Claiming a wyverness
This is an illustrated story Nulkurrak has written for Mazrogal
Description: This is a sequel to an older story of mine that began here https://www.furaffinity.net/view/32119464/
In this new installment, Mazrogal's interest in Asharya heightens as he gives in to reignited lusts from the previous day as well as newly arisen temptations.
Asharya(c) is my character
Mazrogal(c) belongs to https://www.furaffinity.net/user/mazrogal
Art done by: Firael https://www.furaffinity.net/user/firael/
***Claiming a wyverness***
Whether dragon or wyvern, restraint would fail to come to any male slumbering next to Asharya. Erect and dwelling on a single, pressing thought, Mazrogal thought it best to satisfy his curiosity in the simplest form before instinct got the better of him. Just a little whiff would suffice; a single breath laden with the musk of her species, held deep within his breast. Already in the proper position for it, with his head aimed between her splayed legs, Mazrogal simply had to crane his neck and savor the strong, appetizing flavors of her kind, letting this one inhale stir a roiling inferno of lust throughout his tense and ready body.
This was real. Not just a dream, or a fabrication of his lonesome mind. The sharp fragrance wafting from the wyvern's vent, attractive in its foreign allure, ignited prickles of lust throughout his entire body, reaffirming the correct decision of sleeping a few dozen feet away from one another. It seemed harmless at first, to skulk closer towards her tail. A few steps became several, bringing Mazrogal closer to his goal than he anticipated. At the time, he simply wished to fall asleep while bathed by her aroma and dream a vivid dream, but instead, Mazrogal ended up with his head between her legs and a careful wing draped over his haunches to shield his quickly-growing need.
Facing the dizzying sight of Asharya's moist vent, tormented by soft yet noticeable shudders, filled him with torturous longing, yet still, he refused to back away. To turn from it. To settle for bland, lesser air smelling of gloomy autumn. The softness of her neatly tucked flesh, encased between durable plates, aroused him as much as it filled him with tranquility. Here lied the embodiment of ferocity, growling and shifting ever so softly, her most vulnerable area laid bare before him.
No wonder Mazrogal didn't remember sleeping. The events of yesterday barely retained their coherence, distant and hazy. It was the subtle memory of his seed, maintained by the musky traces that had yet to fade from Asharya's tail plates, that tied him to the present. One shared with a conniving wyverness interested in expanding her limited knowledge on dragons and their courtship habits.
What better way to set things in motion than to lick clean Asharya's trickling want? By the look of the disheveled bedding of grass and twigs and leaves and moss, her sleep had been equally fretful, disturbed by wanton dreams Mazrogal's tongue had birthed into reality. Did she dream of him, Mazrogal wondered? Of having her nether regions pampered by nuzzles, licks, perhaps even the tease of his spade soaking into her?
"Mrrrrrmmmm, good spot you ended in, facing the one spot you're entranced with." Asharya's previously still paws greeted whichever part of him they landed on, forcing the drake's amber eyes to squint against the delightful softness of her feet. "Oh. A dry, boring muzzle. Not even a lick or two? No tasty morsels to soften my disposition either?"
Mazrogal wondered if she could even smell prey through the heavy miasma clogging his nostrils and enrapturing his senses. Perhaps her nostrils were just more insistent than his, taking in deep, uncompromising breaths.
"Mrrrhhhhmmm," Asharya's enthusiasm faltered along with her head that returned to its previous slumbering spot. "So poorly prepared. If you at least shared warmth... but it seems the state of your cock bothers you more than it does me."
Oh, that stung, more so when he planned to start the day on the highest possible note, by sharing with Asharya a treat shrouded in shamefulness by her kind. His muzzle inched closer, nostrils hard at work in drawing in slivers of her creeping aroma, ever at the wind's mercy. Not that her paw draped over his face helped, all so that Asharya could pinpoint his proximity to her vent without cracking a lazy eye open.
A single lick between her toes saw a premature end to her tactile exploration, sending her foot back with a violent jerk.
"My intuition says you'd much rather I clean this slime off you than apologize."
"A shrewd drake. Or a shameless one. Both equally appreciated," Asharya said, angling her body in the direction of his snout just as a visible clamping of her nether muscles forced her lips to drool out an additional string of honey.
Mazrogal stepped over her already eagerly twitching tail, one set of limbs on each side, his focus bearing down on that spot of uncontestable joy. Something about its state of neglect, deprived of a tongue's cleansing caress for far too long, flared up Mazrogal's lusts. It engulfed his mind within clouds of dizzying pheromones, wrapping around his senses like demon's vine, its grip unrelenting, its will indomitable. He could no longer back down even if this was but a test, and neither did he want to. Should he fail Asharya's challenge, he'd do so with a muzzle coated in a layer of a wyvern's stale, enrapturing juices.
"I didn't take you for the hesitant variety," the wyverness chirred seductively, all while the claws of her right paw made their way down the intersected plates of his belly, the rapping sound soon replaced by short gasps and shuddering huffs. Even with his eyelids straining to remain open now that his cock fell prey to Asharya's grasping paw, Mazrogal witnessed the effect his warm puffs had on her vent, awakening visible shudders throughout her lower belly.
"A life-hardened dragon such as you should know better than linger in indecision, especially when there's so much lust trapped in here, eager to burst forth."
Mazrogal's tangled tongue refused to budge, knotted by the sensuous spikes of pleasure administered by her deft toes toying with his shaft. Asharya's paws, fit to grab onto prey and grapple smaller snacks alike, had exceptional maneuverability to them, able to grip, loosen, stroke as effectively as his forepaws. The lack of scales on the bottom of her feet made the sensations coursing through Mazrogal all the better, for all his cock felt was the gentle smoothness of leather-like surface. Given how awkward a wyvern's gait was, it came as no surprise that Asharya's paws fared much better than his, seldom put through long, arduous marches.
By using the tips of her toes, the wyverness took in the hardness of swollen ridges layered neatly along the underside of his shaft. Satisfied with her discovery, her exploratory clutch visited his knot next, feeling the plumpness of lobes swollen with barely contained lust. All she had to do was maintain her current rhythm; to alternate squeezes with strokes, and Mazrogal would have found it impossible to keep his seed from bursting forth.
The wyverness' paw retreated, the plumper region at the base of her toes slickened by soft-smelling precum.
"I'm not going to wrap my tail around your bulge a second time. To let strong-smelling seed impregnate my plates and scales and make me reek of dragon even as the sun crests the sky."
As she spoke, Asharya's haunches parted in invitation, her icy grey eyes narrow, subdued, awash with the fantasy of being entered by a cock as peculiar as his.
Mazrogal answered her request through a gentle kiss along the lips of her sex, nestled between tough, blue-grey plates safeguarding her secret. How soft her flesh felt to the touch, quivering at the subtlest hint of affection! How harsh the scents wafting from her depths still were, a prickly musk laced with a characteristic spicy odor only wyverns possessed. Mazrogal found himself enraptured by it, elevated by the fantasy of being the first male--the only male--to sample such exotic fragrance.
"Don't dwell there too long," one of Asharya's hind paws found purchase on one of his horns while the other slumped on the ground, denoting the wyverness' lack of unenthusiasm at savoring already explored delights. "A single eruption in your maw will suffice, after which I'll be properly slickened to help that peculiar bulge of yours slide into me."
"Suppose it all depends on how exquisite the foreplay is," Mazrogal shared one final, preparatory glance before directing his entire focus where she needed it most.
With his forepaws placed on the inside of her haunches to keep the jerks of her legs subdued, the drake succumbed to the primordial thirst for a female's honey, pressing his snout tip tight against the top of her vent so that his tongue had full access to her entrance.
What a sweetheart, shackled by the unrelenting need the fear of a male wyvern's seed had kept locked within her all along. Aware that a change of pace was necessary given the wyvern's mood, Mazrogal no longer bothered with pleasantries, leaving the remnants of her dream lukewarm upon her plates as he shoved his tongue all the way through.
"Gr--grrawh!" Asharya's jaws snapped at the air, as if seeking to administer her affectionate bite on a male that did everything right in the first try.
He gave her no such chance. Even if his throat would have been within reach, with his cock substituting his tongue, Mazrogal would have weakened her hold through a rapid withdrawal followed by an equally sudden plunge back into her. His tongue delivered the truth of his intentions, piercing her repeatedly instead of lingering there at the mercy of her clenches. This made for a more dynamic approach to this oral treat, rewarding Mazrogal with terse spurts of her hot essence gushing straight into his maw just a few tongue thrusts later.
"Yawwwrhhhh!" The wyverness' legs spread like a blooming flower, letting the heavy spasms traversing her vent transmit earnest gratitude for fulfilling her deepest of fantasies.
Mazrogal needed no thanks. The honey pushed to the surface amidst the restless shudders of her tunnel, a thicker, aromatic blend of tart scents and heavy flavors, was the exact reward he needed. The first tongue-fulls merely whet his appetite. In order to have more, he had to dig deeper for the truly spicy gobs, scratching her deepest reaches with his swirling tongue in the hurry to collect everything that she held. Those last globs of thickened arousal, held within from her previous orgasm just the day before, had a mucous consistency to them; a softness similar to cream, only infinitely richer.
"You are...a most peculiar male," the wyverness' breaths began to settle even if her heart hadn't, evident in the throbs rushing through her nether flesh. It pulsed, it clenched, it quaked, demanding more than just the fleeting delves of a ribbon of flesh. "On the verge of loosing your seed, yet clinging to my sex in rampant devotion other wyverns preserve solely for the snouts of their mates."
"Maybe it's because this region of yours requires it most," he alluded to that oddity of her kind which involved a puzzling revulsion for relishing their partner's vent.
"It received plenty of affection already," one paw latched over the tip of his snout while the other pushed against his chest, both of them seeing him farther away from that well of intoxicating scents. "Leave some for the paws, wet snout."
She didn't really wish for that. Mazrogal felt their hesitation when wrapping around the tip of his snout; he noticed it in their skittishness, barely tolerating the coiling of tongue around a single toe, seeking to drag them into the teeth-filled cavern of his maw.
"Mhhhrrr..." Mazrogal let go of her, nudging her pestering paws away. "I could bite them instead. At least that would draw a more worthy reaction."
"Already filled your appetite, have you?" Asharya crooned, putting her paws to a much more pleasant and affection-filled purpose. Under the caress of those slender toes rustling against the scales lining the side of his neck, Mazrogal leaned back on his haunches, the pulses swimming through his blood-engorged, unattended shaft halfway forgotten.
"Is this the type of male you are? Choosing a childish caress befitting a hatchling over solving more pressing issues?"
His breath seized, the wings on his back unfurling to their fullest, prompted by the dread-filled jolt of ejaculating in the depth of her paw. Asharya knew what she was doing; how close he truly was. That single, tempting paw shifted his spade between her toes, applying just enough pressure to slip its precum-slickened tip through the natural cranny formed by two adjacent toes. When slickened by saliva, his body cared not whether it was her feet or vent. Pleasure was pleasure, and his was just about to burst through whatever final resistance his taut, aching ridges mounted.
"This definitely suits you better. Another inch or two, and..."
She made it close. Too close to his breaking point. Right when Mazrogal was about to snap his panting maw shut and squeeze his eyes shut in final concentration to withstand long enough for her interest to falter, Asharya backed away with a heavy, disappointed sigh.
"Too pungent. Too sticky. That's why it's meant for the inside of a female after all..."
The obvious push in a direction Mazrogal wasn't ready to head for seized the heart in his chest, strangling it in its doubt-filled talons. Hoping to delay this matter long enough to come with a suitable response, Mazrogal craned his neck for a second chance at rekindling Asharya's purr, only to have her evade him at every turn.
"You mistake intent," Asharya pulled her haunches to her chest, wrapping herself in her wings, her once confident glare now diluted by wistfulness. "Your tongue may provide the most intense pleasures I've ever felt, but it leaves no mark. No proof that you shared yourself with me as much as I share myself with you..."
"Is that...not preferable to you?"
"Hrrf," the wyverness let out a sardonic huff, undoubtedly puzzled by his altruistic approach. In her society, males seldom elevated the female to such position without expecting due favor. "Swollen from knot to spade, and still dwelling on my needs."
Mazrogal's wings rustled uneasily at his sides, urged by instinct to quench his own crave yet held back by propriety from taking advantage of a female--any female--young enough not to consider the consequences of a mating. She might not bear his young, but the moment his seed bathed her insides, foreign feelings would overtake her, some more damning than others. What would happen, should other wyverns discover their union? He'd be cast back into solitude, safe from repercussions while her reputation forever haunted her.
Dragon breeder. A stigma that wouldn't easily wash off in these lands.
"Is your fear of whatever you're dwelling on more pressing than emptying whatever that bulge of yours holds deeply into me?" her voice faltered for a moment, an obvious tremor rocking her frame.
"Given the state of your cock, it's disturbingly obvious you've gone far too long without the wet embrace of a female."
"There are ways. Not as fulfilling, yes, but enjoyable in their own way. Like your tail, and paws!" He added as much excitement into his words as he could muster, only for Asharya's gaze to depart from his sunken, insincere head.
A difficult, stomach-clenching thing to admit, yet comforting in the truth it held. Nothing quite compared to a female's vent, let alone make up for the fantasy of slipping himself through the puffed-up, sweltering lips of a wyvern, but it was an acceptable sacrifice to making decisions based on lustful impulse. He had been in that position once, and he had chosen wrong. Putting Asharya through the same turmoil while knowing that most wyverns still resented dragons for the part they played in their mutually unsettling history...
"If I claim you, it'll happen after proving myself in one way or another," he settled for the safest promise he could make at this time, even if his jolting cock disagreed with it.
Asharya's scoff carried a faint, amused touch given the state of his member. "Licking me down there, where not even my tongue dared venture, is proof enough for me."
"What happens when the day comes that you no longer find this habit repulsive?"
"It will never come." Asharya's voice crackled with certainty, the talons of her feet raking away dirt to cope with the anxiety stemming from this unsettling probing into matters a dragon wouldn't understand.
Against his better judgment, Mazrogal pressed forth. Not for himself, but to achieve better understanding of her. "Not even after I drained you dry of everything you held? Why?"
Asharya shrugged a single wing.
"Custom. Stubbornness. Pride. Guilt. There are many words that can describe my reluctance to indulge myself more than necessary, none wrong, none right, yet all true in their own way." A rough, lustful growl rumbled in her throat, spurred forth by his transfixed gaze following her rump. She found the bead of precum hanging on his crimson tip almost far too hard to resist, the impulse of sweeping it away with a quick brush of her tongue far too daunting.
Faring none the better, Mazrogal retreated a few steps from the lounging female to breathe in the fresh air of early dawn instead of her far too arousing odor. Its potency shocked him, as did her wild taste. His heart never pounded so hard, nor did his ridges swell to their limits in quite such fashion. Privy to his predicament, Asharya warbled her alluring call, drawing him in with a twitching tail tip and a wing that waved at him slowly, enticingly.
"Do all wyverns...smell and taste so strong?" Mazrogal inquired, tongue dashing across his nostrils and lips to wipe away the subtle traces of her bottled longing and gain a much-needed insight into how far her condition had progressed.
Asharya flashed her fangs at him, her half-lidded eyes and soft purr indicating that it was meant as a smile rather than a threat. "To your kind, we are an acquired taste. I suppose your females do not carry the bothersome dampness and staler scents of the previous days soaked into their scales, do they?"
Mazrogal wanted to know more about her reasons for not simply finding a body of water to rinse herself into. At the same time, the mystery of her decision made her all the more attractive to him, as did her very specific fragrance. His shaft jolted at the mere thought of tucking back into his meal, slapping softly against the silver plates of his belly, drawing soft, muffled whimpers from the horny drake.
"Are all dragons that excitable around their females? On the verge of breaking loose by simply smelling and looking upon them?" Asharya repurposed his question for her own nefarious ends, using her tail to pry apart her vent from one side and reveal a glimpse of her glistening tunnel, drowned in arousal. "Or is it only you that would rather shoot his seed over the ground while gripped by paws or tongue instead of doing so inside warmer regions?"
"I...explained myself the best I could," Mazrogal shook his head with the greatest of reluctance, his willpower alone holding him together. "Your territory, your rules and customs. No female should bow down to her heat without first ensuring that her partner is a worthy one."
"My kind finds the eager and vulnerable males to be the most earnest and desirable. Those who burst with youthful impatience prior to their first mating are the ones who are worthiest. They withheld their release for the one they cherish the most while avoiding the temptations of spending their first seed inside the older females willing to teach them."
Mazrogal chuckled at the way wyverns perceived such weakness, his limbs and wings inadvertently straightening to make him look taller and more imposing despite the erection bobbing between his legs. "What trials will you have me face in order to prove myself as an adequate companion to you?"
"Trials?" her cool tone left no room for further argument. Now that she pushed herself up, the female no longer seemed like the playful creature from earlier, but a fierce adversary that could challenge Mazrogal at any moment. "Contests? Games? Superfluous, nonsensical displays such as lavish and highly uncomfortable nests? Is that what you'd make of me, a haughty, pampered little bird cared for by her stoic, loving male?"
Being circled by her lithe, stalking form stripped Mazrogal of any chance to provide reasonable explanation. Letting her leave to deal with her frustrations in private seemed like the perfect solution to their plight, but this matter deserved clarification for both of their sake.
"I...simply wished to show you in whatever way possible that I deserve your affection. Loyalty, adaptive capabilities...those aren't games, but highly desirable traits," he mentioned the two foremost traits when it came to a desirable mate, earning Asharya's hiss in response.
"A mateship? Is that what you're after?" The wyverness launched herself at him so suddenly Mazrogal's head spun. He only realized his feet gave in from the jarring sting of wing membranes scraping against the dirt. A single paw fell on his chest, bearing half of Asharya's lighter weight, a paltry challenge compared to his greater bulk and strength.
"Not a mateship. A friendship with select benefits," Mazrogal's wit got the better of him, interrupting an undoubtedly captivating threat. "Otherwise, I'll just make do with thrusting my tongue as deep into you as possible and pretend that it is my shaft that pierces you."
"That simple, hrr?" In a whirl of dizzying colors, Asharya's rump replaced her snarling face, all so that she could squeeze the folds of her sex against the pebbly scales tipping his snout, absorbing his nostrils within the sanctuary of fleshy folds.
"Why settle for your tongue when your snout is just as pleasurable?"
Mazrogal's snorts rushed in quick bursts, the male thoroughly dazed by how forceful, how entrancing the humping motions of her hindquarters were. Every time her sex molded around his snout tip, the sharp embers of adrenaline awoke throughout his entire frame, spawned by the instinctive panic of being robbed of his breath. It took surprising effort to keep his forepaws from grabbing onto her, or restrain his hind legs so that they didn't seek purchase on her neck or throat to fend her off. Whatever point she wished to prove, Mazrogal welcomed it, too absorbed in the eroticism of this act to care about such platitudes.
"I won't tie myself to anyone, Mazrogal, least of all a dragon. I'll allow one exception, all so I can feel the bulge at the base of your shaft entrap us belly to belly. Plenty of time to warble all about mateship while I'm dazed from the warmth of your abundant seed."
Air rushed into Mazrogal's lungs along with a heavy dose of Asharya's pheromones. Even if he wanted to pursue her, a full erection made flight completely miserable. And for what? To forsake his conviction on account of lust? Compromises have been forged over less, but this time...this time, turning back came impossible to Mazrogal. It was her choice. Her will. Why fight her for a custom her species cared little for, if at all?
*
Mazrogal found Asharya perched on a cliff, taking in the small, snake-like paths weaving between the mountainous expanse ahead. Her tall, stalwart form caught the sunset across her dark form, turning the blacks into greys while accentuating the lighter nuance of the plates stretching a third down her tail. The stillness of her tail, the stiffness of her tucked wings, and the transfixed nature of her ever-wandering gaze put him in a somber mood. The tension in her limbs was all too familiar to the wandering dragon, her muscles taut yet frozen with indecision.
"Reconsidered, have you?"
"Breaking through my resolve doesn't come as easy to me. The dragons that raised me--they share many traits with wyverns where obstinacy is concerned."
She did not turn, continuing to ponder whatever crossed through her mind in solitude. "Traders once crossed through these mountains, believing us wyverns to be as amenable to their ways as dragons tend to be. It didn't matter what age they were; the gender, the color of their skin, or the language they employed. Whatever worthwhile possessions they had now adorn the lair of a wyvern somewhere, the toys of their children torn apart by our hatchlings."
Her tail flicked in distress, disturbed by such savagery, yet reluctant to condemn the ways of her kind. "That is what happens to those that aren't us. What would have happened to you, had you arrived several years back. It took entire generations to filter out the feud between our kinds, and just as many to bring about our meeting, all to prevent the past from repeating."
"It all starts with once race, one peace offer at a time..."
"Grrrfff," Asharya huffed sardonically, her straight, towering, ready to soar into the open posture saying it all already.
"Dragons threatened us, so it stands to reason that your greatest enemy is the one you broker peace with first. The others...they hold no sway over us, so it's far better for them to pretend this part of the world doesn't exist."
But it did, and sooner or later, the wyverns would learn that the bipeds no longer huddled in huts, butts muddy, backs crooked while leaning over a small campfire.
All of his life, Mazrogal wished for nothing more than to indulge in every pleasure the world had to offer. His quest had carried him around the known world. He traveled alone or in the company of wandering clans, traders, even warriors at times. It didn't take long for Mazrogal to grow bored with their predictable routes, so instead, he had decided to venture into the wilderness; to get a taste of what it truly meant to meet your former enemy.
He didn't find enmity, however, but restrained curiosity eager to be satisfied far too quick and far too soon.
"They'll chase you away, Mazrogal. And if they don't, I will. You're nothing but novelty to me; a spectacular prey you only hunt once for the prestige of it, unable to nourish you. Do you think such base aspiration requires a grand display of prowess on your part, when it's just a single union with you that I'm after?" Asharya asked without as much as a flick of her tapered tail tip.
Mazrogal halted his approach, surprised that Asharya still held this conviction so close to heart. "It may not, but I've never shared my body with a female while holding the entirety of my feelings at bay. This is not the type of male that I am."
Asharya's spikes flattened somewhat. Or maybe her neck shifted ever so subtly. Less than a week with her was an impossibly short time to unravel all these exciting mysteries.
"A pity. Then we truly have too little in common, as dragon and wyvern should."
"That is precisely what I wish," Mazrogal took another step towards her, filling his courage flare up the stronger her addictive scent became. "To discover that our species share just as many similarities as they have differences. We're more alike than you know... it's why I find it impossible to just mount you like you're just a...just a..."
"A slave? A servant? Any of the meek, subservient types willing to take any male so long as they're paid in comforts?" Asharya said absently, gaze skipping towards the mist starting to creep in from the mountains. "I wish you safe travels, Mazrogal."
"Can't you come with me?" Mazrogal asked, hoping--wishing--that Asharya's curiosity to discover new things would win over whatever doubts she was battling.
"The world changed, even if you wyverns haven't. Perhaps a short journey into my lands will help you better understand why certain choices pose great difficulties to me."
If anything, the offer at least made Asharya turn to face Mazrogal. "All of that, just to convince you to enter me a single time, all for the purpose of indulging a whim?"
"The good things in life take meticulous preparation and are often made memorable by it."
"The words of a human," the wyverness' vitriol was palpable in her words, even if her lips tried to remain draped over her fangs. "Seeped into the mind of a dragon whose determination I admired..."
Good. A reaction, even if not the sort Mazrogal could readily work with. Better that Asharya's focus now dwelled on him and not on her ancestral territory laden with the prejudice of her kind.
"How persistent you are in your goal to strip me of choices," she flashed her fangs at him, as if ferocity could hope to douse her maladroit shuffle. Whenever a wyvern sought those shorter, smaller steps, their center of gravity shifted, requiring them to rely on their wings as an additional set of limbs. Among humans, wing walkers seemed the more endearing term, while the rest...more aptly described the ridiculousness of her skulking.
"Not dwelling for a moment on how indifferent I am to those meager customs I don't seek, understand, nor appreciate."
The swifter Mazrogal evaded her advance, the nimbler Asharya's movements became. What started off as a silly challenge now unnerved Mazrogal more than it should, for the female's fluid, pantherine grace manifested even in this formerly comical stance.
"Quite the agile wyvern you are," Mazrogal spoke in between the dodges of her snapping maw or lashing tail, feeling the thrill of combat flicker to life within him. "Perhaps I should take this threat more RAWH!"
"More what?" The victor's fangs kissed his neck in stinging, breath-stealing embrace that lasted for but a split second, all so that she could continue her elaborate taunting. "I can have you whenever I want, in whichever way I so crave."
Her foreboding words spread perplexing arousal throughout Mazrogal's stunned form. The bite she administered still lingered on his bloodies scales, within the torn skin, its searing pain so profound his eyes began to water in shock at how quick and unexpected it happened. His wings ached. His body trembled with adrenaline, urging him to regain his status and remind her of who fought--and won--the superior number of battles.
But that desire was fickle. Insignificant. A speckle of dust blown away by the winds of more immediate needs. Instead of protecting him, Mazrogal's legs parted to reveal the renewed throbs rushing through his shaft, pulsing rekindled vitality into it. In that moment, all he wanted was for her darkening frame to steal the sun's faltering light; for her trickling want to drip down on his waiting cock, tempting him to forsake the way of dragons and rejoice in the newfound freedom of submitting to a wyvern's initiative.
"Show me," he invited her with a deep purr shaken by nerves. "In whichever way you want. Just like you mentioned."
The wyverness' tail lashed from one side, then to the other. Tension began to flee her talons and wing claws alike, her posture shifting from the more balanced fighting stance to the less certain one held up solely by her muscular legs and thick, powerful tail.
"No female ever mounts the male." Asharya's tongue quickly rushed to the tip of her snout, confirming what they both already knew.
"So...what can you do, other than staring?"
Mazrogal did not wait to find out. Her approaching, purposeful paws gave him a clue. An enjoyable affair, to be certain, yet ill fitted to replace the more meaningful interaction between two joint bodies.
"Intentions are one thing, and actions another. Bold as you claim to be, even wyverns desire a certain closeness; a certainty that their partner is the right one for them. What us dragons call eroticism doesn't extend to mated pairs nor tie strangers together in forced union. All it means to achieve is elevate partners in each other's eyes, to grant them the courage to embrace the unexpected and savor the least anticipated outcome."
"Such as your seed finding root within me?"
Whatever moisture still remained upon Mazrogal's tongue, the bubbling anxiety simmering just under his hide dried off. Recognizing his trepidation, Asharya's demeanor softened, the blue of her eyes becoming more inviting, her spikes less daunting, her purr alluring in its softness.
"As if fate would ever favor such...unfitting union."
He knew it to be true; previous research into this topic left no room for ambiguity. Still, the nagging panic lingered even as Asharya's neck scales rustled against his, the nibble on his throat as close to an affectionate gesture as any.
"Other wyverns tried it. Outcasts, uncaring of what the rest of the colony made of their aberrant behavior. Once one wyvern knows, the entire colony is quick to follow. Little as this detail seems, it stands to prove that the separation of our species is just, necessary, preordained."
Completely disarmed by the warm wetness of her tongue trailing its way up to his jaw, Mazrogal's shaft jolted in response, tempted by their closeness, by her flooding scent. Diluted as it seemed compared to his dive within the source of it, the mixture of musk and pheromones weakened Mazrogal's limbs and resolve both. How could he prove himself to her when she outpaced him at every turn?
"Wyverns take joy as it is presented to them, whereas you..." her head reached under his belly to roll the tip of his tongue over the rock-hard spade of his cock. "Entangle yourself within biped-specific worries, as if purposefully seeking to sour the moment. How about you try my way? To follow what your instinct--that wild and intimate part of you--pushes you to do?"
Just like that, Asharya sprawled in front of him, paws playing with one another while her tail tip slickened itself with her juices, poking and prodding at her opening. Short, ragged huffs slipped through the small crack of her jaws, entering herself just enough to produce soft, wet, irresistible squelches.
"What will it be? My tail, scaled and rough, or your member, ridged to...mrrmm...perfection?"
Instead of waiting for Asharya to rescind her offer for the final time, Mazrogal snuck between the wyvern's legs and placed his forepaws upon her haunches, stripping her of any chance of make another escape.
A low, rumbling growl wormed its way out of Asharya's throat, visible creases taking shape along the length of her snout. "Better be certain this time, otherwise I'll find myself the most vulnerable part of you to punish."
"That would be the part which you just can't let go of," Mazrogal said. It only a took gentle caress, coupled with a few soft squeezes on the base of her wing arms, to get Asharya growling a different tune, the wrinkles of her snout smoothing visibly, replaced by a mask of longing.
"Satisfying, isn't it? What an extra set of limbs can accomplish." To get his point across the way Asharya expected him to, the drake slipped his way down to her haunches, aware of how sensitive the soft scales coating their insides were. By employing the same gentle kneading from before, Mazrogal slowly wound his way down from knee to the base of the haunch, adding just enough strength to his massage to elicit a hum of pleasure from Asharya.
The dragon smirked inwardly as Asharya stretched her legs to the sides, tail slowly unraveling in both acceptance and interest as to what would follow next. Part of him wished his companion would just lie back, close her eyes and let the surprise wash over her, but since Asharya insisted to follow his every move, that left the dragon with no choice but attack Asharya's most vulnerable parts.
His forepaws still pressed against the inside of her haunches, Mazrogal's snout trailed along Asharya's slit, taking in the powerful aroma that fettered his senses and stoked his lust. He wanted nothing more than to slip his tongue through those fleshy folds for another dose of confidence, but that would have him kicked off. No, what Mazrogal needed to do to impress Asharya was press his muzzle against the bottom of her slit, where her scent was strongest, and rub that region slowly, gently, allowing the shudders creeping through Asharya's slit to dictate the pace.
"Grr...ghhhhrrrm," a response soon followed, the sort that no male could ever mistake. "Same tactics, dulled by monotony. Give me a hard, thick reason not to shove you off me and flee into the coming night."
Difficult as it came to any male to part ways with a female's vent, Mazrogal lifted his soggy snout to match her gaze, licking off whatever he could gather in that short a visit. "I didn't find you a second time just to put you through torturous foreplay with no satisfying outcome."
"But you wish you would," the wyverness grinned, genuinely thrilled to have a male so enamored with the scents and tastes nestled between her nether plates.
"Not at the cost of our friendship."
Even now, when his commitment to the fledgling bond he shared with the wyvern burned the brightest, Mazrogal had the most difficult time tearing himself free of instinctual impulses. Arousal overflowed from Asharya's slit, eager to bathe the one part of him best suited for the task at hand. Her insistent gaze, following every throb and jerk of his shaft, fanned the flames of his arousal, clouding whatever doubts he harbored beneath a thick layer of irresistible need.
Devoid of the will to fight his nature any longer, Mazrogal sucked in a deep breath, holding it within his chest as he steadied himself on top of Asharya. He placed his paws on her belly. Then, he aligned his hips with Asharya's, prodding at her entrance with the tip of his member to show his companion that, for better or worse, he was committed to whatever madness overtook the both of them.
"I promise I'll take it as slow as--" Mazrogal' words faltered. Of all the things he expected, a reassuring lick on the tip of his snout, right between the nostrils, didn't count among them.
"Take it however you want, so long as you take me to begin with."
For a moment, dragon and wyvern simply stared at each other, sharing a flow of emotions transmitted through their eyes alone. Mazrogal spotted great and gnawing yearning within those blue-grey pools, lust, along with a touch of hesitation that unnerved and excited him in equal measure. Asharya, too, peered into Mazrogal's soul, the intensity of her gaze almost making the dragon falter. Doubts began slithering under his hide, making him question his actions. What if he inadvertently forced Asharya into surrendering her body to him? What if his friend did this for his benefit more than hers and reassured herself that no partner should be above the other in terms of sharing this boundless joy?
Just as Mazrogal's nerves were about to get the better of him, Asharya brought her haunches around his, pressing her calves against the dragon's rump. The gentle push forced the dragon's spade past Asharya's entrance, slipping it through the tightly clasped lips of the wyvern's quivering depths.
Mazrogal's toes clenched, the claws of his hind paws piercing the soft layer of dirt as the dragon thrust his head upwards, a soft moan escaping his half-opened mouth. Instinct urged him to push himself in deep, to loosen up that tight canal, but he quickly suppressed that side of him. The way Asharya's hips swayed, like the treacherous ripples of the sea, worked him up like nothing else ever did. To feel the slender female grind her slit against his hardness, to surrender himself to the slow, elaborate push of Asharya's legs that carried him deeper and deeper into her very being, brought Mazrogal dangerously close to climax.
"A little too fast, maybe?" Asharya tilted slightly to the side, bringing one of her paws under Mazrogal's chest to ease him back. One by one, his ridges plopped out of her, testing the male's limits. Due to her elevated temperature, rampant throbs and customary tightness, it felt nigh impossible to refuse her body's offer of surrender. So why would she deny herself this greatest of ambitions?
"Grrh, don't push me on my back. Those spikes won't fold at the whim of your mating habits. Try it...from the side?"
From the side? As in position himself opposite to her and leave it to her tail to guide him where he belonged? An interesting proposition, but not what Mazrogal had in mind.
Without giving Asharya time to react, the drake slipped a hind leg under her aloft paw so that his cock had straight access to her vent. A lunge forward was all it took to sink into her down to the last ridge, the claws of his stretched leg clawing out clumps of grass to withstand the strain coursing through his body.
The tantalizing pleasure of plunging too fast into those moist, heated depths turned Mazrogal's muscles taut with lust. His throbbing shaft acquired equal tightness as he tried to grind his knot past Asharya's shuddering folds, guided by the wyvern's tail that slowly intertwined with his.
It didn't budge, just as expected. Asharya might have swallowed Mazrogal's generous girth whole, but the already swollen knot required less finesse, a choice Mazrogal wasn't willing to take no matter how close he got.
At least his female enjoyed him all the same. Asharya's wings jolted in their sockets, shaken by the multitude of sensations gripping her senses, all thanks to the increasingly demanding clenches of her nether muscles. Mazrogal' hips bucked out of their own accord, instinct all but blending into his will. That part of him cared little for the wyvern's welfare, driving him to do what was expected of every male, to knot and hold onto their female until every drop of his poured into her. Mazrogal embraced Asharya in another, more elegant way, with a forepaw rested atop her shoulder and loving licks across the base of her horn, far enough from her snout to avoid risking her ire. They both held onto each other tightly, too caught up in the act of mating to let go.
When the levels of pleasure became manageable enough for Asharya to crack an eye open, the dragon loosened his hold on the wyvern, spreading his legs generously, leaving her slit at Mazrogal' mercy.
With his forelegs held tight by Asharya's wing claws, Mazrogal's footing had never been more solid. He tested his balance with a few thrusts, grunting in delight at the wet squelches that accompanied them. The abundant quantity of fluids increased both of their receptiveness, turning every stroke into a fight against time, of which Mazrogal had precious little. The wilds had been a lonely place. Without proper warmth to sink his spear into, the dragon's endurance took a great blow, especially when his partner was a sweet, caring, and overly wet wyvern. Asharya's willingness to accept him into the core of her being carried a deeper punch than Mazrogal cared to admit, fueling his desire to breed this lovely being.
"A little...morrrr," Asharya's tongue thrust between her lips to moisten her lips. An elaborate ploy to hide her ragged panting, veiling it beneath the visage of control.
"More? Like this?" Mazrogal's knot shoved against her vent, shaking her body from the might of his stroke. Another stroke followed, then another, each stronger than the last, their toll greater on his knot than on her shuddering muscles.
"More!" Searing pain gripped his throat, the kiss of fangs subtler than the last time, dulled down by the pleading licks that followed. "All of it. I want...mmm...all of it..."
Bent on taking Asharya in the feral way she so craved for, Mazrogal began pumping his hips in a fast, steady rhythm, humping her as if his life depended on it. Unaccustomed to such rapid pace, Asharya thrust her head backward, eyes scrunched shut, snout all wrinkled with the furrows of utter bliss as she growled out the passion coursing through every scale and plate of her body.
The sound of utter abandon warmed Mazrogal's heart. It pushed him to go faster, to pound Asharya harder, until the audible thumping of his knot connecting with Asharya's drenched slit mingled with the dragon's soft panting. With another being, in another place, Mazrogal might have lasted longer, but right here, right now, trapped in Asharya's cozy embrace, control no longer mattered. His inner fire burned so bright it threatened to overtake his senses, the throbs of his cock carrying his seed ever forward, until the struggle to hold back grew insurmountable
With a thin, shuddering yowl, Mazrogal rammed himself knot deep into Asharya, his essence shooting out of his spade-shaped tip with the might of an avalanche. The first few lances of seed pelted Asharya's overly sensitive walls, their surprising strength carrying the wyvern to her own peak. Mazrogal would have laughed at the way her eyes bulged, at the half roar, half whimper that Asharya unleashed at the height of her pleasure. However, the dragon's orgasm washed away that silly notion, along with his other thoughts, replacing them with a deep joy at shooting his seed into such tight, quivering confines.
Compared to his previous orgasms, this one lasted longer. So long, in fact, that Mazrogal forgot where he was. All that he knew was warmth, enveloping him from all sides, cradling him within its protective embrace. The first clue on his whereabouts came from Asharya's wing claws latched onto his shoulders, followed by the squirming of her body.
"Don't struggle," he eased her restlessness with a well-placed nuzzle on her cheek. "We're bound together. Just like you wanted."
The wyverness still panicked, unaccustomed to the rigors of true mating, only for her struggle to falter into weak moans. Pleasure always won. Mazrogal felt it within the steady tremors of her walls; inside the tight clenching of her muscles, bent on draining him dry. With a female unaccustomed to the practice, every sensation, starting at the tip of his cock and ending at the base of his knot, felt meaningful, intimate.
Blissful.
Mazrogal had but melt on top of her in suave embrace, draping her with his superior bulk, fully enveloping their union within the shelter of his wings.
"Breathe slow. Relax. Let your body guide you," one of his forepaws dragged her head against his neck, feeling the wetness of elation wet his scales. Curious, how a being that would never consciously shed tears did so with no regret for their implication, lost amidst the churn of her body.
As much as Mazrogal wanted to linger within that plane of ubiquitous bliss, he couldn't, not when his seed stopped flowing and his knot began to waver, surrendering the last of its strength.
As soon as he pulled back, a deluge of gooey semen squirted in the absence of his girth, covering Asharya's tailhole and slithering down the sides of her tail.
"I thought...it would never end..." the wyverness drew in a deep, comforting breath. With it returned control over her senses. Previously tame and still paws now grabbed at his haunch or sought to slip between them, all so that she could reassert control. "I don't want it inside me ever again."
Why? Because it softened her into a tame, purring pile of shuddering limbs?
"A single mating. Wasn't that the deal?"
Her pause said to him more than the unconvincing lie that followed. "What point is there in mindless repetition?"
Mazrogal couldn't help but nibble on the top of the first toe his snout touched, purring in glee as Asharya released a surprisingly gentle and inviting croon.
"Back where you are the most comfortable, mmm?"
"Or where I feel the most needed. I never did get to explore your paws the way I wish." He gave it a soothing lick before facing his companion, savoring her lack of a retort.
"How about you prove yourself in other ways?" Asharya's tail coiled around his neck, guiding him to the mixture of thicker goo splotches diluted by her clearer, strong-scented fluids. "It is your doing after all."
***The End***
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