but for whatever reason, many beast races identify the act of kissing as a chiefly human pastime. It makes sense, I suppose: we kiss our family to tell them we love them. We kiss our friends on the cheeks when we're glad to see them. We kiss the signets of nobles to show respect. And we kiss our lovers when we're passionate. I suppose that all seems weird to other races. It's no wonder, then, that many dragons have expressed curiosity in the art of kissing … the problem is they're unsure of how to perform. Some of them have frightened me with sudden attempts to place their toothy maws on mine. I've had my lips bitten more times than I care to remember. Once, I needed five stitches on my lower lip. Had to tell the village doctor that a kobold had swiped at me after a trade gone sour.

Luckily for this Scalehawk, I wasn't going to let my past experiences ruin the present. He continued to nudge my lips, nervous and excited. I took him by the back of the head and pressed his scaly lips against mine. The drake grunted in surprise but did not pull away – instead, he relaxed his muscles and let me lead as I showed him what it meant to kiss like a human. After all … stuff like this is exactly why he came to visit.

The Golden Scalehawk closed his eyes and let out quiet churrs as we explored each other. He proved to be a good little dragon: nibbling on my lips, his sharp teeth pressing down just enough to feel dangerous. And his forked tongue kept trying to force its way into my mouth. I denied him at first – we humans prefer to kiss with our lips, not our tongues – but eventually, I decided to relax and let him have his fun. His long, slimy tongue slithered up against mine, exploring its texture and shape. Thick dragon saliva – ashy and heady – spread onto my tongue. I tasted the lingering flavor of his own dragon seed. Feeling my resistance give, the drake leaned in with a growl, twisting his head and pressing against my mouth. I leaned backward and pushed myself back onto the bed. The drake followed me, climbing over me as I laid down. His wings fell to the sides of the bed, enveloping my body like a shroud.

The dragon's forked tongue explored deeper into my mouth, the twin tips feeling so exotic and strange as they caressed my tongue. When he reached my throat he caused me to gag, and I pushed him away on reflex. That long tongue retreated from my mouth and went back into his own. The drake looked down at me, head cocked in confusion. I put my hands on his scaled flank and pet him reassuringly. Gently, he sat down between my legs. I felt his heavy balls rest against mine, his dragonhood – already stiff once more – felt hot against my stomach.

The dragon leaned in for more. Feeling adventurous, I pushed my tongue past his sharp front teeth. He seemed surprised by this, and nibbled – gently – on my tongue tip. We exchanged tongues for a while. I was amused by how much the drake seemed to enjoy it. His cock throbbed, and a drop of hot pre landed on my stomach. He began to grind his scaly body against my hips. That's one thing you can say about dragons … they never lack in eagerness when it comes to sex!

I took both of our cocks in hand. Mine felt so small compared to his pillar of red, veiny flesh! The heat of his dragonhood felt so inviting as I squeezed our two phalluses together and began to slowly stroke them. Hot dragon pre-cum dripped onto my manhood, and I spread the slimy liquid around liberally until we were both slick with arousal. I masturbated us together, getting myself to full erection while the young Scalehawk sat up on his hind legs and watched my hand stroke both of our penises with a mixture of fascination and lust.

It was times like these that I appreciated more than any other: a simple moment of intimacy between human and dragon. This scaly apex predator had probably brutally killed and feasted on some live animal moments before coming here (I could smell the metallic blood on his breath), yet now he was gentle and affectionate, made a deliberate effort to not harm me, and let me touch his most sensitive, vulnerable body parts. And despite having never met me before, the drake was freely expressing trust in me, which made this experience all the more flattering. This was a special kind of trust that you can never buy or force with a dragon. It can only be earned, from building reputation among their kind. I was honored to be a part of it.

My other hand traveled up the drake's thigh, wrapping around his scaly rump. The young Scalehawk opened his eyes wide, and he licked his lips as he let out an eager growl. His thick, dragon tail seemed to twitch on reflex, and I smiled. The Scalehawk eagerly scooted forward, and my manhood slipped between his scaly balls and under his tail. He then wiggled his hips, grinding his backside against me and giving me a knowing look. It seems that this little guy will have no objections to being on the receiving end.

When it comes to mating, dragons were much more receptive to anal sex than humans. I've never been a big fan, personally, but they … they can't seem to get enough of it. One would think being anally penetrated is a submissive, emasculating action, but with dragons, it's almost as if the opposite is true. Even the most dominant, aggressive drakes readily partake in the act, and are known to demand it quite incessantly. There must be a social aspect to this phenomenon, I think. Their societies are always run by matriarchs, and the alpha females get all the sex they want … so perhaps, somewhere in their weird dragon brains, they consider taking the role of the female to be a position of power and respect. That's just a theory, though. Hell, maybe they just do it because it feels good!

Regardless, anal penetration is a shockingly normal aspect of sex for all dragons. Why, I've even had females attempt to stick their tongues or tails inside of me! Now that was an interesting experience … I'm pretty sure they enjoyed it more than I did.

With one hand, I steadied the drake, while I blindly fumbled for my nightstand with my other. I keep a small vial of oil for these exact occasions. When it comes to dragon-on-dragon sex, their phalluses are extraordinarily leaky by nature, gradually providing enough lubrication for even the driest holes. Humans aren't so lucky, so when I lifted the dragon's haunches up, the young Scalehawk seemed confused. However, when I began to massage the puckered hole underneath his tail, the drake growled with approval. He leaned forward and lifted his thick, scaly tail high, offering me easier access to his backside.

The anus of a dragon was little more than a furrowed, scaly crease underneath their tails, situated perfectly between the crevice between the tailbase, the crotch, and the thighs. It's easy to miss. But when relaxed, the scaly crease opens up to reveal a pink, puckered hole that was little different from a human's. The area was extraordinarily smelly, though not for the obvious reason: a dragon's musk glands were located just inside the crease, and were sensitive to stimulation. I'll admit that I don't care for the heady, pungent odor one bit, but dragons sure do, and it's not uncommon to see them sniffing or licking each other's glands in the wild.

The juvenile Scalehawk shuddered and grunted pleasurably as I rubbed oil around the entrance to his anus. I could feel his muscles clenching and relaxing, almost like they were begging me to poke in. Growling, the Scalehawk pushed his hips back, encouraging the tip of my finger inside, and I felt his strong muscles grip my digit. Immediately, the drake crooned with delight and ruffled his wings. His snug hole seemed to react with every prod, squeezing tight when I pulled out to add more oil, like he didn't want it to leave.

The Scalehawk grew more and more impatient as I lubed him up, wiggling his golden, scaly hips and making all sorts of grunts and growls. He was long past the mood for teasing and foreplay: his dragonhood was starting to lose its firmness. I wiped my hand clean and reassured him with pats to his snout as I grabbed my cock under his tail. He looked down at me, dark eyes reflecting in the dim lamplight: so full of excitement and exuberance. I pet his snout and asked if he was ready. The young drake seemed to understand and let out a playful yowl. I smiled as I felt his thick dragon tail swishing impatiently between my legs, ruffling my bedsheets.

I planted a hand firmly under the base of his tail, to discourage him from any sudden movements. Then, I began to press my cock against his crease with my other hand. I felt the scaly anal crease part against the tip of my dick, revealing his lubed, pink pucker. His anal muscles relaxed, and as I pressed harder, I slipped inside of him with a gentle popping sensation. Immediately, the Scalehawk tried to buck his hips down, but I held his tailbase as best I could, wanting to go slow. Easy, little guy … no need to rush.

Slowly, gently, I eased the dragon down onto my cock, feeling the wonderful, tightening sensation of his anus swallowing my girth. He took me with little hesitation, aided by my lube. It was almost as if he felt no discomfort at all. Or maybe he was simply used to it, knowing the feelings will become more pleasurable soon. Within moments, the dragon had pressed his backside down completely, and my crotch was flush with his scaly rear. The young Scalehawk growled playfully when he felt me bottom out, as if to say "Is that it?" and I frowned. Way to make a human feel inadequate! I wrapped a hand around his dragonhood, to remind the drake that I had other assets. When I gave him a tug, the drake grunted with pleasure, and his anal muscles squeezed the base of my cock tight.

I wanted this moment to last: to get comfortable and savor the experience of being inside this beautiful, willing creature. But the young drake had little patience for such frivolities. He began to rock his haunches back and forth, growling with lust. I moved my hands down to his golden haunches, caressing every bumpy scale under my fingertips as he began to ride me. The bed started to gently squeak. The young drake playfully swayed his thick, muscular tail to and fro, causing my member to shift and press against different spots in his rectum. I held onto his scaly flank and steadied him, maintaining eye contact. I told him he was doing a good job, and to keep going.

As the Scalehawk shifted around, I felt a large bump just inside his snug anus, rubbing against the top of my cock. It felt as big as a hen's egg and just as round. That was a special spot that only male dragons have, and it seemed to be why they enjoyed anal sex so much. Fortunately for smaller drakes, I was long enough to hit that spot, but for the larger ones I have to use my arm. I once pleasured an intimidating Northern Hooknose, and they're bigger than any horse! I'll never forget how he crooned and yowled whenever my fingers massaged that spot. I reduced that fearsome, aggressive beast to a whimpering, panting mess.

This Scalehawk was no different, eagerly angling his haunches to get my cock rubbing against his internal orb on every bounce. Massaging that area increased how much pre-cum a drake produced, and he quickly began to leak. His dragonhood stood out proudly between his hind legs, throbbing and pulsing with need. But if I grabbed it now, I'd only cause him to orgasm sooner, so I focused on letting the young drake have his fun. The bed's squeaks got louder and louder as he began to ride me proper, sending my manhood deep into his warm pucker as it would go.

I held on to the drake's haunches and was content to simply watch him enjoy the moment for a while. I had to admit that the exuberant eagerness of this young drake was growing on me. I've had dragons of all sorts before: aloof grumps, cruel sadists, stubborn blowhards … but this affable Scalehawk was one of the most delightful visitors I've met. If only he could learn to stop digging his claws into my skin … ouch!

The Golden Scalehawk began to pant as he rode me, looking so driven and determined. I couldn't get him to slow down! He shifted his hind legs and flexed those powerful haunch muscles, pounding his rear on top of me. I suppose my smaller, more manageable girth emboldened him. The slapping of scales on skin filled my bedroom, mixing with the chorus of eager growls and grunts. I could tell he was getting close already, judging from the frequency of his dragonhood throbbing. I bet that he'd be up for a third round, and decided to give him a hand.

The Scalehawk yelped in pleasant surprise when he felt me begin to jerk him off, and he looked down to watch the show with delight. Now this was something he'd likely never had before! The curious little drake was fascinated with the way I stroked and massaged his dragonhood. He crooned and growled as he was pleasured from both ends. His proud, pink dragonhood bobbed in my hand, sending tiny droplets of pre-cum onto my chest and bedsheets. His tight anus felt so tight around my girth, and he seemed to love every inch of it with the way he'd rock his hips and wiggle them around. I felt his snug, yellow-scaled ballsack glide and bounce against my stomach, aided by the copious pre that he had been leaking.

His humping grew more erratic, his diamond-shaped cock head began to swell in my hand. With my other hand, I gently slid his large, scaly forepaws off my chest. I've been slashed too many times to be comfortable with a dragon's grip during an orgasm.

The Scalehawk whimpered, shutting his eyes tight as he neared orgasm. I squeezed the base of his dick hard, massaging his swollen head until he was ready to blow. And then, with a sudden grunt, the drake ducked his head between his legs to nurse his own dragonhood as it exploded into his maw.

As streams of warm dragon seed spurted onto the dragon's tongue, his haunches shuddered and I felt his tight anus constrict rhythmically around my cock, almost like the vent of a dragoness. The sensation was exquisite, but I had already came once tonight and was not close to joining him. Instead I focused my attention on the drake's pleasure, massaging his throbbing dragonhood with my hands while whispering gentle, encouraging words. The dragon growled and whimpered as he nursed himself, slurping down his juices with enthusiasm.

The Scalehawk's orgasm lasted roughly a full minute: an enviable trait for a human. I felt his thick, dragon tail erratically twitching between my legs as he pressed his weight into me, driving my cock as deep into his scaled rear as it would go. I winced as I heard my linen sheets rip as he clenched his claws, and was thankful that it wasn't my skin.

As his humping slowed and his dragonhood gradually grew flaccid, the Scalehawk lifted his maw, and his wet, leaking member fell onto my belly with a slap. As his member partially retreated into his soft, scaly sheath, I patted him along his golden scaly flank and jokingly thanked him for keeping my sheets clean. The drake's mottled, yellow scales shimmered in the lamplight as he looked down at me with an open-mouthed, half-lidded expression of pleasure. He playfully wiggled his haunches, confirming for himself that I was still hard inside of him, and let out an eager growl.

Not wanting to lose my steam, I wasted no time in taking advantage of the drake's brief respite. I wrapped one hand under his tail, hiked it up, and started thrusting up into his tight scale-lined hole. The Golden Scalehawk gasped and growled, tightening his anal muscles around me.

Slowly, the young drake curled his body to rest his forelegs and lay on top of me, skillfully repositioning and angling his haunches to keep a comfortable angle for penetration. It's impressive how dragons have the flexibility to do that, especially with their thick tails to contend with. I kept a firm grip on his raised tail, squeezing the fat, muscular base: an erogenous zone for any drake or dragoness. I felt his pink, veiny dragonhood pressed between both of our stomachs, feeling so hot against my skin as he regained his erection. All the semen and pre-cum on my chest quickly spread onto the dragon's belly scutes, getting everywhere and making a mess.

I kissed the dragon's face, moving my lips along his scaled snout. He panted with heavily-gaping jaws, grunts escaping from his throat with every thrust of my hips. His nostrils flared, expelling hot breath along my cheek. His wings fluttered slowly, blustering cool air onto my sweaty skin. I then felt the leathery membrane of his wings rubbing up against my arms and chest as the enveloping limbs relaxed around us.

I thrusted up into the Scalehawk's tight anus with a steady rhythm. By now his dragonhood was fully erect and throbbing once more, spreading even more fluids between our stomachs. The eager little scamp pushed back against me as I continued my ministrations, clearly begging for me to accelerate. The dragon grunted and growled into my ear – a feral, animalistic noise that would be terrifying under entirely different circumstances. I stroked his scaly neck and back as I thrusted up into this beautiful creature, thanking him for letting me be so intimate. The dragon crooned in response, and I wanted to think that he understood me.

I bent my legs for more leverage and fucked this yellow-scaled dragon as hard as I comfortably could. The young drake rumbled in response, groaning as the tendons in his powerful hind legs tightened and flexed. He pushed back to meet my advances, growling as I hit his prostate. His grunts came out in short and sharp, pleasured little noises. He couldn't stop wiggling his haunches and grasping at the air with his wings … dragon could be such a handful! But I was used to it, and kept a firm grasp around his scaly body to steady him. Still holding onto his raised tail, My other hand slipped down between his belly scutes and my stomach, and I managed to wrap my fingers around his pulsing erection. I began to stroke his intimidating, veiny shaft in time with my thrusts. The dragon's pleased growls turned to high-pitched whines as his lean, muscular body started to shudder on top of me. His warm shaft was slick with his own pre, and my fingers glided effortlessly up and down the curious curves of his length.

The Scalehawk's claws grasped and squeezed at my bedsheets, and I could tell it wouldn't be much longer for him. I just hoped that I could join him this time. I felt as if the little scamp would gladly let me fuck him for the entire night, but I wasn't about to test that theory.

I felt the arrow-headed tip of his cock begin to swell up once again, and knew he was close. The dragon's wings flapped wildly as he let out a growl, his large, scaly balls drawing up close to his groin. And then, the drake did something I did not expect: with a lustful growl, he bent his snout down and latched onto my neck, right under the chin. His teeth nipped the skin and sunk down hard enough to feel pain. I gasped, tensing up as he held that bite, snorting hot air onto my neck.

This "love bite" was the ultimate sign of a satisfied dragon: the more horny they are, the more they get into the moment ... the more likely they'll bite the neck. I've seen both the dominant and submissive partner go for the bite, and it's always during orgasm. This bite drives the females crazy in particular, although the males enjoy it as well. And as painful as the love bite was, I felt shamefully aroused to be on the receiving end, knowing its significance. It was, in effect, the highest praise a dragon could give my performance in bed.

I moaned in pain and pleasure as the Golden Scalehawk claimed me with his jaws. His thick, musky seed sprayed onto my chest and his own, and his powerful hind legs flexed as his anus clenched and squeezed my girth. I gripped the dragon's scaly haunches and thrusted up into him with all my strength. The love bite, and the rhythmic pulsing of his anal muscles was enough to push me over the edge. I pumped my hot seed into the dragon's quivering anus, even as he continued to spray dragonseed onto my chest. The drake growled in delight, wiggling his hips to coax out more of my semen as he kept a firm hold on my neck. The way his his anal muscles clenched was exquisite: he seemed to milk my fluids right out of me. And still, the dragon continued to shoot jets of hot dragonseed all over. As I squeezed his throbbing girth, I felt the hot cum shot out with more force than I expected, especially from such a small creature. I think I heard some of it splatter against the headboard.

I seemed to lose track of time as the dragon coaxed out more of my cum with his squeezing, clenching anus. Eventually, I could take no more, and relaxed my body against the bed with a sigh. As the Scalehawk's dragonhood grew limp, he finally let go of my neck, and I moved a hand up to my neck to check for blood. I pulled back my hand and examined it in the dim lamplight.

Dammit. There was a fair bit. It didn't seem serious, though. It's unfortunate that I lacked the touch scales of a dragon! As if in apology, the young drake licked that spot gently as his dragonhood dribbled out more semen onto my chest. He then went to work on cleaning up his mess, not waiting for my permission this time. I didn't care. I was exhausted, bleeding, covered in scratches, and thoroughly satisfied.

As the dragon licked up his semen, I pet him and rubbed his snout, whispering effusive praise into his ears. His wings relaxed, falling around the pair of us in an intimate embrace. I liked this Scalehawk. He was exuberant, adorable, and unexpectedly gentle (for a dragon!). Plenty of dragons have annoyed me with their impatience to get off, showed blatant disregard for my soft, scale-less skin, or have been just plain mean. Usually, by this point, I'd have received a few tail slaps, a claw swipe, or even an angry bite or two. But I couldn't have imagined a more conscientious mate for tonight. I appreciated that, and him. I wouldn't mind if he became a repeat visitor … as long as he minded those teeth and claws!

Slowly, I pulled my flaccid cock out of him, and was hit with a strong waft of dragon musk on my crotch. Ugh, I needed to draw a bath. My sheets were in dire need of being washed and stitched. And now my bedroom now smelled so strongly of musk that I'd have to keep the window open for a few days.

Oh well … still worth it.

I stayed with the Scalehawk for a while, happy to cuddle and enjoy his company. The drake didn't seem to mind: as he lapped up every bit of cum he could find, I felt his tail wrap around one of my legs. Eventually, he switched to licking the sweat off my brow: dragons always seem to enjoy the salt, and his wings fluttered around me as he savored the taste.

I try to make it a rule to not encourage these dragons, but … I felt as if this particular visitor deserved something. To be fair, I hadn't had a lay this satisfying since my first dragoness. And he was a cute little bugger … ah, damn. Gently, I slid his scaly, messy body off of me, and hopped out of bed. The drake yowled in confusion as I got up and left the room.

I tried to be quick as I ran to the kitchen. I grabbed a basin of water for him, a cup for me, and a handful of hen eggs. Scalehawks are nest wreckers – eggs are a regular treat for them. Turning around, I found the drake had followed me. He cocked his head and chirped inquisitively. I held up an egg and the drake licked his lips. I held my hand out, and the dragon gingerly took it from my fingers. He then snapped his jaws shut with a crunch and slurped down the yolk with a delighted churr. I fed him four more, then offered him some water.

As the Scalehawk drank, I gulped down my own water and I reflected on the dangers of what I was doing. One should never feed a wild animal, especially a dragon. They'll hang around, maybe even expect feeding on a regular occurrence! And while that certainly sounded fun for multiple reasons, I knew better. I sighed … it's obvious why I was acting like this: I couldn't help that I missed having an affectionate dragon around. Me and my first dragoness made so many memories during the short two months she stayed under my care. She had returned to me a number of times after that, but I haven't seen her in nearly a year. Who knows where she was now, or if she was even still alive…

I stayed deep in thought for a moment, hardly noticing when the Scalehawk left the room. I found him in the foyer, rummaging through his knapsack of trinkets. The young drake pulled out one of his potatoes, brought it over to me, and dropped it at my feet.

Are you serious!? The Scalehawk wanted to feed me, too!

What do you want me to do with that, you silly dragon? Eat it raw!? The Scalehawk merely looked up at me, with head cocked to the side. I backed up from the potato, giving him a firm no. The inquisitive drake stepped forward, bent his snout down, and gave it a nudge in my direction. The dirty thing rolled until it came to a stop against my toes.

Are you kidding me!? Unfortunately, it would be incredibly rude to deny the dragon's gift now, after everything we've done. Sighing, I bent down and picked up the thing, searching for the least grimy side. I grimaced, then bit down with a sharp crunch, awkwardly holding it in my mouth. This seemed to please the Scalehawk, who chirped with delight. I made a show of wiping my mouth, secretly palmed the potato chunk, and set it on the chair behind me.

Next time, dragon, bring me a cold stein of beer!

THE END

Post story notes:

~ No homo.

~ It's just a human bro giving his dragon bro a bro-job, bro. There's nothing gay about that, bro.

~ What, are you gonna say its gay to kiss a male dragon while fucking his butt and jerking him off? Bro … not cool, bro.

~ Besides, I never wrote that the balls touched, therefore it's not gay.

~ The Warden has a dragon girlfriend. She goes to a different forest. You wouldn't know her.

~ I wrote this story ironically, as a joke.

~ Why does a reptilian creature have balls? The answer, of course, is simple: because balls.

~ This story is 12,500 words of pure, unfiltered dragon fucking. You couldn't get more than a few paragraphs in before I slapped you in the face with impending dragon dick. How did I manage writing that much with no plot, no dialogue, no conflict, and no tension? I have NO FUCKING CLUE and I hate myself for writing so much of it. Just kidding. But not really.

~ I have this thing that I always do after I upload a story, where I compulsively skim it over and over again, inevitably finding tiny things to change. But it's too late. People have already read it. It stresses me out. I HATE doing this. Yet I can't stop.

~ I'm over here like "Fuck, I used the world 'growl' 3 times in 4 sentences." Yet, I'm sure 99% of readers never even notice. They're just happy to read the story, while in my mind it's literally unfappable. An instant boner killer. Reading it causes dicks to deflate like a sad, broken pool toy. Probably makes the same noise, too. Like a gerbil letting out a 20 second fart.

~ That imagery is probably stuck in your head now. I'm not sorry.

~ Just because I wrote this story doesn't give you an excuse to ship me more dragon dildos. Don't even think about it. You know who you are.

~ I DON'T EVEN USE THEM. THEY JUST SIT AROUND, LIKE A SILICONE MONUMENT TO MY SHAME.