Dragon Tamer
Dragon!Sylus x fem!Reader
So this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now. But I promised I'd have it done for Halloween and by god I did it!!! I hope y'all enjoy 😌
SMUT BELOW THE CUT
Warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, porn with plot, fast burn, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding, breeding kink, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, long tongue, biting, biting kink, marking, stuffing, double vaginal penetration, knotting, cervix penetration, cervix knotting, bruises, anxiety, horns, horn growth, belly bulge, cum inflation, licking, crying, swearing, multiple orgasms, use of Y/N, anatomical inaccuracies for the sake of monster fucking, hemipenes, cloaca, cloaca fingering, scents & smells, references to his dragon myth (which I have not seen yet), cuddling, nuzzling, guns, tranquilizers, pet names, headache & migraines, pain, painkillers, blood, blood and gore, body horror, praise, kissing, cum overflow, standing sex, anal sex fantasies, missionary, doggy style
Word Count: 18,515!!!
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Potential side effects of the procedure:
• Injuries such as bites, scratches, burns, bruising, broken bones
• Soreness
• Incompatible sex organs and/or physiology that lead to failure of pregnancy
• Tearing of vaginal walls
• Allergic reactions
• Damage to internal organs
• Conflicts with religious practices or beliefs
• Lasting psychological symptoms (i.e. paranoia, hallucinations, etc)
If you have any concerns about any of the above, or side effects that are not listed, please ask your moderator for further information.
You can the list once. Twice. A few more times. Each item acts as a checklist of what you would be okay with going wrong.
You gulp, and damn the feral little corner of your mind that fantasized about this in the first place.
And it's that same feral little thing that looks back at the images of the creature chosen for you and decides - Yes. Yes, you can handle the potential side effects.
You unclip the pen from the clipboard and scrawl your consenting signature on the line. The lab tech behind the counter smiles as he takes the paperwork from you and gestures you toward a door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. "Right this way, please."
The facility is repetitive and stark. White ceilings and walls, with metal doors set along maze-like halls. Each door has a label, listing information on the creatures within. You see one for a lycanthrope, a demon, an "inter-dimensional" creature whose accompanying diagram sports an unsettling number of squid-like tentacles... Each monster inside is caged and contained, observed by scientists in lab coats as some soul within does their voluntary duty for science. Their wanton sounds and pained screams follow behind you like an ominous shade.
You're led deep into the maze. Just when you think one turn will be the last, there's always another. The further in you go, the more security there seems to be. Guards lined up at junctions and beside doors, with guns propped up against their shoulders. A frightful vision of things going wrong.
At last, your journey ends in front of another metal door, higher grade than the last. Another sits beside it, though it looks like all the rest. The reinforced one is labeled with large, red letters:
DRAGON.
An array of specifications and a diagram of the same creature you've seen images of just below. You scan it for any scrap of information, but it all flies over your head, far too scientific and nonsense for you to comprehend. The only things you can understand are the warnings: "sharp claws, powerful tail and wings, extreme willingness for violence; keep contained at all times."
The tech smiles at you, but now it's forced through a layer of concern as his eyes, too, flicker over the list. "This is the subject you have been approved for testing with," he says. "The subject is currently secured with reinforced chains that it should not be capable of breaking through."
"Should?" you interrupt in a squeak. You can only imagine what your face must look like, wide-eyed with fear and color draining from your skin.
"There is nothing to worry about," he assures, though it's obviously scripted. "You will be in constant observation through a one-way mirror by our top scientists. There are also two cameras within the room that feed into a monitor for additional observation. This footage will be recorded and kept for later study, as agreed upon in the contract. If you decide to back out of the program or find yourself in any danger, just say 'abort' and you will be removed from the testing chamber promptly. Please repeat the safe word."
Your stomach churns. "Abort..."
"Very good! Remember: you are in good hands here at Xander Sciences. Whenever you're ready."
You stare at the door. Through it lies the creature you've been selected for. To think it's such a threat that, unlike the ones you saw coming in, he has to be contained in a high security cell and chained up inside of that cell.
He could kill you.
Would you be able to call for help before he does?
You could just go home. You could curl up in bed, injury free, reading all the smut you could hope for to fulfill your fantasies. Hell, watch porn to get your fix. Fuck yourself with your own toys and pretend it's the creature from the photos fucking you.
But you don't.
You take a deep breath. Swallow down the anxious nerves crawling up your throat. And nod to the lab tech.
He inputs a code for the door. It slides open, revealing a barren cell, and a giant dragon chained to the wall.
You step inside.
The door closes behind you with a sturdy thunk and all sound outside is shut out. The silence is filled with heavy, shuddering breaths. The dragon's chest rises and falls with each. His head is bowed, brow tight with what seems to be pain, but you know he knows you're there. You can feel it.
You look around. There's no bed or cot or anything. Perhaps they moved him here for this experiment... Or maybe he slept on the cold floor. Curled up in the corner and afraid. Your heart aches at the image it conjures; a great, proud beast, laid low in a prison too small for him.
The walls all look the same, but one is a one-way mirror, on the side where the second door was. You can't see if there's actually anyone in that room. For all you know, you're completely alone. Cameras your only faithful watchers. If something happened...
"Leave..."
You jump at the deep, gravely voice. The dragon's head is lifted, just enough to stare you down with intense red eyes. His white hair is wild and long, reaching down his back. Two jagged horns protrude from his head. Every inch the dragon from the photos.
Shackles at his wrists and ankles chain his limbs to the ceiling and floor. Another around his neck chains him to the wall, keeping him from leaning too far without choking himself. The only parts of him unrestrained are his tail, swaying slowly and knocking into the chains at his feet, and his wings, spread wide but hanging low.
You take another breath.
"My name's Y/N..." you say. Your voice trembles. You take a step forward. "Do you have a name?"
He tilts his head slightly. Studying you. Appraising.
You take another step forward. You can see the sweat dripping down his body, shining under the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. It beads up on his forehead, and slides down the heaving muscles of his chest.
"Are you in pain?" you ask softly. His brow is still furrowed, clawed hands shaking ever so slightly in their cuffs. His claws dig into the metal. They've already broken through several layers of the steel.
He doesn't answer, but he lifts his head up some more. High enough to glare down at you as you take another step forward. You're only a couple feet away now. Close enough to see the different facets of red in his eyes. Ruby and crimson and scarlet, coming together to form jewel-like irises.
He tenses up with you so close. Apprehensive. Waiting. You don't move any closer.
"Can I help?" You grab the hem of your shirt and wrap it over your hand, lifting it to gesture at his skin. He backs up slightly. You don't want to imagine what makes him so scared of a raised hand. "I just want to wipe the sweat away."
He stares at you for a while. You wait for him.
Then, hesitantly, full of distrust, he leans his head forward. Not enough to choke himself, but enough to show his consent. The chains clink with his movements.
You take a half-step forward to reach. He's so tall, you have to get on your toes just to carefully dab at his forehead. Your shirt lifts high enough to expose your stomach, the bottom of your ribcage, the fabric of your bra...
His breath fans hot across your face. Eyes trace over your features, following the shape and slopes and curves. Down your neck. Your chest. The line of your stomach disappearing into your pants. You dab at his cheek and his eyes shoot back up to yours.
"Come here..." he murmurs. He speaks so low, it's like a purr in his chest. It's not as threatening as before. The danger that protected him melting into something softer.
You lower your shirt as you step even closer. Closer. Until your chest is nearly touching him. Until his excess body heat rolls off of him and heats up your own skin. Until he deems you close enough to lower his head beside your own, chain straining behind him.
"Stayrus..."
"What?" you breathe out in confusion. You can only turn your head slightly to look at him. At his eye, so close it seems to glow.
"My name..." He tilts his head, turning his nose toward your neck. He inhales deep. You fail to suppress the shiver that rockets down your spine. "... is Stayrus..."
You breathe him in, too. He smells like smoke and fire, but also like flowers. Like a breeze blowing through grass. "Let me help you, Stayrus."
His eye narrows. "How can you help me...?"
Your mouth is dry. Your heart aches with how fast it races. "I..." You have to look away from his intense stare. Over his shoulder, at the wall, at the chains, at anything other than him. "My body is yours... to- to breed..."
When you look back, his pupil has narrowed into a thin line. It stares hard through you, into your soul. It steals the air from your lungs.
"Mine...?"
It's breathless. Airy with disbelief. He looks for any sign of deception. A lie. A hurt waiting to strike him in his weakened state. But he finds none. You look at him so earnestly. Afraid, but kind.
His pupil dilates. A void pushing away crimson until it's only a sliver of red.
Metal creaks. You can see the chain links grow long as they're stretched with terrifying ease. His hands break free first. Chains snap above. You cover your head on instinct, making yourself smaller to protect yourself, Hands, clawed and sharp, grab you. They wrap firmly around your back, tugging you harshly against his chest.
You feel the next chains break. His body, leaning as it strains against the collar, as he forces his leg forward to take a step. The one around his neck breaks first. With it, he falls forward, bringing you both to the ground. He catches himself on his hands, keeping himself from crushing you. His huge physique is intimidating like this, trapped beneath him.
He stares intently, eagerly, down at you as his tail swings behind him. Powerful muscle and hardened scales rip the chains around his ankles free from the wall with ease. He leans down slow, heaving breaths. Claws bracket your head, caging you in. His wings stretch high overhead, touching the ceiling. Heat radiates off his body. His lips ghost your ear.
"I can hear your heart," he whispers. Like a predator to its prey, he toys with his knew catch, deciding just what he wants to do with you. He ducks his head down to your neck and inhales deeply. Once, twice. "I can smell your fear..."
He chuckles. When he does, it rumbles inside his chest, resonating through your own ribcage.
"And your arousal."
You swallow thickly. All your senses are consumed by him. The sweaty scent of his sweat and the heady smell of his musk. The endless heat that boils off of his skin. The even hotter breaths that fan across your neck. When you look over his shoulder, you see the fluorescent light broken up by the curve of his wings, slowly stretching overhead to form a massive dome around you both, until the only light is what shines through the thin membranes of his wings.
Your heart races wildly. Mouth goes dry as the full reality of what will happen sets in with the force of a train running you over. The safe word the scientist gave you sits at the tip of your tongue...
You slowly turn your head and are met with his red eye once more. His pupil is a sharp slit one moment, and then dilated wide the next as he looks at you. Watches you. Waits to see what you'll do now.
And no matter how scared you are...
You don't say the word.
Your hand trembles as you raise it between your bodies. He catches the movement and tracks it, following it as your fingertips brush lightly over his jaw. He sighs, a strangled sound in his throat, and presses into it, seeking out more of your touch. It's catlike, the way he nuzzles into your palm, lips pulling back to glance his teeth against your skin. They're sharp. Each one, a powerful weapon. But they don't break the skin.
"I'm..." You swallow again as his attention shoots back to you. Rosy reds spread across his cheeks, down his neck. "I'm yours."
His mouth crashes against yours. It's harsh. Desperate. Taking and taking as he bites at your lips and shoves his tongue inside to meet yours. His tongue is longer than you expected; longer than a normal humans. It slides back toward your throat, only pulling back when you gag at the strange sensation.
He puts his whole body into the kiss. Rocking forward on his hands and knees, dropping his hips to grind against yours, against the fabric of your jeans. And the sounds he makes - god, they go straight to your core.
He pulls himself away from your mouth to sit up once more. His brow is furrowed. More sweat dripping down his temples and neck.
He glares at your shirt. Scowls at the barrier your jeans create. It takes him no effort at all to rip the fabric to shreds with his claws, exposing your body to the overheated air within your little dome. The remnants of your shirt, bra and pants lay around you while he drinks you in, scanning his eyes down your body with something you can only describe as reverence.
"Mine," he breathes again, certain. He meets your eyes as he swoops down to latch his mouth to your neck. He leaves wet, open-mouth kisses with reckless abandon, trailing them passionately down your chest. "My Y/N."
Hearing your name in his voice sends a chill down your spine. Emboldened, you tangle your fingers loosely in his hair. He looks up at you from where his mouth sucks your nipple, long tongue circling it, drooling over it. "My Stayrus."
Like flicking a switch, something more feral takes over him. He becomes insatiable, frantic, as he bites down your body, barely giving time to soothe them with a lick. Those fangs pierce you easily, drawing small beads of blood to the surface. But he cares little for them, filled with the absolute need to get to your underwear. He hunches over your body as his claws drag lightly down your sides, slipping into the waistband of your panties, and tearing them apart.
His nose drags along your vulva, breathing in the scent of your skin, all the way to your folds. He nudges them open with his nose, then lolls his tongue out to part them further, slick and hot. You squirm, buck your hips up against his face, against his tongue, as it teases your asshole, your cunt, and your clit.
You're soaking wet. Arousal drips from your pussy onto his lips. He grunts his satisfaction as he licks it up, swallowing it loudly, making out with your cunt to draw out even more. "So fertile," he groans. "Mngh, so sweet." His eyes find yours again, hazy with lust and blown so wide you can barely see the red of his irises. "You really want me to breed you, don't you, pretty thing?"
"Yes," you whine out before you can even think. You nod wildly. Grasp tighter onto his hair, trying to draw him back down. "P-Please, wanna be bred by you."
He follows your guidance. Watching your face, the pointed tip of his tongue teases your dripping entrance. It slips in easily, quickly, jolting your system as you feel it writhing around in your cunt. It burrows deeper and deeper, seemingly unending, lapping at your inner walls and-
"Fuck!" You throw your head back against the hard tile floor. You don't feel the pain of it. Can't think to. All you can think about is the way his tongue prods at your cervix, teasing it in ticklish strokes, trying to slip past and into your womb. It's like nothing you've ever felt before. No dildo could possibly give you this.
His sharp teeth graze lightly over the delicate skin of your cunt as he burrows his face in deeper, trying to reach his tongue even further. Drool slips from the corners of his mouth, combining with your slick and dripping onto the floor. His hands, sharp and dangerous, grab your hips, dragging your body across the floor to pull you impossibly closer to his mouth.
You feel the moment he breaches your cervix and pushes his tongue into your womb. And the next moment, your pussy is spasming around him. Your legs shake, back arches. Sweet cum spills onto his tongue, into his mouth. His tongue withdraws to lap it all up, slurping it down his throat in lewd swallows.
You've never orgasmed so fast before, or at least not in a very long time. This one was powerful, too. Every little lick of his tongue has your body twitching; from overstimulation or a craving for more, you're not sure.
When you can finally open your eyes and look down at him, he's still staring up at you. His cheeks pull back into a smirk. A warning that he's only just begun.
He gives your cunt one last, long lick, before sitting back on his knees. His wings shift with him, always making sure to encase you within.
"Wh-Why are your wings like that?" you ask in a daze, still trying to recover from your high. Your brain is a mush of neurons.
He raises a brow at you. You think for a moment he'll ignore your question. "I don't want anyone else to see you," he answers in a low growl, like the thought alone disturbs him. "You're mine. Those pathetic mortals watching behind the walls don't deserve to see you like this... So perfect."
Your eyes catch onto a twitch in his pants. You never even noticed them; tight leather, hung low on his hips. His face scrunches up when it does. Breath comes in sharp. The bulge strains hard against the leather, trapped with nowhere to go. You lift yourself up into a sit, just enough to reach out. His eyes follow you, but he doesn't hold anymore suspicion. Instead, it's almost curiosity. A consistent question of What will you do?
He gasps softly when your fingertips brush his abs. They're solid, gleaming in the dim light with his sweat. He sits up taller, pressing his body into your touch, welcoming you to feel more. So you do.
You flatten your palm against him to feel up the planes of his chest. His breaths shudder the entire time. Lashes flutter with the determination to keep watching you. You try to imagine all the touches he's felt in his life. Did he ever have the warm embrace of a parent? Or the casual presence of a friend? Certainly nothing warm and loving in this place, or in the process it took to drag him here. You imagine the experience as something out of Jurassic Park, with metal cage after metal cage, electric cattle prods, threats of guns. And even then, what they must have done to chain him up like he was, sedating him and leaving him utterly defenseless. Has he ever known hands that would touch him without hurting him?
Distracted by your thoughts, your hand finds the center of his chest. A bright red crystal that glows softly, protected by an outstretched array of black scales. You delicately ghost your fingers against the crystal. His hand grabs yours, not to stop you, but to press your hand firmly against his chest. His hand is massive over yours, sharp like a gauntlet of claws. But the chestpiece is almost cool to the touch. Soft in the way the still surface of water is.
"Already thinking of killing me, pretty thing?"
You blink, wide-eyed up at him. "I would never kill you!" you defend immediately.
He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at you, like he doesn't quite believe you.
"I won't," you swear again, softer and more emphatic. "I won't hurt you either. Please, trust me, Stayrus."
He stares a moment longer. Seconds tick by, as he remembers how to trust somebody. You're not waiting long before he lowers his head. His hair tickles your face as he presses his forehead to yours, silver strands slipping over his shoulders, and the heady scent of your arousal clinging to his mouth and chin. His eyes soften. Hand relaxes against your own. But his lips quirk up into a smirk again. "I hope you will hurt me," he whispers. It sends shivers down your spine. The look on his face tells you he knows it. "Claim me as your own. Wholly irrevocably. Yours. Just as I hope to claim you as mine."
"How?"
He huffs a quiet chuckle, so at peace it sends your heart aflutter. "So eager."
With a tilt of his head, he kisses you again. Slow, despite the burning heat straining in his pants. You taste yourself on his tongue as it meets yours, but he doesn't linger. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck. He chuckles gently on your pulse like he was possessed to, before kissing lower to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. Light kisses become open-mouthed and wet, testing the area, seeking out the perfect spot, before he finds it.
"This will hurt," he warns. "Are you sure... you want to be mine?"
A flicker of doubt tinges his voice. A fear deeper than pain.
You don't hesitate. "Yes."
He sighs shakily, relieved. Kisses your skin once more. Then, you feel his teeth align against you, and sink in. You cry out and grab onto him, holding his side for support, digging your nails into his skin to distract from your own pain. His fangs break the flesh like biting through an apple, and they only claw deeper into the muscle, ensuring the mark he leaves will stay.
His jaw opens, releasing you, and he pulls back to admire his claim. A pulsing, burning pain thrums at the near-perfect imprint of his teeth in your skin, torn through your flesh. Blood wells up to the surface, flooding the circle of his bite marks. He licks it away, wrapping his arm around your back as you jolt from the sting.
You find yourself wishing you could see it, too.
He leaves a final kiss in the center. Lips trail back up your jaw, soothing you, relishing the fact you are now, truly, his. "Your turn."
You turn your head to catch his lips. He hums, delighted, as he returns the affection, kissing you at the pace you set. Deep, long and seeking. You don't know what possesses you to drag your tongue up his chin, gathering the mostly-dried remnants of your cum on your taste buds. He groans and sucks your tongue into his mouth, lips devouring yours hungrily. You can feel him swallow around your tongue, swallowing down the saliva that pools under his tongue at the reminder of what you taste like. When you pull away, a sinful thread connects your mouths together.
You duck your head to kiss along his neck. His skin tastes salty. His scent, smoke and flowers, is intoxicating. You breathe him in as you make your way down his throat, to the junction of his shoulder. He tilts his head for you, exposing more of himself. Even you know it's an intense act of trust; a predator doesn't expose its throat lightly.
You come to the solid muscle and do your best to find where to bite. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to your choice; you simply decide on the spot that calls to you, that feels right. You stretch your jaw over it, and bite down.
His hand at your spine slides up to the back of your neck, dangerous and controlling, pressing you closer. "Harder," he commands airily.
You obey. Your jaw aches as you clamp down harder, biting down with as much force as you can manage. He holds you there, his hand urging for more, until at last you feel his skin snap as it breaks open. Blood dribbles into your mouth from your canines, the only teeth that successfully broke through when you pull away to look.
As you stare at it, you can see the appeal. The glistening of your spit around the bite. The reddening of his skin. The blood that gathers in the divots. The imprint of your teeth forming a circle, claiming him.
He draws you into another kiss. Harsh and fierce. His mouth demands your attention, biting at your lips and forcing your mouth open with his tongue. Your world tilts until you find yourself laying back on the cold floor once again, his body hot above you. When he grinds his hips down against yours this time, you feel the girth of his bulge, rubbing your slick all on the leather.
Your fingers drop from his side to his pants, equally as eager to free him as he was with your clothes. He releases your hand from his chest, using it to hold himself up instead as your fingers fumble to open his fly. It doesn't help that he can't seem to stop grinding up against you, so damn excited.
With the pop of a button being ripped from fabric, he is freed. He sighs, grateful, as you push the leather off his hips. But when your hands move to stroke his cock, what you feel shocks you. You pull away and he lets you, chuckling as you lift your head to look down and see the massive weight of not just one cock, but two. They sit stacked one on top of the other, protruding from an opening in the scales of his abdomen. They're tinted a beautiful pink, almost the shade of his lips curled around a smirk. Coming to a point, precum drips from both cocks, landing on your stomach in gossamer threads.
You gulp. They're huge! How are they going to fit in you? How are both going to fit in you?! There's no possible way. You can't squeeze all that into your mortal body!
Stayrus sits up slowly, still hunched over you as his hand slips from under your back. Your face heats up, a moan almost slips out, just watching him grab his cocks at the base to guide them as he rubs them against your stomach. When his hips press all the way up to yours, his cock easily reaches past your belly button, almost to your lower ribs. "What's wrong, pretty thing? You seemed so eager before?"
You gape up at him, but your eyes can't seem to stop flickering back to his dicks. "I can't fit you inside of me," you tell him. "I mean - you're huge! A-And two? I really can't-"
"Shh." He leans down to press his forehead to yours again. It stops you from looking anywhere but his pretty red eyes. "I'll be gentle."
"What if you don't fit?" you ask in a frightened whisper. You're not just scared of the pain, of being rend apart by his cocks. Something deeper in your heart is scared, too. Something that doesn't want to be detached from him. That doesn't want this to be your only time together.
He presses a light kiss to your lips. The reassurance it brings soothes the frayed edges of your nerves. "You're still mine."
The fear in your heart eases.
"Tell me if it hurts."
You nod, and he pulls back enough so you can both see what he does. His clawed hand wrap around the bottom cock, and he draws his hips back to make room so he can drag it through your folds. You're still so wet, coating the pointed tip with your sweet arousal and cum. You wrap your arms under his, holding onto his shoulders to brace yourself as he lines himself up.
It glides in easy at first. The first inch or so stretches you gently open, about as thick as his tongue when it was at its deepest inside of you. But then he presses further and you feel your body trying to welcome him in.
You whimper, pressing your face against his neck. He stops, waiting. You can feel the heat of his precum as it drips into your cunt. The second cock twitches against your clit, slapping it gently. "K-Keep going."
Slowly, he pushes a little deeper. Stops when you squirm in discomfort. Then pushes more in at your go-ahead. Again and again. He sinks in inch by inch, slowly, so slowly, until you feel the tip press against your cervix. Your knees bracket his hips, squeezing him as you peek between your bodies. There's still some left unsheathed, unable to fit inside of you.
He doesn't let this stop him, however. He presses in another inch, pressing your cervix back. You gasp against him. "It won't fit anymore," you try to tell him. He grunts and hooks his arms under your knees, pressing them back against your chest as another inch pushes you. You release a broken moan into his neck, feeling as your body makes room for him to fit, as he bullies your cunt open into accepting all of him. It feels like too much, like you're too full - but it feels so damn good. Like you're finally full for the first time ever.
When he stops, you force your eyes open to look down at your bodies. At the prominent bulge underneath your skin, pressing up against the second cock leaking lazily onto you. It stops just past your navel, and moves with Stayrus as he pulls slowly out of you. You can't help writhing, moaning at the impossible sight. With only the tip still inside of you, you feel so empty. Incomplete. And then he pushes in, and you feel whole.
You hug him tightly, drawing his hulking figure down against your chest and your stretched-open legs. "Don't stop," you beg.
A deep growl rumbles low in his throat. He cages you in with pleasure, burying his face into your neck where he laves your skin with kisses and little bites. The sound is obscene as he pulls out again. Slick, sticky, wet. And when he shoves his cock back in, it's even louder, capped off with the slap of his skin meeting yours. He picks up the pace quickly. You're cumming again after only a few thrusts.
"Fuck, Stayrus!" You can't help it; your nails dig into him, clawing at the soft skin around his scales. Your cunt squeezes so tight around him. It tries to desperately to draw him in deeper, to urge him to cum with you. Unsuccessfully, and you're glad for it. Glad to have him continue to fuck you through the dizzy haze of euphoria.
He sucks hard behind your ear, eager to leave another mark on you. "You want to be filled with my seed so desperately, don't you?" his voice rumbles in his throat. You nod blindly, thighs shaking and breaths catching as your pussy begs for more. "Carry my young in your womb?" He punctuates his question with a harsh thrust that knocks the wind out of your lungs.
"Y-Yes! Yes, I want - want to have your babies. Wanna- fuck! Wanna be bred by you- ah!"
With his wings shielding you from view, the air around you grows unbearably hot. You're drenched in sweat. Each inhale burns your lungs; exhales burn your lips. But you're glad for it. You can just imagine what this experience would have been like without it: a secret number of scientists watching you awkwardly fuck yourself on him while he's tied up to the wall. Some of them would probably sneak a recording of it to jack off to later, getting off to this one-in-a-lifetime show you put on for them. Even still, the cameras in the room are saving all of this footage to review later; you're glad they won't see much.
But right now, they're the furthest thing from your mind. They can't watch anything other than the stretched skin of Stayrus's wings and his body moving with his thrusts. That thought turns you on; you really are all his to enjoy.
He sits up. Claws dig into your thighs at the back of your knees as he presses you into a deeper mating press. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, pupils blown. Something feral takes over him as he becomes single-minded in rutting into you, splitting you open on his cock. Sweat drips from his forehead and chest down onto your folded body. Slides down your stomach to pool between your breasts. Down your neck to soak into the scraps of fabric on the floor.
You feel something grow at the base of his dick. Round and bulbous, it pounds against your hole desperately, determined to fit at all costs.
With a deep growl, his hips stop to push down hard against yours. The knot pressing against your cunt, but you're too damn tight to let it in. Stayrus bares his teeth, presses your legs further into the ground, and shoves his knot harder against you. It's too fucking much. You cry out as the tip of his cock forces its way through your cervix and into your womb as his knot finally forces its way into you. Tears fall from your eyes; it's too much. It stings. Burns with the stretch.
Then a hot flood of cum pours into you, filling every last inch of your womb. His cock twitches, his wings shudder, as rope after rope of semen pours into you. So much. So fucking much. But with his knot plugging you, it has nowhere to go, forced to find and make any space it can, until your belly is bulging even more.
You don't know how long he fills you for. How long he stays, pressing down on you, plugging you up as he makes sure his seed takes. All you know is the way you claw at his arms, uselessly scratching at dark scales and tan skin to keep your mind from floating off entirely. Gasps, whines and whimpers break from your lips, as you just try to catch your breath and fight through the ache. When he leans down to drag his hot, slick tongue along your cheek, licking up a trail of tears, you feel like he's squeezing the air from your lungs.
And then he lifts his weight. Panting, he tugs his knot free from your cunt and watches the way your hole stays stretched open, pulsing around nothing. His hands leave your knees. Sharp claws guide around your thighs, lifting you from your folded position to drape your legs over his shoulders. He kisses your sensitive folds and aching clit. Licks up the dribble of cum already starting to leak out. Then his tongue glides in, smooth as silk, reaching all the way through to your womb.
Your head cranes against the floor at an awkward angle, but you can see his hair and horns past the bulge in your stomach. Through the blur of tears, you see the dip of his head as he curls his tongue around to guide his own spend into his mouth. He slurps it up with a grunt, humming at the way your juices combined into the sweetest ambrosia.
He pulls away, still panting, and lays you more comfortably on the floor, though he keeps your ass in his lap, legs around his hips. His cocks, one covered in white, creamy cum, rest heavy on your stomach again. He's addicted to the sight.
"You mortals are so fragile," he mumbles. He traces a claw gently over your belly. You shiver, naturally flinching away from the ticklish sensation. "You can't even bear all my seed."
You watch as he lays his hand flat over the bulge. Then, he pushes down.
A gush of cum spills from your cunt onto his lap. You feel like a balloon losing water. It pours so hot out of you, forming an obscene puddle on the floor, sticky and slick, clinging to his and your skin. You whine at how empty you feel.
He smirks, amused. "Already addicted to me? Good. Let it be a reminder who you belong to."
His hands slide underneath your body, lifting you up to sit fully in his lap, hugging you close to his chest. It's so hot in here you want to push him away to find something cold. But your head lands on his shoulder, nose brushing his throat, and you can't find the strength. He brushes his nose against your temple, then your cheek.
"My poor little human..."
Three loud bangs thud against the metal door. You feel him tense up around you, holding you tighter against him. His wings break apart the protective dome to wrap around you, hiding you from view while allowing him to glare over your shoulder at the door as it slams open.
Five heavily armored guards fill the room, with guns raised and aimed at you. Or, rather, the dragon protecting you. You instinctively huddle impossibly closer to him, hiding your exposed body from the black reflective glass of their helmets. Stayrus bares his teeth, sharp fangs glistening with spit, a low growl rumbling in his chest and throat.
"Release her," one of them barks. He stands right in front of the door, blocking Stayrus from escaping, if he even could with his pants down at his knees. He cocks his gun. The rest follow suit, surrounding you with the click-clunk of their weapons. Wings raise up higher around you.
"You have until the count of three to release her."
"Stayrus, I'll be okay," you whisper to him. His head angles slightly your way, you're only way of knowing he's actually listening to you. His attention is still focused on all the guards. His tail scrapes along the floor, grating, warning.
"One."
You withdraw your arms from around him. He holds you tighter.
"Two."
"Stayrus, please," you tell him more urgently.
His pupils are sharpened slits.
"Three."
You cry out, ducking your head down, as shots ring out around you. They're not the typical booming bang of a rifle, but they're still loud, firing off one tranquilizing dart each into his back, wings, and neck. That last one, you hear the hitch in his breath when it meets its mark. Feel the way his arms loosen and how he fights to keep holding on. When you lift your head, you see the heavy flutter of his eyelids.
They don't wait for him to be unconscious. Two guards pull his wings apart and rip his arms away from you. Grab you with leather gloves, exposing you to the cool air as they steal you from him. He tries to reach you. Tries to grab you. But he only ends up toppling forward, crashing into the ground. As you're pulled out of the room, you can't tear your eyes from him.
"Y/N..." he breathes, nearly whimpers, as you're pulled down the hall and out of sight.
-
"You got a lot of nasty bites." The nurse winces as she leans in close to your neck. "Especially this one. Unfortunately, it will likely scar."
Good, your mind immediately responds, but you bite your tongue before it can slip out.
You clear your throat, pulling the nurse's attention from your neck. "Will I be able to see him again?"
She blinks at you in surprise. "You want to go back in there?"
You nod slowly. "Yes...? Is that... strange?"
"It's, hah, it's definitely not common," she says instead. She peters about, retrieving gauze and medical tape from the cupboards. "The last time a volunteer wanted to go back in with their chosen specimen, it was because she'd been infected with some sort of brain parasite planted there by the creature. Think of it like those bugs that get 'mind controlled' and feel compelled to do things outside of their natural instincts."
She cleans the claiming mark with alcohol on a wipe. You hiss at the sting, though it's nothing compared to the original bite. She smiles apologetically as she covers it with a square of gauze and tapes it secure.
"Was she... okay?"
"Hm? Oh! Oh, hun, don't worry yourself too much about that!" She quiet laugh she lets out is strained at best. You try to imagine what could have happened to have this nurse shutting up so fast about it.
You don't think you're infected with any parasite or fungus or other mind-altering thing. Yet your body feels drawn to him. Aches to be near him again.
You cross your legs, pull the robe tighter around yourself, just thinking of being fucked by him again...
"You may be sore for a couple days," the nurse says, scribbling on a clipboard, "but it doesn't look like anything's torn or damaged outside of the scratches and bites. I'm going to send you home with an ointment that I want you to put on those every day - or night, whichever you prefer - until the tube is empty. If you need something stronger than over-the-counter pain meds, call and I can prescribe something a bit stronger. Is there anything else before I send you off?"
"Will he be okay?"
She blinks at you again, but she recovers faster this time, offering a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine, hun, I promise." She pauses a moment, then sighs softly. "Look, if you really want to see him again, I can put in a permission to have you come back in a week to 'try again'. But it's not a promise you'll be allowed to; they were really worried when he broke his chains and hid you from view like that. It's a wonder they waited as long as they did to get you."
Your heart swells with excitement. "You'd do that?"
She huffs another laugh, genuine. "Yes, I will. Now stop fretting and get some rest, okay? If anything changes, call. For your sake, I hope to see you again in a week."
You can't fight the smile that stretches your lips as you hop down from the exam table. All Stayrus left you were your shoes. The rest of tour clothes are still in tatters on the cell floor. But even so, walking down the halls with an escort to show you the way, clad only in a robe and your sneakers, you've never felt so thrilled.
-
You wake up the next day absolutely sore and utterly stiff. Your legs and between them hurts the worst. Moving your legs even the slightest bit has you wincing and pausing to catch your breath. When you manage to stumble over to your mirror, it's no wonder why.
All along your body and down your legs are scratches and bites and bruises. Under your knees, you can make out the imprint of his clawed hands holding them open. All down your neck are several bites, trailing down your chest and stomach. You know the deepest of them all sits at the junction of your neck and shoulder. You lift away the medical tape and gauze and reveal it in all its glory: swollen and agitated, sensitive and thrumming with a pulse of its own. You cringe just looking at it... but something else in you is absolutely fascinated by it. You stare at it for longer than you mean to. Trail along the edge of the teeth marks with the lightest touch...
Being back home feels... empty, you think. Your little apartment has always been a little too vacant; never enough knickknacks or furniture to really fill in the space. Now, though, it's too quiet. Getting ready for the day - gathering your clothes, running the water for a shower, brushing your teeth - you find yourself looking over your shoulder and around the room. Looking for someone else to be there.
It's stupid. You know a guy - well, dragon - for one day, and now you can't stop thinking about him. Hell, you'd barely known him for two hours and still asked after him. You're lonely, but surely not that lonely. So much that what should amount to a one night stand has you aching for company...
And yet...
You take some pain relievers, use the prescribed ointment, eat breakfast, and decide to take it easy and laze the day away.
It passes by slowly.
You watch a movie. Read a book. Eat lunch. Nap on the couch. Watch another movie, then a couple episodes of a TV show. Scroll through your socials. Have a "minor" breakdown wondering just how this pregnancy might play out. That spirals on until dinner. And bleeds over into a tub of ice cream that's been in the back of the freezer a little too long.
Dragons are reptiles, right? Kinda? I mean, they have scales like a snake or lizard might. Would you lay an egg? Or, well, his wings were leathery, like a bat's. Maybe it'll be a live birth still... Could you lay an egg? Female reptiles would have eggs, but you don't naturally have those sorts of eggs built into your biology. But maybe something will happen that makes your eggs change into something like a dragon would lay... Or maybe, you think, a little despondently, maybe your physiology is incompatible, like the waver warned about. Maybe this pregnancy won't work. Maybe nothing will form. Maybe something will form and come out already dead.
You scrape at the bottom of the carton for the last bits of ice cream. You don't want to think about it not working out.
"You're still mine."
You really hope he meant it...
You go to bed depressed and anxious, turning everything over too many times in your head, until you feel the beginnings of a headache pressing in at your skull as you slip off to sleep.
-
The headache is still there when you wake up. It throbs. Presses at the top of your skull insistently. Moving at all makes it pound, like a sledgehammer coming down on your head in time with your heartbeat. It's all you can do to get up long enough to take more pain killers and crawl back in bed.
The pain doesn't go away, even with the medicine, though. Doesn't even dim. By mid-morning, it's so bad you start sobbing. You can't help it; it just hurts so fucking bad. That only makes it worse. The choppy supply of oxygen and strain to produce tears makes you dehydrated, and makes the migraine intensify.
By noon, you consider calling an ambulance. You want to scream. The only thing stopping you is the threat of bothering your neighbors. You bite on a pillow, instead. Bite down until your jaw hurts. Until the pain becomes blinding and you pass out, nauseous.
You don't know how long you sleep for. All you know is that when you wake up, it's dark outside.
The pain has, blessedly, dulled to a slow thrumming beat under your scalp. Moving exacerbates it, but not to the point it's debilitating. Your stomach growls like a starved beast. You eat until you feel sick and take another dose of pain killers. You barely have the energy to rub more ointment on your bruises and cuts.
You're not sure if the number you were given has business hours. There's no note saying so, or any indication at all that it might be. So, nearing midnight, you call anyway.
It rings once. Twice. The third ring starts, but it's cut off as the call is finally answered.
"Good evening. This is Xander Sciences, Debbie Parker speaking. Who is this?"
"Oh, um, this is Y/N L/N. I was a volunteer there a couple days ago."
"Oh, right! You were paired up with the dragon specimen. How are you feeling?"
"Well, yesterday was fine. But today I had the worst migraine I've ever had in my entire life. I took something for it when I woke up, but it only got worse and worse, until I guess it got so bad that I passed out."
The woman on the line, the nurse that treated you days ago, makes a sympathetic sound. "You sound like you've been put through the ringer, too, hun. Any other symptoms?"
You shake your head, even though she can't see it, and wince. "No, not that I can think of."
"Okay, well, I'll write a prescription for stronger pain medication for you. If you think you can make it, I would like you to come back to the facility for another check up. I can give you the medicine while you're here, too. I just want to make sure this isn't a side effect of the procedure."
"I think I can do that."
"If not, if things get worse or you don't think you can make the trip, I can always come to you, okay, hun? Just call me again and I'll be right over."
"I will. Thank you."
"Of course, hun! Try to get some rest and I'll see you soon. Bye-bye!"
-
"How are you feeling today?" Debbie asks when she enters the exam room.
Honestly, you feel strange. Like your heart is aching to jump out of your chest and run down the halls until you get to his door. Stayrus's door. The thought of seeing him again almost takes your breath away...
You shake the thought from your head. "I'm not so sore, anymore. And the headache's gone down, but now my head just, like, itches."
"Itches?" She glances over her shoulder as she washes her hands. She dries them off on a couple paper towels before she approaches. Her eyes catch briefly on the bandage at your neck, where the worst bite lay. "Your head itches, you mean?"
"Yeah. Here and here." You point to your head. Offset from the very top, on both sides of your head, are two spots that itch like someone distilled poison ivy and used an eyedropper to drop it onto just those two spots. Even just touching them, you want to scratch. It's a powerful urge. You force your hands back into your lap to stop yourself.
She gets up on her toes and you look down so she can see better. She touches lightly at the spots, moving hair out of the way, beckoning the urge even more without meaning to. "Well, your scalp is irritated in those spots, but I assume that's because you've been itching them." She makes a sound of interest. "Is the headache more concentrated in those spots, too?"
You nod slightly. "Yeah."
"You haven't come into contact with anything that could cause this? Allergies or anything?"
"Nothing that would be like this."
"And nothing touched your head there the other day during the procedure?"
You think for a moment, then shake your head. "No, I don't think so."
She makes another sound. "I can send a sample of the dermis in that area to the lab; see if there's something going on surface-level, but that wouldn't explain the acute headache or the migraine you described having yesterday."
"Nothing like this has happened before?"
"Not in my career," she says. She goes through the drawers beside the sink, opening and closing them smoothly in search of what she's looking for. She plucks out a sealed razor blade and a test tube and sets them on a rolling cart. She pulls it up to the bed and washes her hands again, then slips on some gloves. You watch her open up the razor and settle the tube in the crook of her thumb. You bend down lower for her to reach. "This might hurt a little, sorry."
As she scrapes away some of the top layer of skin, you dig your fingers into the paper and vinyl of the exam table. It hurts at the same time it feels satisfying. Scratching the itch deeper than your nails can reach. It even feels like if she kept going, digging deeper and deeper in, she could finally soothe the source of the itch.
She scrapes the skin on the edge of the tube and fiddles with it until they end up at the bottom, then she stoppers it and writes a label to stick on the side. She throws the razor away in a sharps bin. "In the meantime, while we wait for results back on this, you can try topical anti-itch creams. I would recommend trying not to scratch it as best as you can. Treat it like a really bad mosquito bite." She offers a smile, trying to comfort you through the lingering mysteries. "Anything else bothering you?"
You shake your head.
"Alrighty! I'll go grab your prescription and then you can go home. Call me again at any time if something comes up, hun. I'll answer, I promise."
"Thank you, Debbie."
-
By noon the next day, you can't ignore the itching any longer.
Your nails dig in with a furious passion. They scratch the skin raw. Until it's burning and painful. But it's still not enough. It's like something is inside of you that you need to rip out, by any means possible.
You collapse to the floor, crying, hunched over and screaming at the floor to end your suffering. You can't understand why it hurts so much. Why this is all happening to you.
You could have been scratching for minutes or hours, you're not quite sure, but when you're finally able to breathe again you open your eyes.
Red pools on the floor, creeping toward your knees like slimy fingers. A steady drip drip drip adds to it. Dripping from your head. You tilt your head up, as though you could see the source, and it slithers down your face, down your nose, dripping from the tip and into your lap.
Looking at your hands only confirms your suspicions: you scratched so hard, so violently, that you're bleeding. The relief of the itch being somewhat quelled is overshadowed by the pain that blooms where your nails voraciously dug into your scalp.
You should clean up. Should call Debbie and beg for her to see you today, to give you any semblance of an answer for why this is happening to you. But you're glued in place, frozen staring at your hands and the blood on the floor.
You're terrified. What else will happen? What pain will you be put through? You were prepared for pregnancy and labor pain, but this? This is so far removed from anything you could have imagined happening.
Is this really because you had sex with a dragon...? Of course, there's no way of knowing, is there? You're the guinea pig. The willing little lab rat that gave your body to science.
You're not sure if you regret your decision. Though, even if you did, there's not much you could do.
So, you do all you can do. You haul yourself up to your feet, trying hard not to touch or drip onto anything. You scrub your hands under the kitchen faucet for several minutes. Rinse, soap, scrub, rinse, soap, scrub. Over and over. You dig out the skin from under your nails. Hold your hands up to the light to make sure all the blood really is gone. Then, you duck your head over the sink, under the faucet, and wash away the blood with nice, cold water. You watch is dismay as the water runs red for a while. Then pink. Then clear. One of your towels is sacrificed to carefully dry your head.
You spend just as much time cleaning the blood from the floor. It soaks through so many paper towels. Enough that you're scared you'll have to get another roll. When you're finally able to spray cleaner and scrub up the last of it, there's only a couple sheets left on the cardboard tube.
You consider calling Debbie, but there's not much she can do to help. Instead, you write down what happened and get to improvising a solution. You manage to find an old bandana and tie it over your head, with two lumps of gauze squished underneath. You take a dose of the extra-strength pain medicine prescribed to you, praying it'll stop a pain that hasn't hit yet, and try to distract yourself in any way possible.
This'll all be over soon, you tell yourself, because you can't let yourself believe otherwise.
-
A week after your first visit to the facility, you're returning, with permission from the scientists and a hoodie pulled over your head. You skitter through the parking lot and hurry inside.
The lab tech behind the counter gives you an odd look, but tries to cover it up with a plastered on smile. "Good afternoon! You're a bit early, miss. Would you like to sit and wait a moment while our scientists prepare the specimen?"
That word curdles sour in your ears. Though you've only met him once, to refer to Stayrus as a specimen feels disgusting, in a sense. He's more humanoid than anything else in here, and deeply intelligent and knowledgeable. He's sentient. Not an experiment...
But, here, he is just that.
You shake your head. "Um, I was hoping to speak with Dr. Parker."
"Miss L/N!" You turn to the door leading into the building. Debbie is just coming out, clipboard in hand and a beaming smile on her face. "I'm glad you could make it back."
"Do you have a minute?"
"For you, hun, I have as many as you need. Come on back!" She holds the door open for you and smiles at the tech. "I'll escort her to the room when everything's ready."
With no protests from them, you follow Debbie through the familiar halls to her exam room. Your heart is tangled in your stomach. You don't even sit on the table; as soon as the door shuts you turn to her and pull your hood down.
"Oh my!" she gasps, staring wide-eyed at your head.
Two horns sprout from your skull, curving and jagged, black as obsidian. They match Stayrus's to a T. They grew in quickly after you broke through your skin, like being welcomed through a door. You were surprised when they didn't hurt growing in; you'd woken up one morning, looked in the mirror, and nearly screamed. They've even grown a bit more since then. You've been relegated to hiding away in your apartment, afraid to be seen by anybody.
You tell her as much in a dump of words, breathy with panic and fear.
She gets you a tiny cup of water and ushers you to the table to sit down. "Okay, hun, just breathe. You're alright. We'll figure this out together, okay?"
Your hands tremble as you take a sip. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"
"Not... that I recall."
"Did the tests come back with anything?"
"Nothing to suggest growing pains," she huffs. She gently tilts your head down and feels the hard texture of the horns. She traces them down to the base, to your still-sensitive scalp, and apologizes quickly when you flinch away. "We don't know much about dragons. It's possible this is a part of their reproductive behaviors or something biologically that changed your DNA somehow. But you haven't had any other side effects, have you?"
You shake your head. "Just these," you mutter, gesturing at them. You frown up at her. "But, does this mean I could change even more?"
She sighs, meeting your gaze with sympathy. "It's possible. We just don't know."
You stare down at your hands. At the water trembling in the cup. You've thought about it over and over the last few days, about what else could change. About what else could grow. Wings, a tail, scales. Not to say anything of your internal organs. Would your reproductive system shift and change to accommodate a dragon's offspring? Will your organs shift and mold into something new? Will you still even be human? Will your family still recognize you? Would they still welcome you? Will these scientists even let you live a normal life after this? After you've done what you volunteered to do, could you ever go back to normalcy?
There's a few knocks at the door. "Dragon's ready!" calls a voice from the other side.
Your whole body tenses up. Your emotions are warring inside of you. Excitement and uncertainty, churning your stomach until you're nauseous, and spinning in your head until you're dizzy.
Debbie sets a kind hand on your arm. "Take your time."
You sit there for a few more minutes. Her thumb rubs soothing circles through the fabric of your hoodie. You drink the last of your water. "Can I... borrow another robe?"
She pats your arm and heads over to some cabinets up on the wall. She sifts through until she finds one in your size, and sets it beside you on the table. "You can leave your clothes in the chair. I'll make sure no one else comes in here and messes with them. You already lost one good set," she jokes lightly.
You crack a smile.
The door closes behind her with a soft ker-thunk. The paper underneath you crinkles too loudly as you stand up. Fabric rustles, feet shuffle - every little sound, a countdown to seeing him again.
You fold your pants (tucking your underwear inside) and lay them on the seat. You struggle to pull the hoodie over your head, and then your shirt, and thank god your bra had a clasp. Each item gets folded and placed on the chair.
You shiver in the chill of the exam room. It's too clean, too distant. The only touch of Debbie is the framed puzzle on the wall. You're not even sure if she built it, or if the facility bought it to hang up. You slip the robe on.
Your heart won't settle down. Just knowing you're about to see Stayrus again has it racing uncontrollably, until it hurts like an ache under your sternum. Not only that, the heat between your legs anticipates your reunion, too. You squeeze your thighs together to quell the growing want, the burning need. You pray you don't drip down the halls.
With one last breath to try - and fail - to calm your nerves, you open the door. Debbie walks you down to his cell.
You haven't heard anything about what's happened to him over the course of this week. After he was tranquilized, you have to wonder just what they did with him. If they had to move him to another room to fix the shackles he broke, or rushed in with pre-built replacements to quickly install them before he woke up. If they bothered to preserve his dignity by ignoring his exposed bits, or if they studied them while he was unconscious... You shiver at that thought, subconsciously scowling. You hope they didn't take advantage of him like that. And you hope he's okay.
The door is almost the same. The only difference is in the information it presents. There's a blurb on mating behaviors observed (to the best of their abilities) through the mirror and the cameras, as well as a line detailing that further results are waiting to be received, which you suppose means if the mating worked or not.
Debbie rubs your back. "Are you ready, hun?"
He's just on the other side of the door...
You nod.
She inputs a code and the door slides open.
Your breath catches in your throat.
His head shoots up, eyes narrowing in on the intruder. But the moment they land on you, his entire demeanor changes. His head perks up further, tail swishes back and forth across the floor, pupils dilate into big disks. They keep flicking up to your head, to your horns, utterly entranced by their existence.
You don't hesitate. You step in quickly, right up to him. He's shackled, as before, but the cuffs are different this time. The door closes behind you, though you don't process the sound, and you look to the mirror wall, searching hopefully in the reflection. "Can you open the cuffs?"
For a moment, nothing happens. Your ears feel heightened to the sound of his breathing. Heavy and excited, less than a foot away. It feels like being home.
And then, a soft hiss and a click. The shackles at his ankles, neck, and wrists release, and he's on you in the blink of an eye.
His hands cradle your face, body hunching over you to lower his face to yours, his wings stretching out and shuddering happily. "You're back," he breathes, disbelieving. "Tell me this isn't a dream."
You smile up at him; you can't fight it. "It's real," you whisper back. Your hands reach between his to hold his face in return. Hard scales and soft skin. The feeling of him. How could you ever have been nervous to see him again? "Stayrus..."
His eyes flutter. Forehead presses into yours, noses brushing, as he takes in the sound of your voice curling around his name. "My Y/N..."
He pulls back slightly, then a little more, to look properly at your horns. You almost want to hide away. Cover your head, pretend nothing has changed. It's a stupid thought. One of his hands lift to touch them, as if needed to make sure they're real. They remain solid under his fingers, and he traces along them with fascination. "You've grown horns."
"It... wasn't easy." His fingers touch the base, right where it meets your scalp, and you flinch away with a hiss. He immediately pull his hand back. It hovers in the air, afraid to touch you again. "The second day was the worst. My head hurt so bad, I thought I was going to explode." You tilt your head, welcoming his touch again. He hesitates, but soon his fingers are dancing along the rough scales of your new horns. "And then the itching started and I- I literally scratched until I was bleeding. It felt like something was under my skin and I needed to dig it out. And, well, I guess I did."
His lips quirk into a soft smirk. His thumb brushes over your cheek. "And you're still standing. My strong little human."
Your heart flutters at the affection bleeding from his words. Pride. Adoration.
He leans down again. You watch, heart jumping into your throat, as he closes the distance between you both. You think about what his kiss had felt like before. The way his lips pressed and teeth tugged. The way his tongue delved into you, claimed you.
He traces his nose along your cheek, opposite of his hand. Breathes you in deeply. "You smell different today," he murmurs lowly.
"What do you mean?"
"You smell..." He takes another deep breath, nosing just in front of your ear. His lips brush your jaw. "Like flowers."
"I... put some perfume on before I came here," you admit.
He shakes his head slightly. Dips his head lower to nose at your throat, over the spot you spritzed your perfume this morning. "I recognize this smell." He traces back up to your cheek, sighing against your skin. "This one is new."
You wait, watching him, wondering if this apparent new smell is a good thing. You can see, too, the way his chest expands so wide with every inhale, like he's trying to breathe you in so deeply. And you can smell him; the same smoke and flowers from before, only the smoke seems less pungent this time.
Suddenly, his tongue lolls out and drags hot and wet across your cheek, licking you like a dog greeting its owner. Then his teeth catch the plush skin, nibbling gently, careful not to break through. You can feel his smirk when he lets go. "I smell another familiar scent, too," he teases in a whisper.
His hand drifts from your head down the length of your spine, hovering, ghosting along the fabric of the robe. Your pulse throbs between your legs, as his wing lifts to block the mirror-window and his hand hitches up the hem to brush his knuckles against your inner-thigh, centimeters away from your pussy. Your fingers slide back into his hair. Tangle tightly within the strands to pull him closer.
"I dreamt of this," he purrs. His teeth nip at your earlobe. Then behind your ear. Down the side of your throat. His fingers urge your legs further apart, shifting your stance so he can cup your heat in his scaled palm. Your arousal drips onto him. You whimper in his ear, gasping at every little touch.
He nudges the collar of the robe away, dislodging it more and more from your shoulder as he continues his path down. "Of seeing you again. Smelling you, tasting you... Breeding you."
The word alone sends shivers down your spine. His fingers, rough and cold, press along your slit. Your hips buck against your will, seeking more.
"Did you?"
"Yes," you moan airily. His lips brush against the mark he left on you. Kiss the skin that's started to heal and scab over. You press your face into his shoulder, finding your own mark as easily as breathing, nuzzling at it. A low rumble builds in his chest. His tongue slips out to lick at the bite. "I-I was worried. That you wouldn't still want me..."
He scoffs, drawing back. His hand at your cheek guides you to meet his eyes. Intense ruby irises stare straight into your soul. "Why would you think such a thing?"
"Because... I'm scared..." His brow furrows. You swallow. The more you speak, the more panic sets in. Tears prick at your eyes. "If I'm growing horns, what else will change? Is my body even suitable for carrying your babies? Will my body have to change even more so it can? I just- It's all so scary, Stayrus. And... And if I can't... If... I can't..."
He sighs softly. It's not dismissive or disappointed; it's embracing your fears and taking them on himself. He kisses your forehead delicately. "My poor human... You've been tearing yourself apart all week, haven't you?"
You close your eyes and nod pathetically.
"I told you once before, but I will repeat it as many times as I must until you believe my words to be true: You will always be mine, whether you bear my children or not." He lowers his head to press a kiss to the mark at your neck. "My heart, my body, my soul belongs to you. You're mine. Come what may, nothing will change that."
His lips brush your cheek, then the corner of your eye, stealing away your fear and anxiety. You breathe him in. His presence, his heat, his musk. The slight breeze of leathery wings coming around you like an extra large hug. The patience of his hand still between your legs.
You take a breath and open glossy eyes to look at him. "I want to... I want to have your children, if I can..."
His pupils sharpen briefly, then relax once more. His lips draw into a fanged grin. "I would enjoy nothing more than trying my damnedest to ensure you do."
His hand curls into your folds, coaxing out the last of your worries in a long moan from your throat. He captures your mouth, swallowing up the sound eagerly, pressing his tongue past your lips to taste you like he's dreamed of for this last week.
You drag one hand down the planes of his chest. Heat radiates off him in waves, though not as intensely as it did the first time you met. Sweat hasn't yet had a chance to build up on his skin. It's soft under your fingers. Smooth. Brushing against the crystal at his heart makes him purr, low and rumbling in the back of his throat. You caress the facets. Trace the soft edges and the rough scales holding it in place. At the same time, his fingers trace your own jewel, parting your folds to press slow circles into your clit. Your hips roll into his motions, encouraging him further.
His wings come up around you completely. No longer just hiding you from the one-way mirror, but the cameras in the corners, too. Encasing you in your own private bubble of dim light and growing heat. His hand drops from your face to tug open your robe. Claws tug at the sash until it comes undone. Push the fabric off your shoulders until it slips down your arms and to the floor, puddling around your feet.
He pulls back for just a second to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. All the lingering marks of your last coupling that litter your shoulders and neck. The round of your chest and curves of your hips. The brief glimpse of his fingers peeking out between your legs. He comes back hungrier, greedier. Tugging at your lips with his teeth. Licking farther back into your mouth, down into your throat, drawing back only at the threat of making you gag. "Mine..." he gasps out in between kisses. "My pretty little mate..."
That word makes your head spin. Makes your pussy ache more than his fingers teasing you. Makes your soul feel as one with his.
You grab eagerly at his pants. Let go of his hair to further aid your hasty work on opening them. The button pops open, the fly releases, and his waistband loosens around his hips. Unlike the first time, though, there aren't any cocks pressing up against the leather, or springing out freely, released from their confines. You pull away to look, tracing your fingers where they'd once been.
He sighs shakily, breath hitching. The lighter your touch is, the more affected he seems to be, retaliating by pressing harder against your clit. "Do you mean to tease me?" he asks in a hushed whisper.
You shake your head. "Where are your, um..."
He chuckles. "Don't get shy on me now, pretty thing." He grabs your wrist and guides your fingers over an array of scales at his abdomen. They feel softer than the rest that litter his body. Pressing down on it elicits a throaty groan. "Right there... Mngh, yes..."
His eyes flutter shut against his will. Head tips back, exposing his throat to you as he shudders from being touched in so sensitive a place.
He's beautiful like this. The imposing, intimidating beast turned docile and tame by your hand. Even when your lips touch his throat and he flinches, he only leans further into you, rolling his hips against your fingers. You feel the scales begin to part and open up. As your mouth traces and sucks at his skin, you rely on your fingers to translate what's happening.
From the opening, the round-point ends of his cocks begin to protrude. They twitch when you touch them, hot and smooth. Experimentally, you delve your middle two fingers into the hole, between his dicks. Stayrus mewls into the air. Swears in a strange language under his breath as he forces your fingers deeper into the opening.
"N-Never," he stammers, words breaking half-formed. "Never felt this- before." You curl your fingers up, tracing the heavy vein of his upper-cock, still tucked inside. It twitches, sensitive, and dribbles warm precum onto your wrist. They ease out more and more, unsheathing themselves, hardening and slapping up against his stomach and your arm.
You wrap your hand around his upper cock. Your fingers don't reach all the way around. He growls, the sound vibrating in his throat and against your mouth, and suddenly pulls his hand from your legs. You whine involuntarily at the missing friction.
Bending down until he can grab the back of your thighs, he hefts you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and attacking your throat with bites and licks. "Need to be inside you..." he groans. His cocks stand hardened between your bodies, drooling on your stomach as he grinds them helplessly against your soft skin. "Missed you too much, pretty thing."
Your heart races excitedly as you guide them between your legs. The upper cock settles between your folds, caressing them back and forth, coating itself in your arousal. It feels so good. You wrap one arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Grab onto one of his horns for support your the other hand. He follows your hold easily, tilting his head with the slightest tug, though he refuses to remove his mouth from your throat.
"S-Slowly," you remind him as he angles his hips until his cockhead catches on your entrance. Your cunt is already clenching around nothing, just feeling the tip nudging inside.
It feels like time slows down as he lowers you onto his cock. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs feeling the pressure of him trying to press inside. The steady insistence of his cock begging to fuck you. Your pussy opening up more and more to him, until the tip slips in.
You tug his hair tighter. He groans at the feeling, mouthing at his claim on your neck. "So tight... Mnh, tell me when, beloved."
The new pet name sends shivers down your spine. You remind yourself how to breathe. Will your cunt to loosen around him. The air within his wings is already becoming stifling. A slight burst of fresh air comes in from the bottom, cool and welcome, but it is fleeting, overwhelmed by both of your hot breaths panting with restraint.
Glistening, shimmering wetness pours from your cunt down the shaft of his cock. You're dripping with need. Desperate to feel him sheathed completely inside you again. You rock your hips experimentally and he slips in a little further.
As his cock slips deeper, both of you working in quiet tandem to stretch your pussy open, his second dick nudges at your asshole, tip catching on it as he sinks an inch deeper, before jolting free and following the cleft of your ass. Your mind goes fuzzy imagining what it would be like to have him fuck you in both holes at the same time. One cock pressing up against your cervix as the other reaches deep in your guts. What it would feel like to have him fill you completely, cum stretching your belly to its limits, emulating what you'll look like carrying his children, before it spills out, pouring from your ass and your cunt. Imagining this, he slips the rest of the way in easily.
His cock presses your cervix back, peeking into the ring of nerves and into your womb. Your stomach bulges in the front, brushing up against his as you pull yourself closer. He sighs shuddered breaths against your skin. It's a battle of restraint to keep himself from hurting you. His claws tighten around your thighs. The sharp points of his nails pressing into the plush tissue just enough to create divots.
It takes a moment to adjust to his size again. The sheer girth of him. The depths he reaches so effortlessly. A satisfied purring sounds emanates from him. It rolls in his chest, rumbling and content as he nuzzles into your pulse. "I can't wait," he whispers, "to see you swollen with child..." You shiver involuntarily. "With my children... I hope I get the chance to see it."
"You will," you answer immediately. You pull back slightly to look at his face. Pupils blown wide as he stares back up at you, lips pink and glossy, cheeks rosy. So pretty. Your pretty dragon. "I'll make sure of it."
"I'm sure you will."
"I'm yours now, remember? If they try to keep me from you, they'll have hell to pay."
He chuckles softly, the weight of his doubts evaporating away. "A dragon's mate is a dangerous thing. Mmm, I can already picture you tearing them to shreds. Rage burning in your eyes as you demand to see me." His cocks twitch. Hips buck up slightly as he imagines it. You gasp sharply at the feeling. "Fuck, my beautiful mate. All mine."
You drop your forehead to his as his hips start to move. He draws out slowly, experimentally, and thrusts back in. Your breaths mix in heavy pants, eyes lidded as you study each other's face, as he steadily picks up speed. Each thrust comes faster and faster. Each one knocking the wind out of you in wanton moans and needy whines of his name. You're so wet for him; you can hear it as his cock bullies into you, squelching and slapping. His cock fills you so perfectly. Your cunt tightens around him, sucking him in, begging for more and more.
"Yours," you moan. "All yours. Ah, fuck! More~ Please, Stayrus, need you."
He slows down only for a moment, just so he can wrap his arms under your knees, grab onto your ass cheeks, and drag you down onto his cock at the same time that he thrusts up. Stretched so open, it's like he found some way to reach impossibly deeper into you.
You missed this. Missed the feeling of being speared on his monstrous dick. Feeling so complete with him buried to the hilt in your cunt. He tilts his head to lick at your lips, at your mouth parted around your moans. You respond without thinking, meeting his tongue with your own, sucking him into your mouth as you kiss him wildly. It's messy. Drool pools at the corners of your mouth. Lips become coated in spit as you each lick and suck at them. His teeth catch your lips multiple times, biting enough to bruise before letting go and sucking at it, like he's coaxing the bruise to come through faster.
The tip of his other cock catching your asshole more than once. It's too thick, you're too tight, for it to nudge inside. It just catches at the ring of muscle, and ruts along your ass. It's dripping precum, too. Dribbling it onto the floor and your discarded robe. Sticking to your skin and coming away with gossamer threads connecting you together.
You feel that familiar swell of his knot. Not at the base this time, but at the tip. As it grows, it struggles to squeeze past your cervix. Stayrus's restraint snaps further. He pulls nearly out with every thrust, ramming his cock back into you with so much force, when he suddenly slams you down hard, hips hitting each other hard enough to bruise. His cockhead is buried firmly in your womb, the knot forcing its way through your cervix to plug you shut. Even still, his hips rut greedily against yours, unable to pull out far with his knot holding him in place. Each movement grinding his pelvis against your clit, until you're clenching down hard around him.
You scream out his name, toes curling and body trembling. You hold hard onto him as you see stars. He ducks his head, bites down on your shoulder, sharp teeth marring your skin once more as his cock pulses, thick ropes of cum painting your womb once more. This time, it truly has nowhere to go. Heat builds like lava in your cunt. Your walls milking him dry as he stills, pouring his seed into you.
You can feel his cock pulsing. The way it twitches as he cums more and more. You squirm, you can't help it. The way he fills you, it's too much. Your belly swelling. Womb stretching to accommodate it all.
He releases your shoulder to kiss up to your jaw. To kiss away the tears you didn't realize were spilling from your eyes. "Shh, I've got you, beloved," he grunts out, voice choked by his dizzying pleasure. "You can handle it."
Your nails dig into him, holding on for dear life. It's all you can do to remember to breathe.
It takes at least a minute longer before he stops cumming. Your belly presses right up against his abs. He peppers your skin with kisses, to your cheeks and neck and shoulders, trying to distract you from how overwhelming it is, as he waits for his knot to soften. Maybe he takes pity on you, when he tries to pull it out before it's quite ready, hooking onto your cervix and making your body jolt. A moment later and he tries again. This time it pulls free, his cock slips out, and his cum comes spilling after.
It drips onto his cocks and thighs, down to the floor. You hold on helplessly as he lowers himself to his knees and settles you more comfortably on his lap. He unwraps his arms from under your thighs and spreads you gently apart to straddle him, so he can see the way the cum drips out of you. He's entranced by the sight. He can't resist pressing gently at your belly to urge it out faster, pooling on the cold floor. You whimper at the release of pressure, succumbing to the empty feeling that comes with it.
"You take me so well, beloved," he hums, licking away the last of your tears. He lets out a low rumbling purr. "I love filling you up. Watching you try so hard to hold all of it in... Makes me want to keep you full. Keep it from spilling out. Breed you over and over until you're begging me to stop..."
You shiver, trembling at the mere thought of his fantasies. You nuzzle against him mindlessly. "I wouldn't last long," you mutter. "Just once and I feel like I'm going to pop."
He chuckles affectionately. He draws you in closer, holding you close to his chest as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. He's so warm. You sink into him, letting go of his hair and shoulders to wrap around his waist. Your fingers trace his back mindlessly. They run up and down the impression of his spine, from the base of his tail to his wings. His back shifts when you feel his wings, unused to the touch but wholly welcoming it. And his tail swishes back and forth when you touch it, curling when you stroke so delicately along its ridges.
Your mind wanders in the security he brings, in the persistent sound of his purring. You wonder if you'll grow winds and tail, too. Perhaps one but not the other. Or maybe neither at all. Maybe your body is content enough with just horns. Maybe your body wouldn't be able to survive growing anything more.
You wonder which one you'd like more. The way his tail acts, it seems prehensile. Or, at least, it seems he has control over it. You wonder if it would be difficult adapting to a tail. You'd have to learn how to move it, or else it would be flopping everywhere. Plus, all of your pants would have to be altered. That would be quite expensive. Could you just cut holes in the back and be done with it? How would underwear work? Stayrus doesn't seem to wear any, after all.
Wings would be equally as challenging. Stayrus's are massive. If you had two big wings growing out of your back, you'd be hitting doorways and other people left and right, and knocking over everything in your apartment. Again, you'd have to find some way to alter your shirts for them. You couldn't just cut two holes, either, because they wouldn't be able to squeeze through. And flying. Could you fly? Would you want to? Flying can be scary, with your body being put at risk from any fall distance. And you'd have to learn to control two things, not just the one tail.
He mimics you, trailing a finger idly up and down your spine. "Still with me?"
You hum. "Yeah..."
"What's troubling you, treasure?"
You feel giddy at the new nickname. "Not troubling, just pondering."
"Hm. Are you tired?"
"No."
"Are you lying?" He teases your sensitive sides. You jolt away from the ticklish feeling with a giggle.
"No, I'm alright, really."
You pull away, sitting up in his lap to look at him. He seems more at peace this visit. It makes you happy to see. You hope, once day, you can see him fully relaxed, without any reason to be on guard or afraid. You lift a hand to trace underneath his eye. He leans into it, nuzzling his cheek into your palm like a big cat.
"I want to try it..."
He raises a brow. "Try what?"
Your cheeks burn, but your excitement overcomes your anxiety. "Breeding me over and over." His pupils sharpen into slits, eyes widening. "I want... I want both of your dicks inside me."
He scoffs, but his tail is sweeping eagerly across the floor. "You can barely fit one inside of you," he argues, but his pupils are still sharp with desire. "You're just a little human. You'd break if I tried."
"I won't," you insist. You smile sweetly as you grind down on his cocks, lathering your pussy with the cum coating the top one. It twitches up against you. His jaw tenses as he tries to compose himself. "And if it is too much... We can just, do them separately."
His eyes glance down to your laps. He watches, considering it, following the strands of sticky cum that cling to you, the way your body moves and shifts, the way you look at him, turned on and confident.
There is no universe where he would ever refuse.
He grabs one of your horns and tugs your head back, exposing your throat to the flat of his tongue, licking from your collarbones to your jaw. The way he can control you so easily like this - you grind harder down on him, heart stuttering.
"When you came to me, so frightened and timid," he whispers against your skin, lips caressing your jaw with every word, "I never imagined I'd have you making such demands of me." He brushes his teeth against your pulse, teasing the points of his fangs to your ear. They nibble lightly at your lobe. Lips wrap around to suck playfully at the skin before letting go. "I like when you use me, beloved..." he purrs lowly. "And, I think..." He ghosts his lips slowly across your cheek, until they find the corner of your mouth. You feel them pull back in a smirk as he watches - feels - the effect he has on you. "... You like when I use you, too."
There's no denying it. Not with your pussy dripping arousal onto his cocks. Not with your breath stuttering in your throat. Not with your hands clinging tighter onto him.
He kisses you passionately. Not a desperate, needy kiss. Not a slow, delicate kiss. Just a kiss that makes your souls feel entwined. Hearts joined together.
He wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you up with him as he shifts away from the slippery, sticky puddle of cum to a cleaner expanse of floor. When he lets you go, he slides you from his lap to the floor and guides your face to look at him with his hand at your horn. "Get on your knees for me, my treasure."
He releases you and you obey, sitting yourself up on your knees like a puppy waiting for a treat. He chuckles. "Good girl. Now turn around."
You squeeze your thighs together at the praise. You turn around, facing away from him. You can see where his wings come together and block out the outside world.
His clawed hand rests at your shoulder and begins pushing you down, pressing you forward until you have to catch yourself on your hands. Dragging his nails lightly over your skin, he traces the curve of your spine and the eager arch of your back down to your ass. You can feel him part your cheeks to get a better look at you. At the white cum still coating your hole, clenching around nothing. At the mess you've made with your excitement, dripping down your thighs.
"One at a time, beloved," he coos, a reminder that he won't blindly rampage your body for his own taking.
His other hand guides his lower cock to your cunt. You've already been stretched open on the other; he slips in easily, nudging his tip into your warmth. Your slick walls tighten around him right away, eager to have him even deeper.
"You just can't get enough, can you?" He bites his lip, watching without blinking as he sinks deeper and deeper, his cock splitting you open so perfectly. He fully sheathes himself, second cock resting along the crease of your ass as he grinds his hips against yours. "Do you really think you can handle it?"
You nod emphatically. You can just imagine the stretch. The burn as he bullies both of his cocks side by side into your cunt. How full you'll feel as he fucks you. The liquid heat of his cum, twice the amount as before, flooding your womb. "Yes~ Please, Stayrus, please~"
He pulls slowly out, until just the very tip of his cock is resting against you. Then he shifts forward again and you feel it: the head of his top cock pressing at your cunt alongside the other. They don't want to both go in. One pushes the other out of the way naturally, with your pussy being so small compared to his size. One jolts out of the hole and he pulls back again.
Holding them both together in one large hand, he lines them up and tries again. The tips press in without much trouble. But then the rest of the head comes after and you're already being stretched open twice as much as before.
It's so much. The second you flinch or make a sound anywhere near pain, he eases up. He teases you open with gentle, shallow thrusts, only going as deep as he can without hurting you. When you open up a little more, he goes that little bit deeper. You claw at the floor, eyes squeezed shut and mind foggy, ripped in half between pleasure and pain. But little by little, the pain fades until it's mostly pleasure left, and he nudges in deeper to start the process again.
It takes several minutes until he can safely bottom out. But, fuck, you're so glad he did. You're so impossibly full, two cocks now pushing at your cervix, begging to be let into your sweet womb. You can feel every little twitch. Every little shift. Drool dribbles from the corner of your mouth. Thought feels distant the longer you stay there, clenching helplessly around his cocks, eager to feel him move.
He leans down to press kisses to the back of your shoulders. Light, gentle things. Delicate, like he could break you if he's even a little too rough with you. "Are you okay, treasure?" he murmurs to the back of your neck. Your horns arch safely over him, but when he tilts his head forward, they clack together with a pleasant sound.
You nod dumbly. "M-Move..." you whimper. "Please..."
He waits a moment longer, ensuring you really are prepared. And then, he pulls out. Long, agonizingly careful. Your body twitches, every sweet spot rubbed against and found by his perfect cocks. You moan, high-pitched and wanton. It makes him shudder overtop you.
He rocks his hips back into you. His dicks nudge up against your cervix. You press back against him, meeting his thrust, begging for more. He groans something so deliciously sinful, nuzzling against your neck as he finally allows himself to let go of some of his concerns. "You're going to be the death of me, beloved," he grunts as he works himself up to a steady pace.
Your body rocks with him. Skin smacks up against his. He's barely started before your pussy is clamping down around him, pulsing with an orgasm that came on so suddenly. You moan loudly, uncaring, practically falling down to your elbows as euphoria floods your mind. He tucks an arm around your throat and across your chest, holding your head up as he leans over you even more. At this angle, he's plowing down into your cunt, working with gravity to ensure he fills you to bursting.
He pants beside your ear, mouthing at your shoulder, neck, cheek - wherever he can reach. His other hand reaches forward. Clawed fingers slip between your own, holding your hand like a lifeline as he speeds up even more.
Your tummy bulges with every thrust. Where one cock left an impression through your skin, two leaves a clear definition, gliding back and forth, making space where there is none. You wish you could see it. See just how obscene it is. A little human, ruined by your dragon. You know nothing else could satisfy you the same way ever again. No toy, no vibrator, no human man could ever push you to the brink of sanity like this, filling you so perfectly, claiming you. Breeding you.
The only thoughts that register anymore are vague and cloudy, but insistent. Hopeful, longing words. Dreams. "I need him with me. I need to have him home. Home. Need him to have a home. Need him. With me. Can't be alone anymore."
Stayrus shushes you softly. He leans his head over your shoulder to kiss the mumbled words from your mouth. "You're not alone anymore, beloved. I've got you."
You kiss him back in pure instinct. His lips are so familiar now. The way they caress yours. The way they open to let you in and devour you.
The pressure that grows around his cocks is familiar, too. The sudden knots that form at the tip of one and the base of the other, hitching his breath and making his thrusts more frantic. You squeeze his hand, whining, pressing back against him. He holds you tighter, his chest firmly against your back as his mouth finds your throat.
The knot at the head of his cock slips into your cervix first. It plants itself firmly in your womb, holding on, refusing to budge. His second cock roughly hits up against the ring of nerves, with nowhere to go. But he keeps rutting into you, unable to pull out too far and trying to press in deeper.
When the knot at the base begins stretching you even wider, you scream. A ragged, broken sound. It's too much. Too much. You can't fit it inside you, it's impossible.
Stayrus growls. His own mind becoming too hellbent on mating you to stop, even as you writhe and squirm. His mouth finds your neck and bites down, hard. His sharp fangs break through your skin without issue. Strong jaw holding you in place, stopping your wriggling so he can finally force his knot into your cunt. It burns, stretching your abused hole so wide. And then it slips in.
Cum floods your pussy. It pours directly into your womb from one cock, and the other releases into the hot channel, unable to slip past your cervix or past the knot plugging you closed.
You gasp, trying to catch your breath. Trying to stay still to avoid the pain of his teeth even as your belly stretches with a growing pressure. Tears fall freely down your cheeks. Your mouth hangs open around silent cries. Eyes squeezed tightly shut.
Each cock pulses, pumping thick ropes of cum into you seemingly endlessly. Your body jolts with each slight twitch, overstimulated and far too sensitive. Legs shake as they hold up your ass, but the way he holds you keeps you from falling.
Gravity works in his favor to draw the cum into your womb, deep into your cunt. Your belly swells. Grows heavy and full of all of him.
You count breaths to distract yourself from the pain. The stretch around his knot throbs with the ache of being pushed past its limits. Your abdomen aches with the stretch of cum filling you. You feel so full. Three full grandmother-approved meals couldn't leave you as full as this.
You're not sure how much time has passed before he finally eases up. His jaw loosens and lets go, and his tongue immediately licks over the new bite to soothe it. His lifts himself from your back, as much as he can without pulling his arm from under your chest, removing his weight from bearing down on top of you. He tries to pull out, but hisses with sensitivity when he's still firmly stuck, knots still swollen and plugging you up.
Your fingers slip limply from between his when he lets go of your hand. It ghosts over the curve of your stomach. His palm, wide and rough, forms itself to the curve of your skin. "Imagine it," he breathes in quiet awe. "How you'll swell with my child. You'll grow even larger than this, won't you." He presses down just barely and your pussy squeezes him, welcomes him deeper, milking him, as another orgasm rushes over you, coaxed from his rumbling voice and gentle touch. He moans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he wills himself not to move, not to hurt you. You let out such beautiful strangled whimpers, clawing at the linoleum floor for any way to ground yourself. "Even like this," he pants with a laugh, "your body is still so eager to be bred. You truly do wish to carry my young."
He sighs. His wings shudder around you. Carefully, he pulls his hips back again, and the stretch returns as his knot works its way out. He nuzzles against you when you whimper and squirm, holding you tightly, until it finally escapes. Dribbles of cum immediately begin leaking from your stretched hole. Another tug, deep within, as the second knot pulls free from your womb. His cocks slip free with ease, soft and spent. Your cunt squeezes around nothing, pushing out the excess cum. It drips obscenely down your stomach and thighs.
"Come here, beloved," he coos. He lifts you gently up onto your trembling knees, further, until you rest heavily against his chest. His arms wind around you, supporting you with gentle caresses, as gravity now works to empty you out onto the floor and his lap. He nuzzles his cheek to yours, tilting his head until your horns are bumping together. "You did so well for me, my precious little human."
You manage to crack your eyes open and watch your stomach deflate back to normal. Some part of your brain screams to stop the flow. To plug your pussy back up to make sure it takes, to ensure you become pregnant. But truly, with how much there was, how much that was flooded directly into your womb, you'd be more surprised if you didn't become pregnant.
Your body screams protests as you try to turn around in his arms. He helps you, wordlessly helping to turn your hips around and scoop you into his lap completely. Your head lands on his shoulder. You breathe in the floral, musky scent of him. He massages your legs as best he can, though a little smirk keeps curling his lips when he feels your muscles twitch from the aftershocks. His wings open up, allowing a cool breeze to chase away the boiling heat that built up beneath them, and your attention is immediately drawn to the one-way mirror.
"Let me stay a bit longer," you plea weakly to your reflection. You think of the first time. Of being ripped away while guards surrounded him with guns, and that sorrowful whisper of your name as he watched you be taken from him. "Please. Let me stay here..."
You don't know if they'll listen. All you can do is curl closer, hold on tighter, and wait for the inevitable. Each second becoming as precious to you as all the diamonds in the world.
He holds you tighter, too. Wraps his wings around you like an extra layer of defense as he rests his head against yours. "They won't let you," he murmurs, bitter and resigned. "I'm too dangerous, and you're too valuable. It's a wonder they let you back in here in the first place..."
You shake your head tiredly. "Like you said, a dragon's mate is a dangerous thing. If they don't..." You yawn, relaxing more and more into him. "Who knows what I'll do..."
His chuckle rumbles through you. "Of course. It's my mistake for ever doubting your seething rage," he teases, nudging your cheek playfully with his knuckle. "Rest, my treasure. I'll keep you safe."
"Promise me something, Stayrus."
He hums, urging you to continue.
"When they come for me, don't resist, okay? I don't want them to hurt you again..."
He's quiet for a moment. Considering your request. You know it's asking a lot; his instincts to protect you are deeply embedded within him, even at the expense of his own safety. But after a while, he sighs and nods. "For you, beloved. I promise."
-
When you walk into the facility, Debbie is there with papers in hand and a broad smile on her face. You don't have to ask. You already know by the way she radiates excitement, rushing to greet you the second your feet have crossed the threshold. She thrusts the papers into your hands.
You skim over the text, but your eyes start burning with tears after the first few words. "Your request has been approved."
You look up at Debbie, trying to find the words to ask if this is real. She's nodding before you can form them. "He's waiting for you now," she breathes in an excited whisper.
Your feet follow the path to his door, and she takes your arm to guide you, supporting you in your rush to see him again. It's been so long since you've seen him face-to-face. After your last visit, you've only been allowed a few minutes to talk, but it's never long enough. Not when your heart aches every second you're apart, yearning to be in his arms again.
It took the scientists half these past months to figure out why you grew horns after mating with Stayrus. Really, it took until one decided to read up on the mythos surrounding dragons and actually talk to Stayrus to see if he could tell them anything. The best conclusion they could come to, however unscientific, was that your souls had been bound together once you agreed to be mates. The bites you left on each other were more than a simple claim to tell others you're taken, but a sort of ritual that entwines yourself on the other's soul.
You feel it stronger than ever now. That burning thing in your chest and mind that calls out to him, missing its other half. That fire that set you on this path of demands and disputes.
The hallways to reach him feel altogether short and long. Each twist and turn seemingly adding years to your journey. Deeper and deeper into the maze until you can finally see the two doors standing side-by-side. A few guards stand along the opposite wall, and the lab tech that first brought you in gives you a barely-concealed dubious look. You wipe your eyes, brushing aside hot tears that just keep pouring down your cheeks.
"For the comfort of the other faculty members in the building as well as the safety of other volunteers, we will have guard escort you off the premises. After which, if the specimen causes any harm to humans, damage to property, and so on, we will be required to take it back into our care until such a time that we are sure it can properly behave and be re-integrated into normal society."
You glare fiercely at him, sniffling. "You'll never see him again."
He nods awkwardly. Debbie jerks her head toward the door. The tech clears his throat and types in the code for the door. It slides open. Your heart soars as you hurry inside.
Stayrus, released from his shackles, rushes to greet you. He hugs you tightly, arms secure around your back, one of his hands cradling your head to the crook of his neck. You tangle your fingers in his soft hair, drag your hand along his solid back. He's so warm. His wings come around you in a giant hug. His tail wraps around your leg, curling around your calf and thigh to keep you there.
He smells like fresh flowers in full bloom. He breathes you in, too, inhaling deeply at your neck. You smell just the same as him. "I missed you so much, beloved." Your tears drip onto his skin at the sweet sound of his voice. He pulls away just enough to kiss them away.
You smile up at him, turning your head to catch his lips in a longing kiss. "I missed you, too," you murmur against his lips. "We both have."
He pulls away slowly. His eyes seem to sparkle as he looks at you, so full of affection, before they trail lower, to your swollen belly. It knocks the breath out of him. Sets him off-balance as he presses his forehead to yours to reorient himself. "You..." He swallows thickly. Trails his hand around from your back to rest feather-light against your stomach. You bring a hand down to press his hand firmer against you, and he sighs shakily. He smiles somberly. "I'm glad I could see you like this..." he says, already mourning the time until you'll have to be parted from him once more.
"Didn't they tell you?"
He raises his eyes to you, brow furrowed in confusion. "Tell me what?"
You cradle his cheek in your palm. He leans into your touch without thought or question. "We're going home."
---
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