On Wings of Passion

by M. D. Grimm

  He cupped Asagoroth’s face again. “There’s no need to rush. We have the rest of our lives. We will fly together.”

  Asagoroth’s expression softened, and he hiked up Roland’s other leg so both wrapped around his waist. He lowered to his knees, and between one heartbeat and the next, impaled Roland with his cock. Roland groaned deeply and set his feet on the gold as Asagoroth cupped his hips, holding him steady. Then Roland moved, bobbing up and down, gripping Asagoroth’s horns, his cock sliding along Asagoroth’s flat stomach. The friction was a delicious counterpoint to the burn and stretch of Asagoroth’s thick cock.

  His wings fluttered over the gold as he spread them wide, realizing Asagoroth purred louder when he did. He certainly liked the look of angels. They panted as Roland rode them both closer to the peak. His ragged breaths scraped out of his lungs, and he tightened his grip on Asagoroth’s horns, needing purchase, or else he might fly off into a thousand pieces. Asagoroth watched him the entire time, his wings also spread and occasionally touching the black feathers, adding yet another point of contact.

  “I love you,” Roland whispered. “Mate. Mine.”

  Asagoroth’s breath caught, and he came without warning, a hot geyser flooding into Roland. It set off his own orgasm, and Roland came hard, squeezing those horns as it washed over him. Asagoroth held him tightly as they trembled, steadily coming down. Still impaled, Roland had no desire to move, overwhelmed with their connection and how well they seemed to fit.

  He opened his eyes and observed the starkness of their coloring. He was a flawless porcelain compared to Asagoroth’s unyielding onyx.

  “My angel,” Asagoroth said, lips brushing his ear.

  Roland smiled and closed his eyes, hugging him close. “My dragon.”

  Asagoroth brushed his thick fingers over his feathers, and Roland shivered. He then realized Asagoroth was still hard and still inside him.

  “Shimmer your wings.”

  Roland smiled and did as he was told before being laid on the gold, limbs heavy. Asagoroth hovered over him, still inside, and began to move. Roland simply held on and enjoyed the ride.

  THERE WAS a heated pool under the temple, and so Roland left Asagoroth soundly sleeping and went in search for it. Now his body was sore for an entirely new reason. Roland smiled, not minding in the least. It didn’t take him long to find the entrance and descend numerous roughly carved stairs, enjoying the glowing bugs covering the walls. It was enough light to see by.

  He groaned in delight when he sank into the water and gave his poor robe a good scrubbing before finally washing his body of the remaining saliva… as well as other things. A faint giggle escaped him as he cleaned himself inside and out before lazily swimming from one side to the other, indulging in a moment alone. Then he simply flipped onto his back and floated, staring up at the high ceiling blanketed in green glowing bugs.

  Asagoroth was insatiable. And playful. And arrogant. Confident, gentle, intelligent, yet oddly simple in some ways, especially in how he viewed others and himself. He didn’t seem as conflicted as Roland felt. It was as if, once making the decision to abandon his campaign, he never second-guessed himself. He just kept moving forward.

  Maybe Roland should take a leaf out of his book and do the same. He’d made his decision, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering.

  Yes, he loved Asagoroth.

  Yes, he was happy with him.

  Did he miss his family? Yes.

  Would they ever accept their relationship? No.

  His choices were unfairly limited, but he was sure he’d made the best decision with the options he had. He’d never felt such passion in his life. Not even what he felt for his art could compare with his feelings for Asagoroth, and that was certainly unexpected.

  If he’d rejected Asagoroth, what would have happened then? He liked to think Asagoroth would have still ended his campaign, but to return to Emphoria, having felt such need and never finding it again? That sounded like a fate worse than death. He’d be among cold, rigid angels for the rest of his life, knowing there was someone out in the cosmos who could trigger his desire and passion. Yeah, torture.

  What if Asagoroth hadn’t ended the campaign?

  What if, what if, what if.

  Roland sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. He’d made his decision. Now he had to live with it. It really shouldn’t be all that difficult considering his body still throbbed pleasantly from not one, not two, but three orgasms in quick succession. Asagoroth’s mouth and hands had caused the third.

  Exhaustion crept over him, and he languidly swam over to the shallow end of the pool and pulled himself up. Going up the stairs was noticeably more difficult than going down, and he panted for breath when he reached the top. He returned to Asagoroth and laid his soaked robe flat, hoping it would dry quickly. He grabbed the blanket and climbed on Asagoroth’s good arm before stretching out and closing his eyes. Only a moment passed before Asagoroth nudged him.

  Roland grunted and squinted.

  Asagoroth gently pushed Roland across his arm and into his palm. Roland curled up under the blanket and closed his eyes again, heat surrounding him in safety and comfort.

  Chapter Ten

  A SHORT time passed as they started putting the temple to rights. They straightened fallen columns, and Asagoroth easily removed stone debris weighing several tons. He also designated a relatively small chamber as a place for growing food Roland could eat. With an ancient spell Roland didn’t know and a few seeds from the Middle Realm, a garden sprouted literally overnight. A beautiful, succulent garden full of his favorites and other fruits and flowers he’d never seen before. It was the most precious gift he’d ever received.

  “What about you?” Roland asked one day. He’d managed to salvage some of his robe and tied it around his waist to at least pretend at modesty and some protection from injury as they moved rubble. It was also easy to remove when they were in the mood for some fun. It didn’t escape his notice, however, that Asagoroth appeared rather, well, sulky when he tied it on. It was quite adorable, actually. He’d never been so desired or felt so desirable.

  When he mentioned having demons deliver new clothes, Asagoroth seemed even more put out.

  Asagoroth looked over from where he’d been attempting to roll a large base of a column from one chamber to the next.

  “What about me what?”

  Roland smirked. “Don’t you eat?”

  Asagoroth snorted. “Yes, of course. Dragons do not need to eat every day as others do. We gorge ourselves on food once every few months. It sustains us unless we are critically injured. Then we need to eat more.”

  “When was the last time you ate?”

  “Before Kurthog attacked me on the Middle Realm.”

  Roland frowned. “That was about two months ago.”

  “I am well, Roland. I will leave when I am in need.” He paused. “I would have you come with me, but it would be dangerous for you.”

  He sounded troubled. Roland walked over and touched his arm. His wounds were nearly completely healed. It was a relief to see the new scales growing in to cover the vulnerable blue skin.

  “Why?” he asked.

  “When dragons feed, we turn feral. Every other creature is a threat, and we attack to protect our kill.” He pressed the tip of his snout to Roland’s stomach. “I do not want to hurt you.”

  Roland smiled and patted him. “You won’t. But you were injured badly. You should go and feed to gain your strength back. I will stay here and continue working. I have some planning to do for the murals I want to paint. It’s better if I’m alone to do that. You know, without you distracting me with your enormity and all.”

  Asagoroth chuckled. “I distract you?”

  Roland rolled his eyes and pulled away. “You know you do.”

  “I am not the one flaunting himself with a teasing bit of cloth.”

  Roland snorted a laugh. “Fair’s fair, dragon.”

  He walked into another chamber, thri
lled at the towering walls. Asagoroth followed.

  “You wish me to leave?”

  Roland didn’t like the tone and turned around. “I want you to be well and healthy. If that means you have to leave me for a time, then I accept that. I will stay here and await your return. Do I want you to leave? Not really. Do I understand you need to leave? Yes. I love you, Asa. You shouldn’t doubt that by now.”

  Asagoroth lowered his head and ruffled Roland’s hair, snorting hot breath on his head. Roland giggled and stroked his hands over Asagoroth’s snout.

  “Then I will leave now. I will return in a day or two.”

  Roland kissed the tip of his snout. “I’ll be right here. But don’t you dare fight another dragon. I don’t want you injured again.”

  Asagoroth regarded him silently before walking out of the chamber. His wing was mostly healed, and he launched into the sky, flying without any visible impairment. Roland watched him go and, for once, saw not the awesome majesty of his form, but remembered his gentle touch, his playful spirit, and his rumbling chuckle.

  He knew it was foolish to try to put a restriction on him. He was a dragon, and dragons fought. Roland just didn’t want to lose what he’d finally found—a partner and companion. A passionate love that gripped him by the throat and refused to let go.

  With a sigh, he turned back and grabbed his bag. He would certainly need more supplies than were in his bag right now. But he had enough charcoal to sketch out a rough outline on at least one wall.

  Roland turned in a circle, in the largest chamber of the temple.

  Where to begin?

  THREE DAYS had passed since Asagoroth’s departure, and Roland turned his worry into art. He began in the chamber with the gold and jewel pile. He had one wall entirely sketched with charcoal. It depicted both of them, though he had to fudge their sizes a bit to get them both in the sketch. Yet Asagoroth’s form still dominated the portrait, his serpentine body curling over Roland’s in a protective manner. They were going to be in a bright blue sky like the one he saw in the Middle Realm. He depicted a mating flight of sorts, one they’d yet to do in real life. He hoped when Asagoroth returned that they would.

  He fingered the scar at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It was still bruised and would continue to be if Asagoroth kept insisting on biting it. Should he bite Asagoroth in return? He found he wasn’t as averse to the idea as he thought he would be.

  Roland backed away from the mural, hovering over the pile of treasure. He flew around, looking at it from different angles, scrutinizing each line. If this was what Asagoroth would see, what they would see, before they went to sleep, it had to be perfect.

  The rumble of thunder and a darkening of the sky rocked Roland’s focus. His heart leapt to his throat as he swerved into a chamber with a massive hole in the ceiling. He popped out and perched on the stony exterior, looking south. He squinted, trying to make out anything beyond the dark storm clouds. It occurred to him this could be another dragon, not Asagoroth. They had powers like his, didn’t they? But Asagoroth said dragons didn’t come here, so….

  Lightning struck within the black and gray, violet streaks that matched Roland’s eyes.

  He grinned.

  Was Asagoroth showing off?

  Wind howled as it crossed the distance between them. It whipped his hair away from his face and pressed the cloth against his groin, outlining his growing erection. He lost a feather or two and folded his wings closely behind his back. He held up a hand to protect his eyes as he watched the darkness cover the sky all around, from above and below, to his left and right. It encircled the temple, enclosing it and him inside its impenetrable force. Instead of fear or anxiety, Roland laughed.

  He really was showing off.

  Violet lightning struck again, as if a physical embodiment of Asagoroth’s will, and the thunder boomed as if it were his roar. His wings were the relentless storm, making Roland the center, the eye of the hurricane. The wind howled louder, nearly pushing him off the temple.

  Roland rolled his eyes and snorted as he untied the robe from his waist. He tossed it down into the temple and then waved his hands.

  “Happy, beast?”

  Lightning cracked nearby, and Roland flinched at the bright light. The black storm closed in, the heat seeping into his bones, but it didn’t suffocate as it had on previous occasions. It was a comforting cloak meant to protect against the elements, or armor to defend against harm.

  Roland turned in a circle, impressed. He’d never really seen the full magnitude of Asagoroth’s power, and he was certain there was still more to give. It was magnificent. A force of nature one didn’t fight but merely survived.

  No wonder dragons didn’t use their powers against each other. Now he truly understood. If two beasts collided with such force at their disposal, it would shatter the cosmos.

  “Show yourself, Asa!” he said into the black, yelling over the wind. “And if you want that mating flight, you’ll have to lower the wind. I’ll fly off into the nothingness if you aren’t careful!”

  The wind diminished to a murmur as the black remained and the lightning and thunder still cracked and boomed. Out of the corner of his eye, a shiny pair of blue eyes appeared. Stripes of white-and-blue flame danced in the dark surrounding him, indicating Asagoroth’s wings partly encircled him. Had he grown bigger? Was that possible?

  Roland looked over his shoulder and smirked. Asagoroth’s gaze was scorching, the need naked and urgent. A thrill went through Roland’s body, and his cock jumped to life, eager for everything Asagoroth’s look promised.

  “You willing to fight for it?” Roland asked.

  Asagoroth growled. To anyone else it would be a menacing and bowel-loosening sound. For Roland it was excitement and anticipation. Asagoroth got off on being challenged, and Roland enjoyed making him work for a chance at his ass.

  He dove off the temple and had only taken one flap when the darkness swooped in and covered all the light. He was now flying blind in the warm darkness, and he laughed.

  “No fair, dragon! Not fair at all.”

  A chuckle rumbled through the darkness. Silence descended as the thunder and lightning ceased. The wind was subtle, a sigh instead of a howl. Roland closed his eyes and spun around, using his other senses to direct him. He felt Asagoroth move in the darkness as they played a very odd game of hide-and-seek. Though he didn’t for a second assume Asagoroth didn’t know where he was. This was his darkness, after all. He probably sensed every move Roland made, and wasn’t that arousing?

  Roland chose a direction and flew. He didn’t go fast since he didn’t want to crash into the temple. When he perceived something behind him, he dove. Air swirled over him and he wondered if Asagoroth had tried to grab him.

  He’d barely pulled out of the dive when he collided with something.

  “Omph!”

  The scales showed him what, and the size of them showed him where. His tail.

  “Careful,” Asagoroth said somewhere nearby. “You would have smashed your head against a pillar.”

  “That’s what happens when you take away my sight.” Roland huffed a breath and pulled himself up to sit on the tail. “How can you see?”

  “I am the darkness. The darkness is me.”

  Odd way to describe it, though he couldn’t argue it wasn’t true. Roland stood on the tail, and with careful steps and fluttering wings, he began the long walk up Asagoroth’s body. Asagoroth’s body slightly fluttered and shifted, indicating that he was hovering, although the movements weren’t jerky or any hindrance to Roland’s progress. The wind stirred his hair and brushed against his body, and he heard the faint flapping of mighty wings. He bumped into a large spike and knew he’d reached Asagoroth’s back. He continued up, smiling as he went, and soon climbed up Asagoroth’s sinuous neck to reach his head, which had become his favorite perch.

  Then he sat and kissed a scale.

  Asagoroth purred.

  Roland pressed his cheek to the scale h
e kissed. “I want us to do a mating flight. I can’t do that if I can’t see.”

  With a massive sweep of his wings, Asagoroth dispelled the darkness. Light from distant stars illuminated the place as bright as day. Roland blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the sudden light.

  “I will shift.”

  Roland launched off his head, and a moment later, thunder cracked and there hovered Asagoroth in his other form, his eyes still bright with need. With a grin and a laugh, Roland dove into the temple and led Asagoroth on a merry chase through the chamber and around pillars. He pushed for speed, never able to shake his pursuer. Asagoroth stayed on his heels the entire way, grinning and barking with laughter. They raced around the temple’s exterior several times before Roland shot up, panting with exhaustion and slick with sweat. He slowed his ascent, and Asagoroth rose up to his level. They spiraled upward together, gazes locked. Asagoroth closed the distance and slammed their mouths together, devouring Roland’s and thrusting his tongue possessively inside, then wrapping steely arms around his waist.

  Roland gasped and groaned, wrapping his legs around Asagoroth’s lean hips, pushing their erections together. At the same moment they both folded their wings against their backs and hovered in the air for a heartbeat before plummeting back to the temple. The kiss continued on, hot and demanding, frantic and endearing. Wind whistled past Roland’s ears as they neared the temple with alarming speed. That was part of the fun.

  At the last possible moment, they both separated and flapped their wings. The moment Roland gained his balance, Asagoroth tackled him out of the air. He laughed as Asagoroth flew them inside the temple and pushed his chest against the moldings that connected the wall and the ceiling. He gripped what he could and pushed back against Asagoroth’s stiff cock. Growling deeply, Asagoroth trailed his tongue down his back, between his wings, then over his ass, then into his ass. Roland whimpered and leaned his head back, gasping for air as the exhilaration of the mating flight transitioned into a coupling equally as frantic and all consuming. Asagoroth’s tongue was quick and efficient, as were his fingers, and there was no doubt he was enjoying himself since his purrs were nearly as loud as his growls.