Victor's spoils

Story by Nulkurrak on SoFurry

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This is a story for art collab that I've done with Tastywyrm

Description: Asharya follows the clumsy male, believing he can be of use to her while navigating through the lands of the bipeds.

Asharya (c) is my character

Tawyr (c) belongs to Tastywyrm https://www.furaffinity.net/user/tastywyrm/

Artwork done by Firael: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/firael/

***Victor's spoils***

Asharya chased Tawyr through the cold gale of the night, battling the stronger currents high above to keep out of sight. Engrossed in his thoughts, the male had not glanced behind at all, as if afraid the mistakes of yesterday might catch up to him. Even so, the increasingly fatigued wyverness preferred the guarantee of surprise over personal comfort, especially with a male who she knew little more than his name, along with the stinging loneliness that gripped his heart.

Devoid of prior knowledge with this territory, Tawyr flapped his way into the heartland of Asharya's colony, where the oldest and tamest of wyverns hunted and roosted. What would they make of the intruder, Asharya wondered? Should she even interfere if they found his paltry form and placid demeanor an offense, a stain on a territory he made the mistake of setting foot on?

She pondered on that matter while darkness ruled the sky, when the first light crept at the edge of the horizon, and all throughout the conflagration of colors which heralded a day of clear skies and no rain. The exertion blazing within the muscles of her wings, together with the numbness of her heat-addled mind, sapped the wyverness of any trace of guilt she might have felt towards the stranger. It was his fault for depleting his energy to the point of reeling during his landing; his miscalculation that saw his paws land on the sun-kissed cliff overlooking one of the most frequented rivers slithering through the center of the colony.

The lower, opposite bank marked the end of structured life for the wyverns unfit--or unwilling--to shelter another's hatchlings, shed blood for them, or accept entry of whoever needed to lie in their lair for one reason or another. Had she grown on that other side of the river, Tawyr's wings would have become her newest blanket, but the irony of fate had seen to his preservation.

At least for now.

Once on solid ground, Tawyr bumbled to the edge of the cliff, spreading his wings for an uneven glide down into the frigid waters meandering through the valley. The shores steepened evenly, allowing the clumsy male to wade up to his chest. The current also happened to be particularly gentle today, failing to topple him, much to her regret. Not taking any chances, Tawyr shoved his wing talons into the riverbed, hunkering down as much as his unsteady legs allowed, letting the running water lap away the vestiges of his surprisingly potent climax.

Once adequately clean, he leapt out of the river as if stung in the tailhole by one of those toe-sized Narvorian wasps, wings tight at his sides to avoid soaking them with the sprinkling spirals produced by his vigorous shaking of his body and tail. Aware of how suitable his landing spot was to dry out, Asharya backed away into the copse of pines shadowing the lower portion of the cliff. Blinded by the stark sunlight and filled with anxiety stemming from his recent predicament, Tawyr wouldn't search for signs of her presence, even if they slipped down her soggy plates to patter the grass on the way to her hideout. Nevertheless, anger still marred Asharya's snout, a rage that not even her chosen wyvern could hope quell, for only another female could hope to understand this deep betrayal of her body.

Tawyr too, perhaps. He did, after all, paint her nest and himself with his climax, one that the sight and smell of her alone triggered. Revolting, yes, but useful to her ploy, considering how quickly it came about. If suitably tempted with the promise of a bond--and more, if he served her interests well--Tawyr's knowledge of the bipeds and their settlements already eliminated her greatest of challenges!

Tempting as it was to sneak up on him and bite one of those curled toes stretching towards the sky, Asharya announced her presence with her subtlest of growls.

"Yawwr!" The sun soaking male yelped out a cry so thin Asharya's ears rang as he scampered onto his feet, tripping two--no, three!--times until he found his footing. Crouched low in a pouncing stance, Tawyr arched his tail forward, as if that limp snake devoid of spines somehow posed a challenge to her.

"Do you truly wish to wrestle me?" Asharya ensured to use the term referring to ground combat for their kind, for he'd just embarrass himself in the air. "You'll end up under me, forced to lick away every trace of my heat, liquid and hardened, that pesters my underbelly plates."

An uncharacteristically potent shudder of lust rocked her at the sight of the male's darting tongue. Some wyverns, while under duress, did lick their snouts annoyingly often, but it was not the case here. This male somehow preferred the humiliation attributed to bitter defeat if it gave him the chance to taste her, unaware that the females of her clan did that to also coax their malehood out. As to what they did to it...well...it depended on the victor.

"What if the roles switch?" fake bravado bolstered Tawyr's wavering voice, his hesitant poise as convincing as his lightly trembling limbs. "You would end up under me, and..."

Of course he stopped there, for that was as far as his courage went.

"You do not wish me under you, Tawyr," Asharya added a snarl to her words, enough for Tawyr's posture to straighten and give up on this nonsense. "Because once I'm there, my jaws and tail and paws can access all manner of vulnerable areas, orifices, perhaps even your engorged member if the battle heats your blood to that extent."

"I'll take my chances," the puny male released what was supposed to be a roar, but in truth, it sounded more like a desperate shriek.

In the most predictable way, he hurled himself at her, intent on taking advantage of her two-legged posture. Many other males had tried to finish a battle this way; to toss her on her side, step over a wing, then threaten to break it, should she not relent. Tawyr lacked the bulk for this, though, and he also misjudged the push of his wings that augmented his leap. By merely squatting as low as her legs allowed, Tawyr's momentum had him sail right past her, and as he turned to face her, Asharya's tail whipped across his unsteady paws to topple him.

"Again," she hissed, backing away to grant him enough space for his next strategy. This time, she also bowed forward in a striking pose, all to make his deduction of her next move more treacherous. Trickles of fresh, wet arousal wormed their way down her puffy lips and nether plates, dribbling audibly on the grass, the frequency increased by her swinging tail.

Tawyr's focus skipped from it to the barely perceptible droplets, nostrils flaring visibly, his frills torn between expanding in submission and tucking away in fright. To hide his growing erection no doubt, the male assumed the same stance from before, his dignity more valuable to him than a slim chance at victory.

"So boring," Asharya said prior to her pounce. Talons forward, spined arched back, her tail curled inward to guide her direction, the wyverness landed not where Tawyr stood and risk opening herself to a counterattack, but to the side opposite to the cliff's edge to limit his options. Naturally, the inexperienced male panicked, returning to his previous strategy, that of presenting his belly to her than risk being shoved off the cliff. An experienced wyvern had the ability to control their fall, readjust and spread their wings in time to slow their fall or soar back for revenge, but Tawyr understood his limitations.

"I..." a panicked whine rippled in his throat, his jittery eyes fixated on her towering form. "I concede. I wish not fight you."

"Mrrr, even so..." Asharya's throaty rumble visibly unnerved him, given how his wings tucked and his frills shrunk. Only his member retained its full girth, his spade-shaped tip as swollen with need as the ridges underlining it. "It's not over until I deem it so."

Tawyr's haunch swung to shelter his pale, vulnerable belly, but Asharya's paw landed on it first, forcing it back to the side to keep his shame exposed. His other, still free paw clenched with eagerness to latch against her stomach and shove her off him, but it remained still and tame, a testimony to the young wyvern's wide, panic-stricken gaze.

In a flurry of movement as fast as the male could blink, Asharya's wing talons pinned his elbows. Even the minimal pressure caused his jaw to loosen in discomfort, only for it to squeeze back shut when her fangs found purchase around his throat. The deep, dark, ominous growl reverberating through her mingled with his frail, terrified one for a brief moment of scale-tingling trepidation. This was the lesson she wanted to impart upon him, that knowing and understanding defeat differed as much as their opposite genders.

And since her own gender proved to be far more unruly compared to his short bursts of longing, Asharya found it impossible to restrain her moment of perverse excitement.

Employing the same agility as before, the wyverness took advantage of Tawyr's firmly scrunched eyes to whirl around and replace her fangs upon his throat with her soggy vent hovering right above his snout. She kept it there for little more than a few frantic heartbeats, barely enough for a few drops of her honey to pelt his nostrils, yet still sufficient for Tawyr's growl to soften into a mellow whimper. The soft, inviting warmth that swiftly slid over her sweltering lips like a slithery eel shook every scale on Asharya's body. It caused her to surge forward and off her quarry, the deep, mind-reeling pang of bliss as delightful as it was revelatory.

Yet again, she took things too far. And with a stranger, too, one she had followed on a mere whim!

At least the haze entrapping the young male's mind bestowed her with the necessary moment to regain her bearing and slide back on her haunches, so that the coolness of the dew-sprinkled grass calmed the heat sizzling within her flesh.

"You will guide me to the lands of the bipeds. You will share with me the knowledge I need, and only when I ask for it. In return, I'll grant you all the protection I can offer to see you out of my colony's territory with your scales intact, your wings whole, and your member...mrrr...I can offer no promises there if it keeps taunting the wrong wyvern."

Normally, she'd have said that second part when met with either reluctance or unwillingness to cooperate, but Tawyr's tongue still lapped away at the traces of her strong, enrapturing fragrance, snorting so frequently she half believed he was having a fit.

His shaft certainly did, for it bobbed and throbbed something fierce, as if on the verge of spitting its seed.

"I'll...escort you, yes," his dazed mind mixed the order of the events, much to her growly amusement. "But only if you never...do this again."

The way his licks interrupted his words made it impossible for her to pledge that, for no female enduring the trials of her first heat could resist the impulse of toying with such impressionable specimen.

***The End ***

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