by Calista Skye
“Be gentle,” I plead. “There’s not room for it.”
“We know there is. And if not, then your body simply has to adjust.”
I spread my legs more in eager acceptance. “Okay.”
He places the head of his manhood at my entrance, sliding it up and down, then pushing in. His eyes are on mine, checking that I’m okay. I’m glad he’s taking that kind of care, it helps me relax.
“Deeper,” I moan.
He puts more weight on it, and it slides another inch inside, with perfect control.
“More.”
He pulls out an inch, wetting the exotic rod with my own juices, then pushes back in.
“Oh,” I moan as it bores into me, warm, smooth, and slick.
And big — there’s a little bit of a burning sensation at the tightest parts as he slides all the way in, then stops and lets me feel his full length, how he fills me entirely and forces me to focus only on the intruder.
His slow heartbeat resonates through me, and when his cock twitches deep inside me, it’s as if it swells and forces my insides to surrender. He fits inside me perfectly.
“Yeah,” I groan, “I want that.”
He pulls out again, slowly. But I can’t tell — it only feels like movement, like my flesh is being carefully stimulated.
Pushing in again, he does some groaning of his own. “How can you fit so well around me?”
My tunnel is being massaged from the inside, soothed and pushed, caressed and stretched. The first time I didn’t have the chance to concentrate much on it — I started cumming before I knew it. This time, I can concentrate, but it’s no help. All the alien features on his cock are doing their thing, and to me it feels like a part of him that he controls completely.
I lose track of what happens. I just know I’m being fucked, that his cock pushes into me and makes me rock back on the ground and that liquid heat is being churned up pretty fast through my lower body.
His cock is rock hard, but gentle as a breeze. Smooth as silk, but firm as steel. Demanding, but soothing. Taking, but giving. Strange, but perfect.
And totally accepting. Like the man himself. It’s weird, I reflect as the climax builds in me and I know it’s coming, whether I want to or not. He’s the most beautiful being on the planet. And I am definitely not. Still, he makes me feel like I am. He makes me feel special.
“You are incredible,” he groans, making me shake with the bass tones.
This alien.
This mythical being.
My eyes fly open and my soul is immediately penetrated by his strange eyes.
This dragon.
The fire in his eyes ignites my climax like a match lighting a rocket. The orgasm washes over me, hot and liquid, making me tremble and whimper as I grab onto him, clutching him close. “Fuck me,” I plead.
He speeds up, fucking me hard and fast, forcing the most scandalous noises from me.
When he roars his male, draconian triumph, my orgasm reaches new heights and his cock twitches hard inside me, as if it’s still growing.
We come together for a good while. Because of course a dragon doesnt have a short human climax. No, he keeps coming inside me until I have to beg him to let me come down from the planet-spinning orbit he launched me into.
“You don’t seem so weak to me,” I purr, blissfully exhausted and limp in his arms after the orgasm of a lifetime. I can’t be bothered to open my eyes. “Are you sure you’re not healed?”
I sense him prodding his chest. “I’m sure.”
“If you did this with me at your full strength, you might kill me.”
“I am unreasonably passionate with you,” he ponders. “So that is clearly a possibility.”
I stretch luxuriously. Outside this bubble of niceness, there’s endless emergencies and dangers. I want to prolong this. “It’s really a nice love nest that monster girl made. I feel like I never want to leave it.”
“It’s pleasant,” Caronerax agrees. “She can’t have been all bad.”
Hiding a yawn with my hand, I turn around and nudge my forehead at his upper chest. “I don’t think she was bad at all. Lovesick and jealous, sure. But that would be pretty normal. If we find another monster like that, we’ll let her know. Maybe it will be a male.”
“I will not go out of my way to look for a partner for the swamp monster. But if one falls into my lap, then very well.”
I draw in his manly, alien smell. A lifetime ago, I would probably have expected a dragon to smell of sulfur or burned skin, but this one only smells fresh. “I will make some more paste for you and your wound. And I have a couple of ideas for how we can get across the swamp faster.”
He kisses my head. “That would be most welcome. Will you find sufficient things to eat on this island? Did I see you munch on the same type of berries?”
“This should be fine,” I murmur, getting sleepy in the sunlight. “The water in the waterfall should be more than clean enough to drink. We can stay here until tomorrow, right?”
“Right.” Caronerax stirs and gets to his feet. “I’m getting too used to lying down and sitting down. It’s as if the ground pulls at me.”
“It does,” I explain primly. “It’s called ‘gravity’.”
“Never bothered me before,” he mutters and cleans himself under the little waterfall.
“Me neither,” I agree and sit up, hugging my knees.
He gazes up at the salen tree. “Do you want more of those fruits?”
“Yes, please. Maybe we shouldn’t take all of them — Marshie might need them for later. They may be her special treat. If so, she’ll need a lot of them after you’re gone.”
Caronerax goes over to the tree and picks a couple of fruits. “I understood very little of that sentence. Marshie?”
I admire his naked body, flexing in the most alluring way as he reaches up to pick fruit. “Yeah, so there’s a monster on my home planet. In a lake called Loch Ness. She’s called Nessie. This girl lives in a marsh, so Marshie seems appropriate. And I know that sometimes it can be nice for a girl to have some nice food to eat when she’s gotten her heart broken. Most of us use ice cream, but I can’t see any triple chocolate gelato bushes around here. So.”
“That makes everything much clearer,” the dragon says. “Loch Ness and triple gelato. Yes, I understand perfectly now. Crystal clear. No need to say more about it.”
“You have the driest delivery of anyone I’ve ever met,” I inform him. “Which is interesting, considering how wet you make me.”
“We are full of contrasts,” Caronerax says and dumps six salen fruits on the ground in front of me. “Or maybe that’s just you.”
“No,” I lazily protest, “it’s you. All contrast. Have you seen your yellow stripes on the blue scales? You’re like a lesson in contrast. All sour and hair-pulling one moment, then sweet and fruit-picking the next— aiiee!”
Without warning, the dragon bends down and brings his face right up to mine, while he grabs my upper arms and hold them tightly.
For three heartbeats, he stares into me with those two different eyes.
“Did you call me sweet?” he growls between clenched teeth.
“No,” I squeak. “It wasn’t me.” It’s the best I can do. My heart rate is going crazy. Shit, did I really anger him?
“Oh,” Caronerax says and lets my arms go. “I was hoping it was you. I have never been called sweet before. If it were you, it would have made me happy, and I would have rewarded you.”
His face breaks out into a tight little smile, and he gives me peck on the lips before he straightens.
I breathe out. “Oh my. You can be extremely intense, you know that?”
“I know I could be. Before the injury. Now I feel like I want to test my powers of terror all the time.”
I stand up and look around for my dress. “Next time, test them on someone else, please. And now I think about it, it was me who said you were sweet. What is my reward?”
“Your reward is
that you may attempt to fix the rip in my pants while I gather your green plants for the paste. And I imagine you will want firewood tonight as well?” He walks in among the fruit trees without waiting for my reply, his round, powerful butt flexing so perfectly that the sight of it sends a hot surge through me.
My dress is a sad, wet splat on the rocks. I hang it on a bush, deciding that being naked is pretty pleasant. Nobody can come here, anyway, except by air.
I throw a glance up to the sky. No dactyls.
And no dragons. I would have expected Mia and Eleanor to persuade their husbands to fly some search patrols and try to find me. They have some idea where I might be — my guess that I am pretty much straight north of the village so far seems to be pretty much spot on. But I haven’t seen so much as a scale of any other dragon than Caronerax. I have trouble seeing that as anything other than a bad sign. The messenger spidermonkey may not yet have had time to return there, but it feels like he should have. If so, perhaps the siege is going so badly for the girls that they simply can’t spare a single dragon.
No, I won’t worry. Not right now.
I wander over to a cluster of trees bearing nuts, a pretty familiar one from the village. In fact, now that I look closer, all these trees and bushes are known to me from before. Except that cherry-like thing with the big and interesting seed inside.
I pick a handful of them and suck the pits dry, then deposit them in my neck pouch. It’s probably nothing at all like what I think it might be, but it’s worth a shot. In case I’m on to something.
And it’s getting warmer. I wonder if we’re in fact quite a lot closer to the jungle than I had feared.
I find myself grinning for no particular reason. It’s just that I feel better now than at any point since I came to Xren. And that’s because of the freaking dragon.
I gather some nuts and fruits and berries for the rest of the voyage, making sure to leave enough behind for Marshie, if she ever brings a date here. Not sure how she would enjoy this island herself, but if it’s a paradise island to me, then it might be at least pleasant to her. I guess I will never know.
I’ve had an idea about how I can walk easier in the mud, so I break off supple twigs and saplings as raw material and sit down on the fur with my legs crossed, take my little knife out of the pouch around my neck, and start working, concentrating.
And humming, I notice after a couple seconds. All right, I guess I’m content right now, and I will absolutely preserve that feeling for as long as I can. It’s a really appropriate song, too.
“Nobody text me in a crisis,” I sing softly, bending twigs and stripping off bark and enjoying myself with something that might make a difference. Not the most melodic of tunes, but that suits my vocal talent fine.
Caronerax does his usual trick of dumping a huge load of firewood behind me, but I don’t flinch.
“There you are,” I say absentmindedly, concentrating on my work.
“I’ve lost my powers to instill terror,” he mutters. “Even a small female barely notices me.”
I glance up. “Oh, I notice you, all right. It’s just that you don’t scare me. I think we can safely assume I’m the only living thing on this planet not scared out of their minds when you’re close. Oh, and Marshie, probably.”
He takes in my handiwork. “What are you doing?”
“It’s an Earth invention,” I explain. “They’re called ‘snowshoes’.”
He nods. “Of course. I also noticed the total lack of snow in this area. And I believe the air is getting warmer. So I absolutely see why you would make things like that. I only wonder why you didn’t think of it before.”
“You’re pretty sarcastic for a dragon,” I tell him. “You would be a big hit on Earth. No, I don’t expect snow. But it seems to me that snowshoes may also be useful on mud. Mud-shoes. Does that make more sense?”
“We will see when we continue. Here are some of your green herbs. I have observed how you turn them into paste, and I now intend to follow the same process.”
I reward him with a radiant smile. “Great! I’m sure yours will be better than mine.” I’m pretty sure it won’t, but is there a better way to get a guy to do something than to flatter his efforts?
“Hmm,” he replies with uncharacteristic doubt, sits down, and starts grinding the herbs between two rocks. “Possibly.”
“Dragons don’t make much, right? They prefer to take things others have made?”
“It is much easier.”
I grin. “Can’t argue with that.”
We sit there in silence for a while, working. I never thought I would enjoy myself this much on this hellhole of a planet. I’m being useful. As far as I know, nobody has made snowshoes on Xren. Not even during the sudden and massive snowfall a few months back, when Mia met Kyandros. Finally, I’m maybe doing something kind of original!
Caronerax concentrates on his grinding, making a bad mess of the paste while his red tongue sticks a little out of the corner of his mouth.
I’m not sure if I should go ‘aaawwww’ from the incredible cuteness of it, or if it should be a more passionate ‘oooh.’ Because that’s not a human tongue. Too much texture, as I felt when he kissed me. And I suspect he could do wonders with it if he really went for it down below.
I shift my position before I get turned on.
Maybe I could make skis. Would skis work on mud? There is such a thing as waterskis, but don’t they need a boat to pull them along?
I finish my two pairs of mudshoes while the fresh scent of the ground healing herbs spreads.
“Smells good,” I praise the dragon. “May I see?”
He proudly shows me a large leaf with a dollop of grainy paste in the middle of it. The rest is spread around on the ground, covering his fingers, and caked on the rocks.
“It is quite magnificent,” he tells me, “much like the raft you helped me build. It will certainly have a particular healing power. Made by a dragon.”
“Oh, definitely,” I agree and accept the leaf. “It will be extremely potent.”
Sure, let’s get some placebo effects going here. If he really thinks this paste is better because he made it himself, then maybe it’s better if I let him believe it, and his own mind will make it work better.
I apply the paste to his wound, not seeing a reason to mention that the discolored patch is not getting any smaller. And once more there is a drop of ichor right at the hole in the scales. I hope the sex didn’t make him exert himself too much.
“Is it still painful?” I ask carefully.
He looks away. “Somewhat.”
I try to push a bit of the paste into the hole, but I have no idea if it will help. Right now I don’t think there’s any risk of infection — the sliver of metal inside is probably poisonous to him, like he said, and that’s making all the trouble.
We switch positions, and Caronerax smears the rest of the paste onto my shoulder wounds. They’re no longer sore.
“Healing well,” he says. “I can barely see where the punctures were.”
“And now it will heal completely,” I agree, “with paste made by a real dragon. I’ll try to fix your pants.”
I grab them, fashion a crude needle from wood, and use a thin sliver of stringy bark as thread.
Glancing up at Caronerax, I can’t help but notice that his cock is always in varying degrees of stiffness. He sends me some glances, and each time the hard, exotic rod twitches and rises skyward.
It’s probably the most flattering thing that’s happened to me. He sees me totally bared, with no lingerie and no makeup, not having shaved for a good few months, and still it has that effect on him. Like, continuous arousal. Like his continuous orgasm. Oh my sweet dancing dactyls. That was something else. A total meld of climaxes. I never want any other kind of sex. Only that for the rest of my life, please.
That in itself makes me happy with my semi-conscious choice to let him fuck me back there, with the monster watching. He was the right guy, not someone who
wanted to pump-and-dump me. And I think he’s the right guy in more ways than that.
It was a crazy thing to do, absolutely. But it seemed so right. Like, the only thing to make the monster lose interest. And the only thing I had been able to think of the whole day. His cock was a constant presence in the back of my mind. Or the front, rather.
The fabric of his pants is tough, and I have to use the tip of my knife to make holes in it so the needle can pass through. Still, I doubt it is as magical as he says.
“Caronerax, have you thought more about the thing I mentioned before? Helping us against the other dragons?”
“No,” he says sincerely. “I have not. Why should I?”
“Well…” I’m not sure how to continue. “I thought maybe you had changed your mind.”
“It must be exhausting being of your species,” he says, frowning. “Always thinking ahead, always busy making plans. Never able to simply enjoy your hoard or your power.”
“It’s what keeps us alive,” I say. “We kind of have to make plans—”
A tingle like before goes down my spine, and my heap whips around. And this time I’m pretty sure I see a thin tentacle with an eye on the end pulling back and out of sight among the bushes.
“We’re being watched again.”
“Yes,” Caronerax says, rubbing his hands to rid them of the sticky paste, “our friend the swamp monster has been observing us for a while. Such a curious creature. She’s close by, probably under this floating island. But it’s hard to tell.”
I draw closer to him. “Do you think she will harm us?”
“I think she will want to harm you, certainly. I also think she will not do it. She knows it would make me furious.”
I glance up at him. “Would it?”
“It would.”
“Why?”
He reaches out, puts his hand behind my neck, and pulls me to him. “Because, despite you giving me pain for the first time, condemning me to days in human form, slowing me down and degrading me by forcing me to walk, I find that I enjoy your company to a quite unreasonable degree.”
He kisses me tenderly on the lips, and I respond eagerly. I think that’s the most affectionate thing I can get him to say about me, and from a dragon, it’s pretty powerful.
