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*This is an illustrated novella that Nulkurrak has written for Crytrauv: *https://www.furaffinity.net/user/crytrauv/

Description: This 6 chapter novella is the tale of Crytrauv, an arctic fox in search of his mysteriously-vanished tribe whose journey takes him through a mythical forest. Where there is magic, there are dragons, and the one who first finds him charges an extravagant toll to safely escort him through it.

But Crytrauv has his own sly plans, one which includes charming one of the dangerous, majestic, elusive beasts.

Rynthara the furred dragoness (c) is my character

Crytrauv the arctic fox (c) belongs to Crytrauv https://www.furaffinity.net/user/crytrauv/

Cover art done by https://www.furaffinity.net/user/silvyr/

***A trek through the Nightwood chapter 5***

Rynthara flopped on the drying mud of the thin shoreline with the elegance of a boulder, her mind bearing the weight of one. Were it not for the surrounding cliffs to don her with their shadow, she would have flown to the privacy of one of her dens, disinterested in the fox' fate. He would handle himself, for he was a survivor, a witty one at that, who had managed to sneak his way past one too many of her barriers meant to keep males at bay, walking on four legs or otherwise.

Soon enough, her claim over the waterfall would fade, and with it, the tranquil silence. Other gawkers would arrive to witness her sagged, faltering self, reduced to a curled, panting ball of distressed huffs, no longer bothered by something as trivial as a damp, muddy coat. As Crytrauv's protector, it fell to her to ward off potential intruders attracted by the thick silence and the distinct absence of scent marks.

She refused to do that; to still serve his interests, now that his devious side emerged in full force. Part of her knew this was a completely irrational response driven by her frazzled state, that she had approved--and even encouraged the fox to fulfill her wishes. If only her head stopped spinning for a second, churning and swimming with all those foreign sensations she tried and failed to make sense of...

Traces of her indulgence still smoldered within her underbelly. They pulsed ominously through her still eager depths and throbbed through her puffed-up, stimulated, receptive folds. She hated the sight of her sex, that wet, flushed pink so obvious against the damp patch of violet fur which always hid it from view. Such a disheveled thing it now became, weeping cloudy, viscous strings of her climax that reeked of loneliness, begging for a male to soothe her inner fire with his seed.

Never again.

Crytrauv's promise, that of helping rinse all trace of their mutual debauchery, was the only thing keeping her from wiping that aggravating filth out of existence. Relieving as it felt to discover that it had the exact effect she came to expect from it on males, the truth now turned the stomach, for courtships always began with one nuzzle, one whiff, one lick...

Worst of all, Crytrauv stood on two legs, arrived from outside the Nightwood and his interest in her knowledge of this mystical land faltered whenever it failed to suit his purpose. How could she even tolerate, let alone start to consider him more than just her charge, to deliver to the edge of the forest within the established timespan?

Rynthara mulled on that matter, repeating what had happened between the two of them in her mind over and over again. In a pang of unfounded curiosity and insurmountable longing, she gave an artic fox--an outsider--complete dominion over her innermost area. She allowed him not only to stroke, caress, and deviously force her first climax out of her, but to lick and quite possibly swallow however much of her essence remained on his unexpectedly skilled paws. Such depravity deserved nothing short of the cruelest of punishments, yet at the time--and even now--the dragoness' instinct wrestled with her sensible side, urging her to keep her caution. Yes, Crytrauv was an advantage, and it was true his act, however manipulative, deepened her understanding of herself, but why? And at what cost later down their path?

Conniving creatures such as him often desired more than just a taste. They had to savor the main meal, as suggested during their second night together when he offered to put his tongue to purpose. She declined him then, but if the same proposal was to be brought again, after how rich and overpowering her first climax felt, brought about solely by his fingers upon her vent...

Rynthara sighed, swallowed back the tension lingering at the back of her throat, and set her head and ears straight. Several minutes had passed, marking both the inevitable presence of other predators soon to arrive and the delay of his crucial promise, that of washing away all traces of what transpired, so that she may never fall prey to the same weakness again.

Instead of joining her, the frail, pitiful creature who had no place in the Nightwood still lingered within the waist-high waters of the Downfall rapids that hid his nefarious intentions, that of somehow finding his way into her. She had allowed other dragons to catch a whiff of her scent while in the throes of her heat, a few licks and nuzzles from the shier, more inexperienced males, but nothing beyond that. Crytrauv somehow worked his way past her innate fears, crossed through the labyrinthine depths of her numerous restraints and earned a prize bigger than her own kin had succeeded in wresting from her.

All because his tongue had found the right words at the right moment, an aptitude she definitely had to be mindful of going forward.

What bothered the pensive dragoness the most was the plainest aspect of his lowly status. No words, no touches, no promises and no amount of gemstones would somehow make him more deserving of her. He should not even be here, deep into the heart of a territory only a dragon could guarantee safe passage through. And yet, clear as day, his white form stood among the rippling water, hands frantically scrubbing one another to erase proof of what transpired here.

His spine did not straighten, however. He remained there, rooted in the spot, his tail as stiff as his perked ears, unusually focused and alert. It wasn't just the natural beauty of the waterfall that he admired, for his hands remained beneath the waves, angled inward towards his groin.

The calm, pleasant heaviness of satisfaction that still engulfed her senses following her first climax immediately vanished, replaced by the pounding urgency to end this debauched act. She knew what he was about to do. She had seen it just the day before, when he rubbed, milked and squeezed his member dry of seed into the very rags he wore, drowned in copious amounts of arousal that he wiped off her at her behest. Her nostrils, flared in curiosity, craved to get a sample of his musk; to test the potency of it, to gauge the differences between her smooth, sweet, elegant fragrance and his undoubtedly rough and irritating one. But if she allowed this to pass, then her control over his wants would diminish, and his frustrating infatuation with her would only grow to infuriating proportions!

"We made an arrangement, that you would join me after you rinse yourself," she said, loud enough for her voice to carry over the eternal growl of the waterfall.

"I'm..." Crytrauv turned around to show his dribbling hands. "Still rinsing. I remember you wanted not a drop of your climax on me, or everywhere else for that matter."

"Is it your hands that you rinse, or your malehood?" She teased, her toes clenching in suppressed excitement at learning more about the mating habits of his kind--or more precisely, the parts where he could rid himself of lust without entering a female, as she had always believed to be the case for dragons.

"Both."

He remained like that, facing her, wrists submerged while his fingers worked on either cleaning or stimulating his malehood. Rynthara's muscles stiffened with instinctive alertness, her splayed hind paws gathering under her belly, the dampness covering her sex all but forgotten when presented with such awe-stirring sights.

"You're intrigued," the fox flashed her a brazen smile, insisting between his legs. "I did not take you for the type, given your predisposition to deny and even loathe such impulses."

"Hrrrh," the dragoness met his ease with barred fangs.

"Appalled, then?"

Her lips eased over the menacing display that now failed to unnerve the fox, much to Rynthara's growing consternation. Fear was a good, primal motivator, and while she preferred to employ other, subtler methods, dragons often relied on their reputation among each other to distribute their tasks of safeguarding intruders. If others discovered that Crytrauv could talk to her like an equal...

Crytrauv's hands slowly eased out of the water, his fingers wiggling playfully. "See? No unbecoming act happened. You'd know of the effects of cold water, were you a male."

"The same water that might have carried the proof of your misdeed away?" she pushed to reveal more of his moment of self-indulgence from last night, the picture of his pleasure-stricken face as clear in her mind as the water before her.

"Perhaps it did," the fox shrugged, beginning to wade his way towards her. With every step up the rising lakebed, his waist gradually revealed itself, slowly betraying his boring, flaccid sheath that showed no hint of tension. "Would there be a way for you to know?"

Absolutely, but why reveal it to him now when she could wait for a far more suitable moment?

"Do you still want my help with your..." he rotated a finger suggestively, reminding Rynthara of what the cool dampness of the soggy bank hid. "Considering I'm all fresh and clean, unlike your lounging self?"

Tempting as it was to dismiss his aid with this most menial task, Rynthara found it hard to resist the allure of what Crytrauv provided. Soon after she escorted him to the forest's edge, she'd regain her independence, but how long would it be until another courageous biped, fox or otherwise, ventured into the Nightwood? Would she even meet the likes of him again?

"Certainly," she lifted herself, cringing at how the particles of wet dirt mixed with the veil of stale arousal marring her cherished coat. "Unlike you, I respect my promises."

Her words cut short when Crytrauv met her with deliberate bewilderment, making her annoyingly aware that she gave her secret away far too soon. He did not inquire as to what that mysterious promise he failed to deliver was, however, either preferring to let it slide or too much of a coward to confront the inevitability of his mating instinct.

"You smelled it. Tasted it," she said, passing by him with all the nonchalance she could employ despite the noticeable wetness coating and leaking past her sensitive nether lips. In truth, she struggled to keep her ears straight, her tail tip still, and her wings from buffeting the fox face first into the water. "How was it?"

"From the lowly perspective of a fox starved of such exotic aromas? Or do you prefer I try to approach this from the view of a dragon?"

His yelp at being smacked over the back of his head by her tail amused her far less than the plunge he took into the water. Not quite what she expected from one who always bragged about his permanent stance of alertness!

"There," she said to his thoroughly soaked form. "Now I can be sure you've washed properly."

Crytrauv did not speak nor scowl at her while spitting out water. He simply tidied his lengthier nape fur and milked the water from the limp, hanging fur on his arms before pointing to her hindquarters suggestively.

"I'd ask you to just dunk beneath the waves and take care of it yourself, but given its thicker consistency, it might require a more persistent rub."

"So long as you stick to the required agreement," the dragoness followed his lead, bending her legs and arching her back just enough for her belly and sex to kiss the turbid water that their frolic had stirred.

"Have I not done so before?" The fox silenced her by sliding a hand over her sex, cupping it gently between his fingers, his warmth barely perceptible amidst the surrounding cold. "Ever since our second day, I've done everything you asked, regardless of my different opinion on your choices at times."

"Mmmmm," Rynthara hummed, more in subdued pleasure than in thought. Try as she might to search for a shrewd retort, the dragoness allowed herself drawn into the same mire of perverted pleasure, her body too heavy, her paws too stubborn to do anything but sink into its barely explored depths.

On his part, Crytrauv was as attentive and gentle as before, if not more so. Whereas he tried to stir her into a frenzy of passion before, his fingertips now glided along the edges of her sex slowly, sensuously. He wasn't just washing her, but caressing and fondling the innermost sanctum of her body, bestowing unexpected respect upon it. Though numbed by the frigid water, his touch still sparked a few errant embers across her lips. The pads working their way between her taut folds reminded her of how stimulating their rougher texture felt when gracing her softer, more receptive insides, and although he kept his motions sluggish and focused on the task at hand, Rynthara couldn't help but clench her jaws.

For if she kept them relaxed, her whimper of pleasure would have definitely enlarged the fox' smug, already present grin.

"You're trying very hard not to enjoy this," he observed while shifting his attention to the mud-caked portions of her fur, scrubbing her a little harder to make sure none of the dirt persisted. "A dragon you might be, but I've been with enough females--many of whom were even stubborner than you--who had great difficulties following the cues and needs of their body. Careful you don't keep at it for too long. Life's finite, as is the patience of males. Reject them for too long, and your nest might forever remain empty."

Rynthara curled her tail until the tips of her feathery fan flowed over his brow to refresh his memory. "Next time, it will visit the back of your head."

"And make my hand slip and scratch you in the process. Uncomfortable for you, positively alarming for me."

"Hrmf, at least you're aware that it would be your fault," she turned to watch the waterfall, preferring its consistent flow over Crytrauv's ever-shifting and puzzling expression. Dragons were easier to discern; they awarded threats the gravitas they deserved unlike the arctic fox who seemed to make a game out of everything, ever smiling, never sulking. In truth, she found this characteristic of his to be the most charming, and by looking away from him, she greatly increased her chances of keeping this secret safe.

"As much as I am aware..." his palm embraced the lower half of her genital slit, remaining glued to her bare, pulsing flesh for a few moments to get her accustomed to it. Once her tremors began to subside, the rough, almost grainy surface of his canine pads began to gently rock back and forth to rub off every trace of hardened arousal from her entrance.

"That I can bring you to another climax by maintaining this overly simplistic motion. Your temper may be impossible to fully predict, but there is consistency to be found in the moods of the flesh."

He had it right. Against all sensible reason that pointed otherwise, Rynthara's wings unfurled for extra balance, her hindquarters practically bucking into his hand to instinctively demand far more than what she wished of him.

The suddenness of her motions disturbed Crytrauv's rhythm, granting her the necessary respite to straighten her body and blink away the fog of arousal slipping over her senses.

"That should be enough," she said, weaving away from his still insistent hand that attempted to subdue her once again to his vile whims. "Unless you beg to differ."

"No, you're right," Crytrauv said, washing his hands at a brisk pace, as if something foul coated them. "We both got carried away the first time, and there are more favorable places to enjoy the subtleties of my caress."

"Such as?" Rynthara pointed her snout at the shore to urge him to take the lead, and when he hesitated, she reached with a forepaw beneath the waves, her violet pads meeting his surprisingly engorged member.

"Awh!" Crytrauv recoiled, stumbling back, almost flopping into the water. "That was...it was so..."

"Obvious? Vulgar? Offensive, if I choose to interpret your lustful reaction in that way?"

"Surprising," he chose his favorite word. "And perhaps a little bothersome. It's...quite jarring, to be touched forcefully."

"Hrm, perhaps when we reach that favorable place of yours, I can prove to you that my touch can be as gentle as yours."

Crytrauv's dismissive chuckle, mixed with his side glance, should have bothered her greatly, but instead, she found it eerily engaging, to be approached as something more than a beast that always struck terror into the hearts of bipeds.

"I trust in your pads. Just not in you," he favored her a sly wink as he turned to the shore. For every few of his wading steps, Rynthara had to make but one. This fox truly was a tiny, scrawny thing, especially when his damp coat emphasized the slenderness of his puny form.

"You destroyed my bow, maimed my rags, offered me as bait to the most salacious wolves I've ever met. Whatever gentleness your paws may possess, I prefer to leave as a forever haunting mystery."

"What about my sex?" Rynthara offered him a better, far more tempting alternative by raising her tail, one that halted Crytrauv's steps. He looked at it with wide, awe-stricken eyes, only to avert them once he realized the obviousness of his naivety.

"As if," he resumed his dismissive tone, continuing his stroll. If it wasn't for the water keeping his tail afloat, it would have definitely retreated between his legs. "Something tells me dragons do not stoop so low as to let my kind enter their most secluded den."

His choice of words always entertained Rynthara, even more so when it mixed with a pang of guilt-ridden anxiety.

"Boundaries. It's the first thing we established, wasn't it? I never touch you. I sleep outside your den. Our partnership lasts for two days."

"And how many of our terms did either of us respect?" Rynthara pointed out the obvious, her amused growl dwarfing his light guffaw. "You were my first charge, and while I expected you to adhere to the requirements of our agreement, I also mentioned that every dragon treats their biped companion differently. Some let them ride upon their backs. Others take them into the sky, and I've no doubt a select few chose to sample the delights of your agile fingers, the endearing efforts of your tiny tongue, or even the inconsequential size of your member. All for the sake of curiosity."

Crytrauv opened his muzzle, only to shut it and take in a deep, cleansing breath instead. He had many things on his mind; a plethora of devious plots or innocent novelties he wished to experience with her, but his panic at being dismissed--or worse, punished--for voicing insolence won in the end. Rynthara enjoyed toying with him, testing his limits to see how much he could take, but his moments of silence tugged at her sympathy, begging her to reconsider. She did not grant him the leeway he had paid for; he earned it through surprising displays of empathy for a dragon who made it clear, from the very start, that he was the inferior one of the two.

"Perhaps, if you permit it of course, the best way forward for us is to simply start with a bit of foreplay and see where that takes us."

"Foreplay?" Rynthara followed Crytrauv over to a drier, grassier, sunlit patch to dry, instinctively shaking her paws between every step to remove the bothersome feeling of dampness. "Is that another ridiculous prerequisite your kind employs to needlessly prolong your mating?"

"Sometimes, dragging out the things you enjoy is the best way to..."

A roar put a sudden stop to Crytrauv's words, belonging to one of the numerous great cats inhabiting the Nightwood. Its graver, rougher tonality revealed the species to Rynthara before her eyes even met the culprit. She knew not this individual, marked with blotches and rosettes instead of the more frequently encountered spots, nor did it matter. Their time here came at an end, regardless of their damp, inelegant state.

She responded with a mellower, meeker growl, earning a nod from the retreating feline that undoubtedly returned to bring his mate or family over to the pool of water.

"I assume I don't have to lick the paws or privates of that feline to earn its benevolence."

"Not this time," Rynthara curled her tail around Crytrauv's back to speed up his pace. "But it may very well come to that if we linger for longer than necessary."

"And here I thought the Nightwood is your domain and that dragons hold authority over the rest of its denizens."

"Authority, yes, but not dominion." Rynthara's tail slackened, freeing him of her protective grip as she fixated him with a silvery eye. "If my methods displease you, then you are free to try your tested, effective ones. Those felines do appreciate your thorough grooming methods, so maybe you can indeed lick their paws and privates to earn their benevolence."

Crytrauv's jaws tensed at being outwitted--and with his own words at that! -- but he chose to meet her shrewdness with a smile. "I'll take my chances with you. I feel that we've already made quite the progress!"

Progress? Towards what?

Rynthara shrugged off that errant thought, more preoccupied with the increasing and varying tendrils of scents that her raised snout picked up. As anticipated, the feline up on the cliff was but the first to arrive, with wolves, marsuuls, and even a six-legged basilisk already making their way here. Her wings, although dripping with water, could carry her up on the cliff in but a few seconds, but Crytrauv's spindly legs needed far longer than that. Left with the only obvious choice to safeguard her charge, the dragoness took the longer, tedious route, shifting her accelerated pace into a stride that the arctic fox matched with his elegant, almost effortless dash.

"Not what I had in mind for drying, but it works."

At least for the span of a minute, until the thicker, trickier vegetation slowed them down to a stroll. To keep Crytrauv away from the sight of the other predators--especially those unfamiliar with the pacts of dragons and bipeds--the dragoness avoided the main well-trod paths, winding her way around fronds, skulking under low hanging boughs. With his lower stature, Crytrauv had no qualms with her choice of direction, his white coat maintaining its pristine condition compared to the grime amassing on the silver-colored fur bordering her indigo paw pads.

"If it's that bothersome, I can wipe it for you," Crytrauv finally released his pent-up thought at the way she kept shaking the debris clinging to her damp paws.

"To what end?" She set her paw down, trying her best to subdue that itch to do it again. "More of it will stick to my coat."

"I take it you haven't done this before?"

"I didn't have to," she snarled, the fearsome look upon her wrinkled muzzle short-lived when the pace of her breath dwindled. She only chased after prey in short, intense bursts, not run for miles like some mindless grass eater whenever it spotted a threat. "And I shouldn't. Those creatures dare not lay their gaze on me."

"But you can't guarantee my safety," Crytrauv pointed out, vaulting over a fallen log, followed by Rynthara's effortless leap. "And whatever harm befalls me is mirrored upon your pride."

"Assuming we encounter another dragon to witness your state. I've made sure I am the only one of my kind you deal with, and I'm quite proficient at it."

"At keeping me for yourself, yes," Crytrauv burst into laughter, his eyes radiating genuine captivation with her choice. "I wouldn't readily trade away the one who rubs my paws and sex either. Especially when he had yet to use his tongue."

For that, the dragoness broke into one of her sprints, weaving between the tall trees like a shadow, her focus absolute in choosing the least cluttered trajectory to maintain her speed. The morning breeze whooshed past her ears, angled backward to probe for signs of Crytrauv. Only her steps swished and thumped, with the lighter ones of the fox completely vanished from her ears.

Good enough. Let him employ those fabulous tracking skills of his. She even lessened the difficulty of his task by skidding to a stop in the sun-soaked clearing of a grove, where she fell flat on her belly with her wings outstretched to get her plumes dried first.

How long would it take him, she wondered? Enough for the moisture to evaporate from the smaller violet feathers framing her wing? Quite unlikely, for their density all but assured they would dry last. As they grew in size towards the end of her wing, the enchanting mauve acquired a light blue gradient, with the longest, final rows of flight feathers darkening into a rich indigo striped by silvery dashes across her primaries. Those could make for a most captivating nest padding, if added to Arnalvost's black ones streaked with dashes of resplendent cobalt. If only she remained with him instead of...

"Aaaaah!" Crytrauv stole her peace before she could even restore her breath to its usual pace. "It's seen in poor taste to leave your charge behind."

Rynthara fixated the silvery glare of a single eye on him. "The poor taste of my tailhole is what will bother your tongue, should you speak out of turn."

"An aroma not soon forgotten," Crytrauv chuckled, stepping over her long, striped tail on his way to the fan of feathers tipping it. "You might want to..." his hands grabbed and guided it to a dapple of shimmering sunlight. "There. Guess it helps having a second pair of discerning eyes."

"A rise to rest my head on would provide equal help."

"Should I?" Crytrauv made for her head, not minding her request one bit. Rynthara snarled him away, of course, much to his visible disappointment.

"We will revisit that idea later," he said, resting beside her while facing the sky, head rested against the hands clasped under his head.

"Jhahani never used to toy with me. Proper, rigid, unbending to her whims, she never once let her impulses get ahead of her. Quite ironic, that a steadfast warrior like her believed in omens, of all things."

"Omens?" Rynthara folded her wings so she could present her belly to the sky, as well as the silver-edged ventral plumes. "Superstition? Make believe? The fantasies your kind conjures to better cope with their dry, predictable existence?"

"Just so," Crytrauv surprised her with one of the rare occasions where he agreed with her, if only to get the rest of the story out. "A few days before my Proving, she stormed into my burrow, unusually agitated, a single request leaving her panting muzzle, to postpone my Proving. Her distress concerned me, but not more than her asinine demand, for that was what it became when her hands seized my wrists and her glare all but drowned me in that sea of palpable unease."

"All that because an owl hooted above your burrow? Or a snake slithered into her den in the dead of night?"

Crytrauv quirked an eyebrow at that. "Wherever have you heard all this?"

"You may be my first charge, but not the first of your kind that braved the Nightwood. Other dragons are far more interested in the tales you spin than the jewels you bring in tribute."

"Hmm, so that's why you discarded my payment in some forgotten hole and took me instead in mhhmm mmm mmm," he finished the rest of his nonsense into the depths of her pads. He could have shaken himself free, or push her paw away, but his tongue freed him by tickling the awfully sensitive fur lining her toes, the devious little thing!

"I do not know the reason," Crytrauv returned to his contemplative self, unperturbed by Rynthara's tongue flicks over her pads meant to wipe away that foreign, strangely pleasant sensation. "Nor did I insist on it. I grabbed her, dragged her against me and held her there until her verve returned, but not in the way I wanted."

His lips narrowed, the corners of his muzzle betraying a rare, guilty smirk. "She grabbed hold of me. Of...me..." his gaze directed Rynthara to his plump sheath tipped by a bead of red. "And as she stroked and licked my throat, my jaw, my cheek, she dared my erection not to swell. For the smell of my longing not trickle into her nostrils, for my knot to remain imperceptible, for me not to gasp and whimper as she unequivocally proved me that my future Proving interfered not with my needs as a male. Then, while I was stunned with the vulgarity of her sudden bout of affection, her leg curled around my backside to guide her sex against my tip, pushing against it so insistently she peeled back more than half of my sheath."

Crytrauv's head swerved to the other side, struck by a most curious pang of self-consciousness. Rynthara heard of the difficulties his kind had in expressing themselves, something about privacy or some other nonsense she could never wrap her thoughts around at the time. But now...now that she had been roused to the reality of how deep the pleasure of her sex could pierce, understanding dawned upon her. By simply dwelling on the lewd imagery conjured by Crytrauv, Rynthara's breaths grew heavier, her toes as restless as her swishing tail, the fan of feathers at the tip of her tail blowing cool air against her vent to stem the warmth pulsing to life within it.

Was Crytrauv's gaze lingering on her, he would have undoubtedly made sly remark about the droop of her ears, along with the obvious way in which she shifted a haunch to cover the sight of her quivering sex, titillated by wanton thoughts of being entered, just like Crytrauv entered his soon to be mate.

"And you...you....finished? While embraced by her?" Her tongue tangled twice before loosening that surreally heavy word.

"Khah," the fox chuckled, his deepening smile turning wry with longing. "I came close. I came very close, were it not for my instinct to jolt back. I don't know what shocked me more, the dazzling feel of her sweltering insides, or the chilling realization that she went against the code. That we both did. She mentioned the omen to me, but her sorrowful look drowned everything else. Such is the last picture I have of her, of the female I loved, the one I was supposed to share my body, my heart and my soul with."

The weight of his words deflated the plumpness of his sheath, robbing him of that charming serenity befitting of a happy memory.

"I let her leave. No hug, no words of comfort to help assuage a fear that gripped her so tight she all but relinquished the code that made her into the warrior that she was. We would see each other before my proving. I'd draw from her strength to reinforce my faltering one. But she never came."

The fox' angular muzzle fell in her direction, his amber eyes awash with penetrating guilt.

"I had to turn her down. I had to, for both of our sakes. My respect for her wouldn't allow for her to be soiled by the seed of an Unproven male. But I wish...I wish I took her request to heart, for she had forsaken her very vows to come to me that night. That was love--genuine love--and I was too naïve to see it, to...seize it...while she was within reach."

What did he expect from her? Her?! To...soothe him with calm, whispered words meant to balm his failure? Had she the willpower to do so, Rynthara would have left him in that clearing to wallow in his self-pity, but the warmth of lust already began to seep outward into her belly, her limbs, her tail, hindering her struggle. This small, pathetic creature, to force her to come to terms with her abandonment of Arnalvost...it was perverse! Obscene! Worthy of contempt!

And yet, her lips remained pressed against one another, only the barest hint of tension traversing her snout, for the hollowness in Crytrauv's gaze reflected her gnawing emptiness. Nilra and her other animal acquaintances helped fill it for a time, but it was never enough. Not until Crytrauv invaded the calmness of the forest and made complete disarray of her discipline, groomed over the past few years into a stoic thing of beauty.

Cracks had begun to appear ever since she allowed Crytrauv's hand alight upon the pads of her hind paw; to shelter them within warmest, tenderest caress. They had merely widened since. Her defenses slowly fell prey to the suave shuffle of his fingers combing through her fur, exploring regions previously untouched by any dragon, showering her with purr-inducing, intoxicating sensations feeding into her very instinct. Whatever solitude meant to her, it now felt like a distant memory, discarded in a haze of fresh, rich experiences. No longer would she be that female who rejected her needs; the stiff, frigid creature who languished in fear over irrational episodes of perceived indecency, distressed with her neglected body's needs.

Crytrauv ignited something within her, a dormant need that started as a flickering spark, bolstered to life by her desire to be cherished, to be yearned for, to matter to somebody, even if it happened to be a lowly fox. Jhahani withstood this temptation, too cowardly to push past her barriers, denying herself of all the things Rynthara's head grew light at the mere thought of.

The fox made promise to shower her with a myriad of pleasures, and before they would be separated like in his cautionary tale, Rynthara intended to take advantage.

She started with a simple, timid, almost instinctive gesture, the one that had started it all. Though he had every reason to, Crytrauv skipped any of his witty remarks, welcoming her hind paw with the same attentiveness displayed during their first moment of closeness together.

"What is this?" his question came after his fingers already shifted into motion, kneading at her pads in that rhythmical way of his, the start slow, tantalizing.

"A gesture. Or perhaps an invitation. Make of it what you will." Rynthara's breaths wavered, the effect of his strokes already dispersing through her pads and into the rest of her body, stoking her growing lust at the prospect of how greater a pleasure could they provide, should they aim between her legs instead.

"An invitation, you say?" he scooted closer to her, raising her paw to his eye level while sat in that awkward, cross-legged position only his kind could muster. "If so, then let us trade fingers for something slicker and far subtler."

Rynthara's paw jerked from his grasp as if stung, her nape fur standing on end at the prospect of having her paw, of all things, groomed by his tongue. Crytrauv retained his position, blinking back his bewilderment, the silent, almost surprised scoff of his more expressive than his words could ever be.

"Now this is a puzzling development," he finally said, more for himself than to her as he pushed himself onto his feet. "I had it all mapped out, the start of the foreplay, the continuation of it...pity that we just abandon it, hmm?"

"Do we?" Rynthara's silver eyes fell on the base of her tail in a suggestive enough manner for even the thick-skulled fox to grasp. "It seems to me that we skip past the stage where you try to buy my benevolence, for what joy is there in exploring already trodden paths?"

"Not with my tongue," his arms folded over his slender chest, the fox almost...insistent on demeaning himself for her pleasure. Her toes, clenched in too obvious guilt to enjoy a pleasure the likes of which might never befall her again, strengthened Crytrauv's stance, guiding his steps towards one a second time.

"Lower," Rynthara's paw pushed against his thigh, aiming him at her tail. "This is my last warning before the softness of pads gives way to the sharpness of claws."

"Better that you close your eyes, then," the fox urged, every step towards his destination accompanied by uneasy shudders racing through her spine. "Feel, not see. That is the essence of intimacy. Or at least, what's left of it, seeing as I can't work you in a shuddering frenzy before I even reach my goal."

She wanted him to! More than anything! Yet something held her back, a nagging distress she couldn't shake off, the same that had prevented Arnalvost for basking her paws with the same offer.

To keep her mind off that gnawing feeling of wickedness at taking advantage in too vulgar, even offensive ways, Rynthara tried to follow his cue. Her vision faded beneath her eyelids until all that remained were the rugged huffs of tension-filled impatience, but she could never blot Crytrauv out of sight. One of her peering eyes, halfway veiled, noticed how the lithe fox straddled her tail, shifting onto all four for balance while searching for the proper spot to sit himself down. When he couldn't find it, he chose to lean on his knees, hands placed evenly on the insides of her haunches, the pink of his groin slipped more than halfway out.

His gaze suddenly locked with hers, the uneasy chuckle escaping him carrying the same anxiety burdening her breaths.

"I...If I somehow grow...overcome with your too potent pheromones, I promise not to...over you," he immediately sniffled and scratched his muzzle, ears sinking in unison with his stomach at how he botched his attempt to reassure her.

The dragoness couldn't help but warble in glee at how he tripped into his very words, a rare thing for such articulate character. One of her lower paws tipped towards his hand, encouraging him to reach for familiar territory, the confident clutch on both of her paws as exciting as it was arousing. Crytrauv's fingers immediately set into motion to massage the nerves out of her, squeezing and rubbing her unease-filled pads in that intricate way of his, easing her head back, mellowing her breaths until all that mattered was his gentle touch.

A new, second source of pleasure followed, colder and less coordinated than his hands. Rynthara cracked no eye open to take that in, for Crytrauv's audible sniffs gave it away. Titillating as he intended his nose to be on its meandering way down to her vent, the straight, obvious trajectory made for poor foreplay, less competent than the hands which now settled on the inside of her haunches. It took little to no effort to keep her legs spread, for the short dabs of his tongue convinced Rynthara's body to surrender herself to him on an instinctive level, her sex an inviting blossom ready to be cherished.

When he reached that point of no return, Crytrauv slowed down with his licks, circling her slit with his nose, and only poking his tongue out to wipe off the honey soaking the fur surrounding her gender.

His ploy worked. The mere thought of that tongue advancing upon her exposed lips cut off Rynthara's breaths, her whole frame stiffening, ears flattening along her skull, meek before the impending overwhelm.

Crytrauv, however, refused to fall prey to base needs, intent on fulfilling her request. He rounded her slit with short, careful tongue strokes, slurping away the arousal that leaked from her puffy vent in tiny rivulets. Thin yet slimy, it bore a smooth, tangy, almost herbal fragrance, its taste stirring Crytrauv's blood, making him crave for more of that delicious female nectar.

"That snarl was unexpected," Rynthara's mirthful voice felt weak, slightly diluted by the pressing throbs of Crytrauv's cock. Primal lust filled his senses, made stronger by the long and lonesome periods of travel.

"As is the enthralling effect your smell and taste have on me," Crytrauv sought to quench his thirst by dipping his muzzle into Rynthara's heated folds, taking a deep whiff laden with her scent, then slurping the nectar off her shuddering lips, releasing a feral growl as he pulled back, staring at Rynthara while her juices dribbled down his whiskers.

"I've seen males give in to their feral side after a single slurp, but none was as voracious for my sex as you are. Mrrr...feast upon me, Fox," Rynthara growled back at him, swatting the side of his thigh with her tail, her hindpaw clenching around the forepaw that held it. "Forget my words. Forget yourself. Let primal need guide you."

A dangerous proposition to be sure, yet the only one fit to mark this moment. For a single instance, however short lived, Rynthara craved to surrender her restraint, to let another take control of her body, of her senses, to rob her of her very breath.

That struck a chord with Crytrauv, who towered above her splayed body, her slit at the mercy of his muzzle. Although he tried taking deep breaths to suppress that wild side of him and calm down his racing heart, the aftertaste of her juices lingered upon his tongue, fettering his senses, urging his muzzle lower, lower, right upon those dainty lips.

Crytrauv kissed them again, and again, and again, unwilling to delve into her without honoring this most special and delicate of places. As he reached the top of her rift, Crytrauv made his way down its length once again, this time unable to contain his urge to nibble on them ever so softly. Rynthara loosened a sharp trill from this unexpected turn of events, the pressure exerted upon her already swollen folds so blissful to the dragoness that her toes stretched briefly, only to clamp down upon his hand once again.

"Rrrah! Lick my lust! Lick every line, droplet, and glob!" she growled in feral need, shudders rippling through haunches and sex both.

Crytrauv gave her no moment of respite, lapping away at her folds with broad, sweeping strokes of his tongue. He didn't pierce her yet, intent on slurping every single droplet of arousal off her lower belly and lips before resting his muzzle atop her vent, inhaling her exquisite aroma, then exhaling warm puffs of air upon her vent, making Rynthara giddy with excitement.

She licked her snout in anticipation, swiping away some of the nervousness that began to gather within her. She had envisioned this moment multiple times in another time, with another male, playing it over in her head, wondering how a male's tongue or member would feel inside her, quite a treacherous thought for a dragoness yet untested in the ways of mating.

Better that a fox unlocked this mystery of her body, whose seed would not even stain her fur, let alone quicken inside her.

After taking a deep breath, Crytrauv parted her heated, trembling folds with his long tongue. Broad, thick, and maddeningly mobile, his flexible appendage put an end to Rynthara's purr, replacing it with a thinning growl that grew in intensity the deeper he sank into her nether depths. Her muscles tightened around him, pulling him in with those rhythmical throbs, Rynthara's shuddering moans, swaying hips and clenching toes only serving to emphasize her need.

More of Crytrauv's tongue followed, his thicker half disappearing into the moist, fleshy vent. His girth rolled over Rynthara's lips, shattering her moan into a deepening growl. The guttural sound startled the petite fox, taken aback by how utterly sensitive she truly was.

That did not stop him from taking advantage, however. His tongue swirled inside her, collecting as much of her sweet juices off those smooth, muscular walls as possible before retreating to swallow and rub her lips with the soft surface of his nose to keep her on the precipice of the most potent and delightful sensation she was about to experience.

"Hrrr, I am...I feel like...like I'm on the verge of..." Rynthara stuttered through the panting breaths she took, her heart racing to the highest cliff imaginable, its thunderous thuds all but drowning her consciousness. Crytrauv immediately fled her, the coolness of the breeze easing her frenzied high, letting awareness flood her like a sudden, chilling wave.

"Easy, my darling, easy," Crytrauv replied, an elegant smirk etched upon his face as his hand clutched her hind paw in a tight embrace. The firm touch of hand upon paw added to Rynthara's pleasure, her toes stretching and curling inwards constantly, emphasizing her impatience at getting off from Crytrauv's tongue. "You're giving me quite a scare. Never had a female tense and stiffen the way you did, as if you were ready to implode."

Implode? What did that mean? Her free hind paw caught onto the back of his head, pointing him to where he needed to be.

Without another cryptic remark, Crytrauv pressed his muzzle tight against her slit, squeezing those swollen lips, the size and shape of his muzzle flaring Rynthara's pleasure. Her tail wrapped around one of his hind legs, squeezing at him persistently, just like the muscles of her vent clamped against one another.

His tongue slipped into her once again, brushing against her slit, then delving into her trembling passage, her tunnel all too eager to receive something tight, muscular and flexible within its sensitive confines. Crytrauv kept his tongue rigid while stretching her, getting Rynthara accustomed to his thickness, allowing her to mold around him before twisting his tongue tip this way and that to further spread her apart.

Rather than pulling out of her, Crytrauv remained inside, savoring the rhythmical throbs that heralded her violent eruption. The deeper his tongue slithered, the tighter Rynthara became, and the louder her growls, hisses and moans grew. The spasms rushing through her insides picked up in intensity as well, drenching Crytrauv with fresh waves of arousal. With extra lubrication to ease his passage, he had no trouble pushing most of his tongue inside Rynthara, teasing the shallow, fleshy ridges lining her walls with the swirling tip of his tongue over and over again, her moaning growls music to his ears.

Pushed so close to her orgasm, Rynthara sought to augment her bliss by thrusting her hips against Crytrauv's snout, the upper side of his snout almost disappearing into her delicate depths during a harder and more satisfying shove of her hips. His tongue twisted and turned inside of her, stimulating her past the point of no return while his tongue tip relentlessly tickled one of her tighter and more prominent ridges, one of the most sensitive regions that a broad tongue like his could easily tease.

Rynthara's response was immediate. Her hips shoved hard against his snout, her slit slamming upon his face, forcing his entire muzzle to sink deep inside Rynthara. That triggered the unrelenting clenches of her tightening depths, the flowing motion meant to suckle the seed out of a male's member. And she had such a strong grip! Almost as hard as the pressure her toes exerted upon his hand when they curled inwards from the too demanding pleasure flooding Rynthara's body.

After she fluttered her wings a few times and rolled from side to side, Rynthara's frame fell limp, her eyes scrunched tight as her roar burst out of the depths of her chest. Shudders marred its rich tone, and it quickly faltered into whimpering moans as strength fled from Rynthara's frame in the form of thin, silvery rivulets of savory female climax.

Her shuddering insides splashed them against Crytrauv's muzzle with unrelenting spurts, each richer than the last. He flinched as they splattered all over his face, some of it sneaking its way into his nostrils, filling them with a scent so maddening Crytrauv reeled and swayed. His eyes rolled into the back of his skull, the source of his faltering concentration obvious in the spurts of creamy seed loosening from his fully engorged and erect cock.

Rynthara's vent quaked and clamped tight around his tongue, freezing it in place, stunned by the instinctive need to entrap her male. She had never seen his cock so large, slipped completely out of its confines, the bulbous lobes of his knot lined by visible veins. It pulsed, it jerked and bobbed, unleashing its contents all over the teal grass, its musk faint yet strangely enrapturing.

The dragoness shuttered her eyelids, imagining his spurts happened inside of her, the imagery adding to the mind-reeling sensations washing through her being. Still as Crytrauv's tongue became, its mere presence acted as a beacon for her pleasure, each squeeze pelting more of his muzzle and whiskers with her musky, pent-up essence.

Once her tremors died down and her walls loosened enough around Crytrauv to give him back his tongue, the fox began slurping her excess juices, lapping at her folds with an eagerness that surprised the both of them. It was as if he just savored his first female, so addicted to her nectar that he had to slurp in every drop.

"Rrrrr, the way you lick all that I give..." Rynthara drawled as she exhaled her pent-up sigh. "It shattered my expectations of your kind and the hunger you harbor," she growled playfully, bumping Crytrauv's slick muzzle with the tip of a hind toe.

Crytrauv gave it a brief lick, then retreated a few steps from Rynthara's slit, staggering onto his fours from the intoxicating haze of bliss that weighed upon his mind. Mate her. That was what he wanted the most, as evidenced by his still tensing cock that continued to dribble his juices. To mate the female whose scent and taste filled his mouth and nostrils. His member looked tight enough to fulfill the task, steeled by the lust-flaring droplets of cloudy female ejaculate his swirling tongue carried into his mouth.

"I should...over there..." Crytrauv's rough, husky voice mirrored the frazzled state of his body, both dragon and fox thoroughly exhausted. He only made it a few steps before he crashed, his hands quick to cradle his member, to milk out the last vestiges of his orgasm while Rynthara glowed with unexpected bliss. Her mind never felt lighter, nor her body so sluggish, so fulfilled. As she rolled from side to side, caught in the rapids of raw satisfaction, Rynthara found her head thoroughly empty but for a single, humiliating, almost degrading wish.

That of feeling Crytrauv's thicker, meatier, far more effective shaft spread her down to the very base of it.

***The End of chapter 5***

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