Page 5

Home home. My hoard. All my beautiful, shiny, priceless things stacked and arranged exactly the way I like them, with a damn near indestructible door between me and the rest of the world.

I drag in a slow, deep breath and I can feel my dragon relaxing, a happy purr vibrating in my chest and the feeling of utter rightness washing over me.

After I spent days trapped in a cage, tortured by a demon, you’d think the distinct scent of hell would raise my hackles and make me sick to my stomach, but it stirs my dragon the same way it always has, drawing the beast to the surface to pulse right beneath my soft, human skin.

I blink and the room comes into sharper focus, bits of metal and jewels glinting in the light.

A lovely, greedy, prideful feeling makes my cock stir and emerald scales ripple over my skin.

A tendril of smoke tickles my nostrils as I exhale, then breathe in deeply again.

It’s hard to describe the exact scent of my hoard.

I could list off the mingling smells one by one—the sweet aroma of the gold, the earthy notes of silver and copper, the surprisingly sharp, almost citrus scent of precious gems—but that would be like describing the shape of a cloud when someone asks what it feels like to fly.

There’s something more, something that calls to me on a level that’s so much deeper.

I don’t know how other dragons choose their hoards, but every item in this room has called to me.

Every dagger and chalice and piece of jewelry looked and smelled and felt like mine the second I found them.

My cock gives a needy throb. I reach for the nearest dagger—a short sterling silver blade with a jewel studded gold handle.

There are words carved into the blade in the unmistakable language of the underworld, but fuck if I know what they say.

Don’t really care either. It could be a demon cure or an enchantment, maybe song lyrics for all I know.

I drag my tongue over the flat edge all the same, moaning like I would if I were lapping at warm, responsive flesh instead of cold, unfeeling metal.

I set the dagger back down carefully and wander deeper into my hoard.

I snake one hand down my pants, pawing at my precious collection with the other.

I spot one of my favorite items, a leather-bound book perched on the arm of an overstuffed chair.

I flop down into the chair and pick up the book, rubbing my cheek against the soft, warm leather of the binding.

The pages have kept the scent of sulfur and fire stronger than almost anything else in my hoard, and the leather is so smooth that I can almost convince myself I’m nuzzling a lover as I tighten my grip around the base of my cock and stroke myself a little faster.

I puff out a lungful of smoke against the book, confident the pages won’t ignite even if I get carried away.

It would be a pretty pathetic demonic tome if it was vulnerable to a little bit of flame.

The distinct smell of my own smoke mingles with the scent of the book, and scales ripple over my skin again.

I know every dragon gets off in their hoard room, but I’ve never had the guts to ask if I’m taking it to an extreme.

Do other dragons lick and nuzzle their most precious things, their shaft getting slicker and slicker with their own precum with every heady inhale?

Do other dragons experience the most intense orgasms only with the smell of their hoard in their nose?

Maybe I’ve got some kind of fucked up fetish, or maybe I just have the very best hoard, the kind of hoard other dragons would kill and die for.

I groan again, setting the book aside and shoving my pants the rest of the way down.

I kick them off and curl my free hand into a fist, my attention caught by an unfamiliar tightness around my finger.

The ring .

I don’t know how I could have forgotten about it considering it’s the main reason my dick is so hard in the first place.

It’s just so… perfect . Gold band studded with emeralds the same shade as my scales, engraved with demon script on the inside.

Maybe stealing it right out from under Drax’s nose made it look even prettier to me.

“Mine,” I growl, snaking my tongue around the band on my finger before reaching for my cock again.

I’m so close to the edge already, my balls tight and fire licking at the back of my throat.

And the feeling of the warm, smooth metal of the ring against my shaft makes everything hotter, needier, more desperate.

I whine and buck my hips, fucking into my grip.

My eyes fall closed, and I unintentionally conjure the image of a perfect mate meant just for me.

Strong and kind and extremely talented with his tongue.

I shake the thought off as fast as I can, sliding my free hand between my legs to give my balls a sharp tug that curls my toes and makes my cock spasm in my grasp.

Who needs the trouble of a mate when I’ve already found love with all my pretty, pretty things?

The best thing about books and daggers and demon artifacts is that I can’t disappoint them.

This ring will never call me a fuckup or look at me with frustrated acceptance, it will just stay right there on my finger without judgment.

I tug on my sac again, and another whine slips past my lips.

My cock swells in my grip and I let out a long, low moan.

Fire bursts on my tongue, scorching my lips, and pleasure pulses through me in dizzying waves.

The first few spurts of my release land on my belly and my shirt, and then it starts to ooze down my shaft, coating my fingers with every hot, sticky rope of cum I tease out until I’m gasping and panting and boneless.

I sag in the chair, my eyes still closed, my dragon rumbling with even more contentment than usual.

And did the smell of hell suddenly get stronger?

DRAX

The insistent tug pulling at my chest guides me to a most unexpected place. I awoke in Mac’s home, but he was gone and so was my mate ring. Now I’m here, pushing through a stone door as the scents of home and a new sweet and smoky fragrance tickle my nose.

The creature in the chair doesn’t even seem to know I’m here for several seconds.

Emerald scales fade, leaving soft pink flesh in their wake.

He’s flushed and panting, his cock drooling out the last dribbles of his orgasm, and he smells like sex and fire and smoke.

He smells more like home than home does. He smells like mine .

Mac.

What a surprise that he made such a decision without telling me first. Was he too excited?

My eyes land on my ring around his finger, coated in the remnants of his release, and a growl of pleasure tightens my throat.

“Mate,” I murmur, my chest swelling with pride, my tail flicking from side to side pleasantly.

A little crease forms between his brows, and I lean in closer, inhaling deeply to gather the taste of his pleasure on my tongue and the flavor of his smoky breaths into my lungs.

“Mate,” I whisper again, and his eyes flutter open.

They’re emeralds, just like the scales that faded, just like the stones in the ring I picked out millennia ago, with the elongated slits of his dark pupils in the middle. He blinks and his eyes change, his pupils turning round and small and the color simmering to a shade of hazel.

Why does he look so stunned when he’s the one who put on my mating ring and summoned me here? Maybe that’s just how dragons choose a mate?

“Mate,” I rumble for the third time, just in case he’s actually as confused as he looks, and I drop to my knees between his spread thighs.

Fuck, he really does smell good. The scent of sex is even stronger here, and so is the salty, sweet smell of his skin. His heart thunders loudly, his skin still deep pink with exertion and his breathing still heavy and uneven.

“Wh-what?”

I grin and reach for his hand, coated in his own release, my ring glinting on his finger.

“Mate.” I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it. The word feels perfect on my tongue, but not nearly as perfect as the soft give of his palm as I lap up the delicious mess he made. I snake between his fingers, wrapping my long, forked tongue around each one.

Mac gasps and squirms. He tries to pull his hand away, but I tighten my hold on his wrist.

“I think… Oh fuck…” he whimpers. “I think you’re confused, Drax. How did you even get in here?”

I wrap my tongue around the ring on his finger, and his cock stirs again. Just like his fingers, it’s covered in the remnants of his release.

“How could I be confused?” I nip at his fingertip, drawing a droplet of blood before his skin immediately heals. “You put on my mating ring. I’m here because you summoned me here.”

“What?” he barks, yanking his hand out of my grasp. “No, that’s not—I didn’t—It can’t be…” He tugs at the ring, but, of course, it doesn’t budge.

He seems… less than pleased. That can’t be right.

Maybe he’s just overwhelmed by how happy he is about our mating?

Or maybe I’m struggling to interpret his body language.

This would be so much easier if I were an incubus.

I could just sense his emotions. But it’s okay, I’ll learn.

I’ll make my mate happy, whatever it takes.

And finishing my task of cleaning him up seems like a great place to start.

I grunt in response to his rambling, unfinished sentences, then lower myself to lick the streaks of cum off of his belly. His skin is surprisingly warm. Another happy noise vibrates in my throat, and I nuzzle him.

“Mate,” I purr, wriggling my tongue into his belly button. “You could have just asked. I would have given it freely if I knew this was what you were feeling.”

He squirms and his hands press against the top of my head, his fingertips grazing my horns in a teasing caress. My cock aches and stiffens against my furry thigh, and I groan.

“Wait,” Mac gasps.

I frown. He is unhappy.

“What’s wrong?” I’m barely able to resist the temptation of his stiff, cum slicked cock close enough to lick. “Are you displeased with my demon form?” I shimmer easily into a different shape, broad and rippling; my default human glamour. “Is this better?”

His eyes go wide again, and his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.

“Yeah,” he mutters, bobbling his head for a second before he stops and shakes it instead. “I mean, no, that wasn’t the problem.” He pushes on my head again, this time without the horns in the way.

I ease back to sit on the floor, the cement shockingly cold against the delicate human skin I’m wearing right now.

My cock is still hard, but it’s wilting as confusion overtakes my excitement at finally having a mate after all these years.

He tries to pull the ring off again, and when that doesn’t work, he tugs his pants up.

“I’ve… displeased you?” My large, broad shoulders sag, and the panic in his eyes stutters for a second into something softer.

“No, I just…” He shakes his head again and scrambles out of the chair, crawling over the arm of it to get up rather than put himself any closer to me. “I didn’t mean… Ah shit.”

Mac’s reaction is very confusing. He chose to put my mating ring on, so he must have wanted me. Maybe he’s just bad at communicating, but we can fix it. After all, we have the rest of eternity to work on it, and to become the best mates we can be to each other.

“I’ll make you happy,” I vow, and I can feel the promise of the words sealing around my tongue. Demons can’t break promises, and I wouldn’t want to even if I could.

“Cool, yeah. I’m just gonna go get some fresh air, okay?” He stumbles towards the door, his pants still hanging open and his eyes fixed on me like he’s afraid of what I’ll do if he looks away.

“I can come with you.”

“No. I’ll only be a minute.” He rubs the center of his chest, his brow creased. “Stay here.”

I nod as the door swings closed behind him.

This is so exciting. I have a mate. I can’t wait to start our eternity.