A warm invitation
This is a story commission Nulkurrak has done for Xigfeldo
Description: While seeking refuge from a fierce storm, Verenar stumbles upon a sleeping dragon whose feminine scent permeates the cave they're in despite his splayed-out member. Though his first instinct is to avoid intruding into a stranger's home, that intent quickly fades away, brushed aside by the dragon's tempting invitation.
Xigfeldo(c) belongs to https://www.furaffinity.net/user/saphirafafnar
Verenar(c) belongs to me
***A Warm Invitation***
Every dragon has to face their inner storm. To wrestle with it; to conquer it one desperate wing beat at a time. When your turn comes to face it, do so with utmost conviction, otherwise your doubts will be the end of you.
So his adoptive mother had said after besting one of the fiercest storms Verenar had witnessed up to that point. He had trembled worse than she did, terrified of the primordial might of the howling winds ready to crush those who defied them. The icy touch of her scales had only added to the sting of fear, believing her to be brittle like an icicle, up until her wing came down around him and her pads began to pulse with enkindling warmth.
She then explained to him why she did it; why she risked being tossed into the forest, dashed against the mountains, or hurled into the ground. At the time, Verenar bit her frills in retribution, all hisses and growls, but now that he undertook the same trial, her meaning became clear.
Fear was an insidious weed, spreading and growing, turning dragons into meek creatures concerned with living the lives of mundane predators. Just like his mother, Verenar needed a reminder of his true inner strength; of fighting through the winds with everything he got or risk succumbing to their will, unworthy of the skies.
Yet even now, trapped amidst cold and darkness, every wing beat a frantic effort to stay true to his course, Verenar's focus dwelled not on the proving, but on his sister. With her around, the two would have cuddled within the nearest shelter, sharing the blanket of wings, warmth and purring affection. She weakened him, just like he kept her from fulfilling her childhood ambition of discovering the fate of their parents.
No more. He had his storm to face, just like she had hers.
Warmth became a distant memory, replaced by pervasive pain stabbing him from every side. The numbness instilled by the freezing air helped alleviate that discomfort, swapping it for crippling rigidity within his tail and wings, making it increasingly harder to steer through the treacherous vortex seeking to still his feeble efforts to persevere. Every moment spent within the howling tempest silenced the last of the fading tingles creeping through his aching muscles, snuffing out the remaining vestiges of whatever heat his scales still sheltered. Everywhere he looked, hail and darkness greeted him, this abyss bearing no reflections nor vague scents to help guide the direction of his flight.
Left with but one option, Verenar forced his wings to his sides, angling forward in a steep dive. Sleet pelted the sage colored scales of his throat and chest, the sting dulled to bothersome tickles by their protective thickness. His flight membranes, draped over hazy, unfocused eyes, fared much worse, the stab of icy needles against them as noticeable as to the soreness pulsing within every inch of frills and wing membranes alike.
Verenar's wings spread just as the clap of lightning ignited the whole world for a second, the light bouncing off the barren walls of a canyon. A few seconds longer, and he'd have delved into a passage of condensed winds carrying the strength of a raging river. Redressing at the last moment, the green dragon made use of a brief pause in the winds to soar past the crest of the canyon, aiming himself at the forested clumps bending and groaning under the wind's sway.
The currents were calmer here, heavier with the abundant rain streaming over every scale of his. Finding it a good moment to recover some of his stamina, the green dragon borrowed the wind's strength instead of fighting against its will, arching his frame to catch the drafts against strained, fully extended wings. It did not matter where the gusts carried him, for everything looked more or less the same down below, a foggy swathe of trees joined together in malformed patches separated by deep ravines.
The comfort of the forest soared past him, stripped away by the choice he made when he relinquished control in favor of tempestuous guidance. Better to let the dread-filled sky lead him where it pleased and shed the burden of responsibility for once.
That liberating feeling ended as abruptly as his flight. Caught in a downward spiral from which the only escape was a second, barely controlled plunge, the green dragon drew from the last embers of faltering strength to steady his course, aiming for the foot of cliffs blocking the most vicious currents hailing from the north.
After hours spent freezing his pads off in the dreary open, Verenar's frigid toes refused to will his claws out, leading to an inelegant lurch forward, followed by a stumble to the left and a lunge to the right. Were it not for his tail to anchor him, for his wings to lessen his weight, his belly would have scraped its scales raw against the frigid ground.
And it wasn't over. Just a few careless steps ahead, the relatively straight portion angled forward, requiring the aid of his wings to steady him. A treacherous film of ice blanketed the slant littered with stinging, bothersome pebbles, his footing anything but steady over the rolling curtain of little stones. They provided nothing in the way of stability, crumbling under his pads mere moments after sneaking between his toes to trigger sharp, displeased yelps and hisses.
Worse than a pricking, tiny rock lodged into the crevices surrounding his pads was the uncooperative state of his body. Completely drenched, battered from every side by the merciless wind, everything throbbed, felt numb or shivered. As soon as the slope evened out, Verenar's wings fell down to his sides, hugging his tight flanks while wheezing for breath. Curious, how it felt harder to breathe down on the ground once the thrill of braving the storm started to falter. It was as if his body had no more to give, ready to accept defeat and fall where his paws gave up.
Sheer determination kept the green drake going, along with the knowledge of keeping to the darker, drier portions within the mountain, following the humans' teachings on how to spot a safe haven from the storm even in pitch black darkness. Once the shadows of the crag he headed towards absorbed him and the pelting darts of ice stopped their onslaught, the tremors flared ever brighter. Heavy and intense, they chastised him for his foolishness by rattling every scale on his body, keeping him alert and swaying from one spot to the next in search of a nook or cranny to curl within for the night.
He almost encountered the perfect spot under a natural lip protruding from several feet above, permitting even a grown dragon to slip under. Verenar did just that, only for his balance to waver on the supposedly safe ground, tossing his lumbering form forward.
"Grawh!" The drake's vision flickered. Banging his onyx-colored horns on the wall ahead shook vivid dizziness into his skull, causing him to reel for balance. Were it not for the tunnel's restrictive tightness, he'd have tumbled down the slope in a heap of fluttering wings and whimpering complaints, but the limiting corridor maintained him on his feet thanks to the thumbs of his wings grappling onto swells and protrusions in the walls.
As Verenar's senses recovered, the first thing he noticed was the diminished howl of the gale, reduced to the occasional whistle. This darkness that now engulfed him was warmer, bereft of pelting icewater, filled with staler smells clashing with the humid freshness wafting from behind.
This wasn't just a hollow to curl within, but a den. An occupied one filled by the unmistakable musk of a female languishing in the throes of her heat. A second, spicier fragrance overlapped with hers, bearing the same gentle allure, a similarity he couldn't quite place. Every dragon smelled different, be it because of their kind, diet, or the various stages of sexual frustration either gender battled at specific moments in their life.
Not this one. The roughness of male odor permeated the sweeter tones of her heat, both appealing and daunting to Verenar's piqued interest. Disturbing the den of a mated pair could lead to unnecessary conflict, but his desperate state demanded refuge from frigid currents laden with biting ice. As soon as his heartbeats steadied and feeling returned to his moist pads, Verenar pressed on through the slanting corridor, clawed toes curling and flexing around the jutting swells in the stone floor.
The shimmer of incandescent magic rippled through an opening to the left, the lower ceiling there forcing Verenar to crawl his way through, lest he snagged his wings on the dripping stone candles hanging in spiraling forms. Blazing radiance shuttered his flight membranes over his squinting eyes, the collection of spheres spilling from a leather pouch at the edges of the silver dragon's bedding resplendent in their craftmanship. Unlike the bottled fire the humans Verenar was accustomed to employed, those crystalline globes entrapped surges of vivid magic, caging the essence of an element in a shimmering prison to dictate its intensity, should said magic resonate with the user.
Curious on whether he could influence their shine, Verenar projected a figment of his magical energy, employing the simplest and most widely used form of spirit magic. Whoever this dragon was cared little for their possessions, for one second later, Verenar subdued the fire to a tame flicker befitting a resting dragon.
And what a dragon this one was, bearing an elusive silver color present throughout the entirety of his body! Shadows and light dictated its nuance, able to conjure the image of a darker, ferocious creature or a softer, lithe predator slinking through gaps and crannies while hunting in the Silversand canyon. Its tall, expressive crest stole Verenar's attention, a blanket of homogenous fluff elegantly spilled over the rest of its shorter mane that clumped into places, giving it a wooly appearance.
So the rain caught it too. Maybe even the storm. Its bedding looked relatively dry, save for the moistness creeping from between the lightly shuddering legs. Most curious was the gender of this dragon, plated like a male yet leaking distinctly feminine juices from the narrow gap separating shaft from anus.
It had to be a male, to be sure, for half of a wet, glistening member spilled out of the hole where his tailhole used to be. Right about it, the fleshy folds of what uncannily resembled a female's vent swelled with ripe flavors, oozing out a trail of translucent arousal.
As soft as his feminine folds, the strange male's penis had a tame and unassuming appearance, its only distinctive feature being the halfway swollen spade of its tip. A hanging droplet of precum spilled over the assortment of furs he rested on, responsible for the piquant tang he detected earlier. Far more confusing was the rest of his sex, where the feminine folds encased between the softer plates of his underbelly swelled, throbbed and gushed out the tangy, captivating odor greedily sucked in by Verenar's nostrils. It coaxed expected result from between his legs, infusing warmth into his blood and alert thuds within his temples, adding bewildering, conflicting thoughts within his heat-entranced mind.
It...couldn't be heat. Yet it smelled like it and lured him out of his slit all the same, adding to his dumbfounded state. With his belly turning into a churning tempest of unexpected nerves, Verenar stepped away from the lithe majesty of the silver dragon splayed on comfortable bedding, overtaken by shame, by the indecency of invading another dragon's home. Every male grew between the legs when tempted by such sights and exotic flavors, but so quick? So...desperately? Absent any regard for how the crudeness of his nagging instinct might be perceived by a stranger who might very well find his uncontrolled urges offensive?
Restlessness got the better of Verenar, guiding him back into the swelling darkness. Already did the creeping coolness of outside lap away at his member, snuffing out his fire, shrinking his lust back until all that remained was the wet, bothersome speckle of its memory. Equally jarring was the transition from the comfortable dryness of the floor to the damp, chilly, slippery surface his pads could only navigate with his claws out. Verenar forced himself forward, battling the reluctance of leaving a cozy den every step of the way, only to cringe as the first raindrop met his snout.
He retreated from the pattering hail as if stung, the memory of the ferocious winds tossing him around embedded into his trembling limbs. He couldn't go out again. Even the simple stretch of his wings was met with protesting aches. His eyelids hung heavy over exerted eyes, blotting out the slivers of panic crawling down his spine.
A few minutes of contemplating his decision was all it took for his pang of self-consciousness to fade away. The answer lied right where his paws stood, on the lukewarm fringe separating the safety of a lair from the whooshing gale howling through the midnight.
Yes. He could rest here, where the fresh air wiped off the traces of bodily temptation. Curled around himself in a shivering ball, the strangest of thoughts soared their way into Verenar's mind, accompanied by the vivid picture of the dragon he just met, wet and throbbing with need. Did he have someone to alleviate the fire burning under his tail as Ferlandra had done for him? Were the dragons of these parts acceptant of his uniqueness? Could Verenar, a gallivanting, purposeless leaf in the wind, accept the consequences of his apathy, in case another less civilized male encountered that unique individual?
Had he a mate, they'd have warmed his lonely form. Soothed his scalding folds with gentle licks, purred their affection into his ear as a constant reminder of the feelings their joint bodies stirred within them. Like Verenar, he likely had none.
Not any longer, if the state of his sex provided any indication of that.
"There is no need for you to rest here. Come along. My bed is wide enough to hold two." The dragon's smooth, pleasant, distinctly masculine voice shot Verenar onto his legs and sent a chill down Verenar's frills. His tail turned stiff, an unresponsive and equally unexpressive rod. What could he possibly say or do to justify his intrusion into his territory, his lair?!
Verenar slowly, timidly turned his head around. The first thing he spotted was not the head of his surprisingly generous host, but the flick of his graceful tail swishing from side to side. The wad of fluff tipping it was bound to catch the attention of anyone, especially when it moved so tantalizingly. Females did that at the apex of their heat, generating meager currents to cool down the fire pulsing through their flesh. Those tail motions also helped spread their wafting odor, one that Verenar's nostrils hungrily feasted on.
"No male should share the bed of a fem--of another dragon in heat," Verenar corrected himself.
"Rrrr," the stranger's head rose, the slits of his eyes narrowed in excitement. "I'm a male, and a female. Call me however you wish, though I'd prefer Xigfeldo, or Xig. I'm more than just a pair of genitals, rmmm?"
Verenar quickly turned around to bow his head in deference. This dragon shared not only his home, but his name. It felt impolite to treat him to his back.
"I'm Verenar, a mere--"
"Leaf in the wind," Xigfeldo alluded to his coloring, darkened by the slickness of rain. The light from further inside the cavern barely reached here, where most of what the two dragons saw was the ghostly glow of their reflecting eyes.
That certainly helped Verenar's predicament. Against all decency, his uncontrollable throbs forced the tip of his member to peek out, drawn by the smell of heat.
"Don't fret too much about growing hard." Xigfeldo somehow spotted that troublesome detail. His serene chuckle had a calming and inviting playfulness to it, specific to one who had faced far more varied and awkward situations than this one. "The same would happen to any healthy male who has been away from their partner for a few days. It's how instinct works."
He knew that! His protracting claws, tight against the stone floor, understood that well enough to wish to spring him out into the storm one confused, desperate leap at a time.
When the stranger next spoke, the words came out louder. Closer, as evidenced by the growing strength of the curtain of heat that enveloped him. It was perverse to desire him so much! Not just obscene, but downright frightening. Was this what prolonged loneliness did to a dragon? Turn them into simpletons unable to focus on anything else but their foremost need throbbing wildly through their achingly thick shaft?
"If not from my scent, then from the fantasy of relieving your bottled lust inside me."
What? He said something before. Unrelated to his scent. Something about...
Verenar couldn't recall over the condemning click and clack of claws of long, sinuous toes bouncing off the cavern's walls. Shameful heat pulsed through his frills. He could practically hear his racing heartbeats echo deep within his skull, chiding him for taking so long with that most obvious of answers.
"I don't wish to disturb," the green dragon brought his tail frilled tail around to shield his growing embarrassment with the help of the lavish tip. "I'll remain here for the night. It's... for the best."
"The best for whom? Your principles?" the older dragon's playful hum allayed some of his nagging concerns. It oozed alluring confidence, the sort that challenged one's perception with the situation at hand.
"Most males in your position wouldn't think twice of seeking solace under my tail. Forgive me for insisting, but it's rare that I come across a dragon whose morality fights back against what nature had intended."
There was nothing natural about him, or this predicament! If it wasn't for his calm, composed bearing, Verenar would have bolted a few minutes ago! But now, it was too late, as dictated by his full erection locking him in place. Unless he intended to leave this place stumbling and yelping every time his shaft slapped against his belly, Verenar had to recollect himself. To seize the opportunity of stifling his immediate need with the mentally engaging prospect of learning how a dragon of two genders exuded such charming confidence.
Searing light sparked into existence, cast by one of the spheres lodged inside a crack in the wall. Verenar's flight membranes protected his teary eyes from the blaze, mirroring Xigfeldo's.
"Apologies, but the floor is treacherous on this portion of the den."
A little bit. But definitely not for his draconic paws. As expected, Xigfeldo couldn't help himself from noticing his erection. From...admiring it. The storm had left Verenar so exhausted that even cringing or otherwise turning away from his companion came difficult to him.
Besides, what would that accomplish but humiliate him further? He preferred female company over that of a male, and by the looks of it, Xigfeldo's member no longer made its appearance. For all intents and purposes, he looked and smelled like a female, deeper voice or not.
"I'm comfortable waiting for your excitement to dwindle, but it might be quicker if..." he tail arched suggestively over his back, wiggling the fluffed tip at Verenar.
He froze. Not in shock nor disbelief, but from the raw overwhelm of how right that hit. The sharp breath he sucked in removed the boulder settled over his heart, allowing clarity to dawn over him. What else was a dragon in Xigfeldo's condition to do but tease? Taking that away from him upset Verenar's tight gut as much as it instilled renewed arousal into his persisting erection.
It would go away once the novelty wore off. He had been around enough females to trust in that repeating truth.
And yet, Xigfeldo's eyes had a mysterious pull, two shimmering, warmth-filled orbs intent on studying Verenar in search of that one elusive answer.
"What makes you dwell so obsessively on your current state?" Xigfeldo stepped closer to him than ever before. So close, in fact, that the billowing warmth exhaled by his nostrils tickled Verenar's frilled crest. "Have you been with dozens of different females, and just as many males? I'm older, far better traveled, and surprisingly sympathetic to the needs that ail my partners, so don't shut yourself to this opportunity. Not many dragons in these parts share my openness."
That remark added an even fiercer blush to his crest webbing and cheeks alike. He was right, though. No point in denying the attraction, artificially induced as it was. Not from a dragon who might take his reluctance the wrong way.
Intent on proving his neutrality with the specificity of his gender, Verenar relaxed his tail. Little by little, the pinkness of his member gained amplitude. Forms began to take shape. The row of ridges lining the sides of his malehood now stood in full view, decreasing in girth until the middle of his length where they flattened into smooth, hard meat. The same couldn't be said for the ones running across the underside of his shaft. Those began at the spaded tip, its edges adorned by pointy yet undaunting nubs, and continued all the way to the very base.
All of it now lied in full display, a taxing trial to a dragon who tried his best to maintain his breaths even and restrain his limbs from squirming.
"You'll grow antsy before long," the silver dragon's purr sounded both jovial and lascivious. "And time is ever in my favor."
Was it? Had somebody even quelled the unrest of his heat? Verenar's crest webbing smoldered a deep shade at the height of lust-induced anxiety, for deep within that part of mind he tried to wall off, a truly scandalous thought brewed.
That his pent-up seed was just the thing Xigfeldo's neglected insides needed for a restful sleep.
Instead of dismissing it outright, Verenar considered that possibility. Entering the female parts of this surprisingly upfront dragon could do the both of them good. His genitals might not be ordinary, but their exotic nature carried their own appeal, more so when both scents mirrored their individual counterparts yet shared enough similarities to provide attractive symmetry.
"The invitation has been extended," his companion rolled the fluffy tip of his tail over Verenar's nostrils to distract him from the gale of anxiousness whistling through his mind. "If breeding me without worrying about the aftermath of your ejaculation does indeed bother you, then join me for a night of stories. Got quite the engaging tales to distract you from the firmness of your malehood."
With how wet with anxious slickness his pads felt, Verenar all but forgot that he had everything on full display, at its maximum girth. An ephemeral glimpse of pink, moist flesh under that playfully swaying tail reminded Verenar of why the silver dragon pointed out that detail. Of course he wanted Verenar inside him.
But did his words hold true? Could he truly finish inside his wet, trembling folds without giving second thought to the repercussions?
The appeal of such carefree mating etched itself to the forefront of Verenar's mind. It made it terribly difficult to dwell on anything else but the impulse--the need--to ejaculate his frustrations, both physical and spiritual, into a willing partner thirsting for the same quality release.
"I'm...quite comfortable here," Verenar erred on the side of caution. Given the restricted space and the meat protruding from between the legs, it took him more than a few tries to find a correct angle or a suitable pose to lie down. A side lounge best solved his problem, but the slant made that treacherous while the length of his body prohibited a relaxed perpendicular position between the two constrictive walls.
"Comfortable indeed..." the clack of claws came to a jarring halt further down the tunnel, a pause that set Verenar's spikes on end.
Xigfeldo, however, did not turn back.
In the end, Verenar remained up on his feet. The floor felt too rough and uneven to provide a comfortable rest. Being cooped up between walls too close to one another, with barely any room to turn or stretch his wings, felt even worse. After several minutes of weighing this situation at the cost of his retracting member, the green dragon settled for following the dim glow spilling from Xigfeldo's sleeping chamber.
Every squelch of pads hitting the hard stone was accompanied by a lustful throb easing him out of his soppy vent. The previous erection's aftermath made this second round even more embarrassing, for he could feel the previous layer of precum smear over his spade. Its gooeyness dressed his protruding shaft in a moist, drooping cloak too heavy to linger on his pulsing meat. It drooled halfway down, swinging at every step.
"Ewrh..." Verenar's disgusted grimace reflected the unease churning in his stomach. The rain could have cleansed the filth of lust and wash away the fire slithering through his scales.
And yet...
"Arrh, you've chosen sensibly" Xigfeldo's previously slumped head rose from the bundled fur he hugged between his forepaws. A good idea to fashion a pillow out one of the many blankets he had no particular need of. "I dislike sleeping on hard surfaces, so much so that I procured these furs from the village down in the valley."
His hindquarters shifted off the middle of the bed--and off the glaring stain his heat had created. If it could even be called that, for the middle looked distinctly liquid, with just the right amounts of thickness to keep it sticky. Though he paid it no mind, Xigfeldo still folded the corner of that pelt over his arguable mess while favoring Verenar an inviting smile.
He only had to settle down. Plenty of room in the relatively spacious cauldron of a room. Though their wings might scrape their claws against the walls when fully stretched, this den seemed as good as any to house one haggard dragon and another perky crest.
Those last steps seemed impossible to take. The same predicament from before rooted him on the spot, crimson, leaky and angry. This time, Xigfeldo no longer gave him the courtesy of his patience, wearing the visage of authority on his otherwise placid expression.
No...no! Why was he getting up! He shouldn't--he should have remained put!
"It's painfully obvious why you visited me." Xigfeldo's neck greeted Verenar's stiff one, familiar with the greetings of his kind. Xigfeldo's finer scales, similar to those of a female, sailed over his with barely a rustle. "And it is not tales of any variety I can conceive."
A single glimpse of those majestic eyes bearing the color of old gold said to Verenar more than his words expressed. This dragon had already weathered many a storm, physical and spiritual, acquiring a piercing wisdom no younger dragon should overlook. Intrigued, if not fully convinced, Verenar leaned his heavy head on his fur-laced shoulder, sighing his growly frustration with the positioned he found himself in.
"Young dragons..." Xigfeldo's cheek leaned against his, letting his warmth seep into Verenar. "Weaving as many senseless troubles into their lives as they can fit."
He had something to say in his defense, yet the silky caress of fur dusted off his turmoil. Who could argue with such soft-smelling and inviting dragon? More so when he offered himself in the service of banishing tormenting lust?
Verenar no longer had the vigor to hold the loneliness at bay. It had been months since he last rubbed scales with another dragon, and never had he so hungrily breathed in that divine aroma of condensed desire! They might not be mates, as evidenced by the lack of emotional intimacy, but two dragons did not have to go through the dance of tongues to share one another.
Xigfeldo understood that better than most dragons. He retreated from Verenar without as much as a nuzzle, intent on giving him the space to accept what he offered absent the burden of emotional ties.
The two used this time to gauge one another. Rich insight, bestowed upon him by plenty of similar experiences, smoldered within those golden, mischievous pools. His stare alone seduced Verenar; it pulled him closer with the confidence it exuded, daring him to confess what ailed him most. He would take care of him. Of that, Verenar was certain.
And it had been so frustratingly long since he last had a dragon bear his spiritual burden.
"Oh, you lovely drake..." Xigfeldo's purr elevated the green dragon's heartbeats, its sympathetic resonance overwhelming. "I don't know what you've been through, or what troubles forced you to risk the wrath of such a fierce storm, but you no longer have to endure your trials in silence. Nor to let them get the best of you..."
That last part was addressed to his cock. Alarmingly vulgar, if not for his even tone and graceful demeanor. Xigfeldo far too well understood the symptoms of a hollow heart, and in the case of males, one only had to look between their tail to gauge the full extent of the suppressed desire they harbored.
He could no longer stay apart from Verenar. It was as if Xigfeldo knew that not even several nights spent in this exact position, their eyes bearing into each other, could make any more of a difference. Elegant as a shadow panther, the silver dragon circled Verenar's still frame, employing the touch of wings, the subtle flicks of his tail brushing against the more sensitive sage colored scales of Verenar to get his point across.
The edges of Verenar's crest frills smoldered with deep, lust-filled panic. He could feel his nether muscles contract and pulse, pushing his wet, swelling tip out into the open for the umpteenth time, tugged by Xigfeldo's intense and irresistible scent. It was all made worse by his physicality; by that tail weaving across his body like a slithering serpent dressed in too much fluff at the end. All the while, his golden eyes, laden with certainty, glanced at him now and then in the split of a second to ensure no telltale signs of refusal escaped his notice
This was all too similar to a trick females often employed to maintain an air of arousing mystery behind their next action. And it worked! Verenar was almost ready to respond to his initiative and set his own pace.
But Xigfeldo was faster.
The enigmatic frolic ended with Xigfeldo's snout inches from Verenar's precum-dribbling tip. Seeing his partner size up his cock like that made the barbed end of his spade paint comical visage of a mountain's jagged top, where each jutting spire competed in size with the one next to it.
"It..." The green drake paused to swallow down his rising panic. "It looks fearsome, but I always take it slow, following my partner's rhythm."
But it didn't always work, did it? Especially in the beginning where his eagerness led to premature bursts of passion thanks to how overwhelming a female's clenching muscles could feel around features design to elicit strong sensations from him.
"I prefer that you follow your own rhythm," his jovial purr flared to life with just one flick of his expressive crest. "I've been with all sorts, and those pointy nubs shouldn't even be called barbs. They got just the right amount of bite to scratch away that troublesome, persistent itch I never seem to get rid of."
It happened so fast. So...unexpected. One moment, they were about to settle in for the night, and the next, Verenar saw a partner in him, ripe to be entered and seeded. His wings should have spirited him away from the first sign of susceptibility with Xigfeldo's strong and damning scent, but they remained glued to his back, folded, useless.
Bound in place by higher priorities.
Xigfeldo's crest swelled with overflowing joy at his timid shuffle away from his approaching snout. He enjoyed this game; relished it, even. He further exploited the young dragon's thinning self-control through a controlled gust of his fluttering wings. In an instant, the ensnaring haze of pheromones no longer dwelled under his tail alone. It filled the entire space of the already restrictive chamber, blanketing Verenar wholly. A tease, he'd obvious call it. A game.
But in his state, that of a male who hadn't been inside a female for a few moons by now, it all seemed much more vivid and provocative, a truth that Xigfeldo wished to fully exploit.
"Determination is charming. Stubbornness is acceptable. But denial...that's not something many females find attractive..." Slyness thrummed within the silver dragon's purr as he wound his way over to Verenar, his steps subtle, calculated, a testimony to his heightened control over his heat.
Like the cascading waves of need flooding him, the intensity of Xigfeldo's captivating serenade ebbed and flowed depending on his proximity to Verenar's rigid frame. Oh, he made a show of acquainting himself with colors, patterns and features he did not yet spot before through cute and short nuzzling, but his dipping gaze betrayed his true intent.
"I should have been more forthcoming about how heat affects my gender," the fast, almost nervous lick across his snout relaxed the tension present in Verenar's muscles, reminding him that, for all his grace and experience, Xigfeldo still answered to his instinct first and foremost. "It has irregular cycles, spurred by interest in a partner, manifested in dreams I often have no control over. I can tell you more about it, but the most important detail relates to your seed, as well as my gender's ability to prevent it from blooming unless you bathe my womb repeatedly. For a single instance or two, it's completely safe to finish inside me, heat or no heat."
The peak of his excited purr hit its climax when their golden gaze met yet again, a clash of unapologetic longing staring down gut-churning anxiety with how fast this moment came to be. No warning. No courting. No rules.
A simple invitation, forwarded in the spur of the moment, made all the more erotic by Xigfeldo's curious gender. Though a male at heart, Xigfeldo positively reeked of the intention to breed, his smell every bit as inviting and stimulating as that of a female.
He looked like one down there, under the tail. Likely felt like one, if the trail of fluids he leaked, prompted by familiar shudders, offered any indication. With just a brief moment shared between the two, Verenar had no way of knowing whether his seed would take hold aside from what Xigfeldo just told him. It was that possibility, of finding soothing relief barring the risks, that hardened Verenar with purpose, his throbs as eager as the thrumming of his overly ecstatic heart.
"Don't dwell too much on it," Xigfeldo's soothing licks over each of his nostrils provided Verenar with the incentive his strained instinct needed to lean into the silver dragon's caress, moaning in suppressed relief. "Mating is an impulsive affair, bereft of reason. Given the pent-up state of your shaft, it looks like you don't frequently breed, let alone finish inside your partners?"
After one final rub of wan scales rustling against his forest green ones, Xigfeldo's flaming eyes were replaced by the curves of his haunches and the soppy pinkness of his vent, flushed and swollen by the same nefarious need that cascaded through Verenar's body. The green dragon's flared nostrils drank deep of his offering, letting the sweet, spicy fragrance churn within him, a roiling madness stifling his worries, enkindling his repressed desires.
"Better not wait until your eagerness seeds the ground instead," the fluff tipping Xigfeldo's tail sailed over his neck invitingly, drawing him closer. "Males with a musk as telling as yours are often overcome with explosive passion that is quick to burst unless you take the initiative."
All Verenar could do was huff, stare, listen to Xigfeldo's enchanting voice, aware of what he wanted to say--what he wanted to ask--but being completely unable to. The tightness of his slit, the twitches of his cock robbed him of intellect, reducing him to one base impulse that now became his ultimate goal.
He couldn't resist the temptation. The allure. The cordial invitation by such a striking and confident dragon.
Verenar's body lurched forward, clumsy forelegs clasping around Xigfeldo's lithe flanks, the arch of his body driving his aching erection forward.
"A little further," Xigfeldo chirped enticingly, crouching forward, hoisting his rear upward to create a natural curve for Verenar's embracing form. "Grab hold of my haunches. Yes, like that. Now just hold tight."
Huffs, puffs, low growls of frustration marked the green dragon's struggle between self-control and lascivious abandon. Part of him still wished to pull back. To drop down on all fours and seek to allay his companion's discomfort in less intrusive ways.
That figment of lucidity immediately vanished from Verenar's mind, sealed away by the fettering kiss of moist, warm flesh. A simple, single touch on the very tip of his member, and Verenar's hips surged forward, sheltering as much of his pulsating erection into the blissful reprieve of a female's welcoming embrace. For all the quirks of his gender, Xigfeldo felt no different than Ferlandra, allowing Verenar to sink as deep into him as he did back then, in a different time, struck by similarly demanding need.
"Khhr--khrrawr!" The green drake's shuddering haunches molded around Xigfeldo's slender ones, seeking the best position to force in the last two missing ridges throbbing against spasm-ridden folds, swollen by high heat. Xigfeldo's constricting walls, ridged with smooth elegance like the winding valleys of a canyon, pressed down against his hardened rod, clamping against barbs, nubs and fleshy protrusions designed for thrusting stimulation that refused to come.
The urge to breed burned fiercely within the drake's squinted eyes. Tears of blissful strain marred the edges of his vision, clouding his already fading sight. It was happening, as sudden and impersonal as he expected it to be. Beneath the starry veil of incoming orgasm lied no apology.
Just unbridled lust.
Xigfeldo's body quaked under him, wracked by jolts of stimulating pleasure stemming from the immense satisfaction of being filled so thoroughly. Stunned by the same debilitating shock brought by the too sudden, too deep thrust, Xigfeldo's quaking limbs mirrored Verenar's own instability on his awkwardly swaying feet. This perplexing dance of a drake trying to cling onto the faltering balance of his mate delayed Verenar's climax by a few seconds, his body obsessed with instinctual urge to seed his female deep and right. Already he could feel those hungry muscles squelch, grip and tighten around him, the slickness brought by Xigfeldo's overflowing fluids ensuring that the light, jerking thrusts of barbs, ridges and nubs posed no risk of unpleasant snagging or tugging.
"Graawh!" Verenar cried out at the end of a violent lurch meant to drive in the last remaining inches of his cock, stuffing Xigfeldo with all that he had to give. Stiffened by months of solitude, Verenar's cock not only occupied all of Xigfeldo's available space, but applied pressure on quaking, suckling walls thirsty for such a rare seed, thickened into aged honey. Within the inviting sanctuary of a dragon overtaken by similarly intense urges, Verenar grew light-headed and incoherent. The battle between conservative concerns and instinctive goals imposed by a male's primordial purpose had been lost the moment he entered Xigfeldo.
So why not just...let go for once?
Verenar couldn't. Even as he teetered on the brink of sanity, his tenets remained steadfast. He had to--he couldn't...it shouldn't be this simple!
And yet it was. Shockingly so.
It wasn't just the tight, distinctly feminine pressure of Xigfeldo's tunnel, nor the heavy miasma, laden with arousing pheromones, that swelled every feature of Verenar's cock with the finality of his orgasm. Everything about Xigfeldo worked in tandem to coax the seed out of him, starting from his confident demeanor in acknowledging him as a suitable partner and ending with his curling tail seeking to wrap around his as a final act of reassurance.
"Mrrmmmm, let it loose. Let it all flow out of you," his rump gently pushed against the base of Verenar's member, the hungry lips of his sex constricting around that final set of thicker yet infinitely vulnerable ridges. "You can't last another thrust. I can feel it in your ridges, sense it in your throbs, hear it in your growl."
He was right, so right! Verenar's neglected cock relished every detail of Xigfeldo's insides, the immense pressure welling up within him overjoyed at finding a proper nesting place for his essence. Every single ridge, barb, nub on his shaft fell prey to the fondling clutch of Xigfeldo's contracting vent, to the sudden, shrill-inducing spasms meant to drive any faltering male past the limit of their endurance.
No longer willing--or able--to fight back the whims of Xigfeldo's arousal-drenched depths, Verenar's resolve gave in with a yowl, muffled by Xigfeldo's luxurious crest fur. Gushes of thick, hot, pent-up seed flooded the quaking depths of his companion, their searing strength making Verenar's vision flicker. Paralyzing satisfaction stunned him, every frill aflame, every scale tingling from the immense relief coursing through him and shooting into his partner one terse, lancing spurt at a time.
Xigfeldo's telltale squeezes aggravated the wild, impatient, almost desperate gushes of cum fleeing Verenar's overworked member. While his strained mind, completely drowned in the ecstasy of climax, didn't immediately place it, his instinct certainly remembered how a female's peak of pleasure felt like. It started out dull, almost in opposition to that of a male, before breaking into a crescendo of increasingly swifter contractions. The vivid truth of how much Xigfeldo savored his seed augmented the young drake's release to high heavens, draining him so thoroughly that the feeling in his limbs almost blacked out.
The cacophony of two distinct cries, one smooth and eloquent, the other ragged and feral, retorted back at the dragons by the enclosing walls. Exhausted as he was, Verenar still couldn't help himself from crying out his utter delight at how sensational this felt. At how much he had needed this.
"Ghh...ghhhr...rrhhrrr..." Panting breaths rolled out of Verenar's slack jaws. Now that his ecstatic energy transferred into Xigfeldo, the weight of his deeds heavily dawned on his trembling haunches and sagging frills.
"You don't have to--"
The audible splash of cascading fluids splattering their indulgence over rock and paws alike answered to whatever request Xigfeldo wished to forward. Verenar groaned in disgust at his weakness, snout wry with the inability to shoot his seed deeper.
Or perhaps that was how seclusion looked like, a drab mass of ivory curdles coated by gobs of pungent-smelling female ejaculate. His stomach twisted into a knot at the slight possibility that an elegant dragon like Xigfeldo might lick it off, only for it to untangle the moment a blanket covered the foremost proof of their depravity.
He did not, however, wipe himself. Xigfeldo carefully lowered onto his side, sliding a protective haunch over his messy vent. He wished to leave it like that; to fall asleep to the inner satisfaction of being filled. Only mated couples did that!
Such petty detail did not bother Verenar's sapped mind. He went through too many emotional states to still dwell on that. No anxieties, no promises of sexual relief remained to wall off the creeping fatigue from fully hitting him.
"I can't..." he tried to shrug off the invitation of a wing attempting to become his blanket.
"You will," Xigfeldo's authoritative voice demanded no argument. He tackled Verenar's languid form in the most unexpected and tender of ways, dragging him down into a full embrace where his throat supported the drake's sighing head.
"Accept companionship whenever it finds you. Life is far richer when others brighten it for you."
Warmed by his scales, caressed by his gentle paw sand lulled to sleep by the rhythmical song of his soaring heart, Verenar's eyes shuttered fully, and his conscience followed suit.
***The End***
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