Page 36 of Wings of Frost and Fury (Merciless Dragons #4)
Two days after the Mordvorren’s arrival, I dream of my first mating.
Ever since the storm hit, Thelise has suffered under its shadow.
She says her magic feels like it’s being clutched in a brutal, titanic fist, and that her head is cloudy and her heartbeat is wild.
Her skin burns like a furnace all the time, and my gusts of frost-fire only offer her temporary relief.
Perhaps some of Thelise’s misery stirs up the anxieties I felt immediately after the last mating season, when I realized that despite the intimacy I shared with several of the female dragons, I still had no lasting bond with any of them.
There was no one who wished to lay eggs in my nest, and no offspring to care for after hatching season.
I suspect that latent fear contributes to the intensity of the dream.
In the dream, I awaken in my cave with an unusual restlessness crawling against my bones.
My mind feels duller than usual, my thoughts simpler.
Everything that I am, all the knowledge I’ve gained in my first twenty-five years, all the higher thought processes I might typically have, are sublimated, and in their place rises one consuming urge—to breed.
I leap from the ledge of my cave and take to the breeze, roaring to the sky. My voice is different, too—deeper, wilder, with a gravelly vibration in the sound. I glory in the way my wings beat the air, in the virile strength of my body, in the thrash of my thick tail.
The roars of other dragons reverberate through the valley, the deep bellows of males interspersed with the clarion calls of the females.
By some mutual accord, we all fly toward the same area, the sunny meadows and slopes near the center of Ouroskelle, overlooking the lake and its surrounding forest.
The other young males and I have been taught the mating dance, a rhythmic show of our flexibility and strength, intended to reveal the most capable hunters and defenders.
I join a cluster of males who have already begun to perform, and I pound the earth with my feet, beating time with my wings, thrashing my neck and my tail.
During part of the dance, we mount into the air, twisting and writhing and spinning to show off every part of our bodies to the females.
Since many of us are already aroused, our cocks are visible, too. They are part of the demonstration. I’m amazed at the different colors, sizes, and textures that are revealed. Mine is smooth, pearlescent, and gray.
After dancing together for a short time, the males take turns dancing alone. If a female approaches one of us during our dance, she is signaling that she is ready to mate.
I linger near Garizor, a huge dragon twenty-five years older than I am, watching as he performs for the benefit of two females.
His cock is a deep orange, darkening to brown at the base, and boldly ridged.
After a few moments, Villura, a female dragon, approaches him, lifting her tail and flaring her wings.
She and Garizor touch their noses together and twine their necks briefly before he moves behind her.
Nearby dragons, who are also observing the scene, bellow encouragement to the pair. Across the meadow, more dragons are dancing, roaring, beginning to nuzzle and wind around each other. My heart pounds violently and my brain thrums with the repeated refrain of fuck, mate, breed.
Villura moves her wings forward and swings her tail aside, revealing the genital slit between her back legs.
Garizor mounts her, holding her in place with his front claws.
His great bulk hunches over her body, and the muscles of his haunches contract beneath his scaly hide as he thrusts rapidly into her.
Villura must feel some pleasure, because her eyes close and she rumbles a sound of delight. When Garizor releases inside her, she lets out a sigh of satisfaction. He moves away immediately, his attention drawn by the second female who watched him dance.
I sweep my gaze over the fields, noting that while many dragons are engaged in mating dances or openly fucking, others are simply observing or celebrating. Some of the bonded pairs remain separate from the rest, coupling with only each other, while others mate freely.
With the onset of the heat, my sense of the female dragons has awakened, alerting me to the location of every potential mate.
I have no family members whom I must avoid.
All the females are mine for the taking, if they consent to have me.
And one of them must take me, because my need is maddening.
I am a few desperate moments away from humping the nearest rock.
Swerving my neck back toward Villura, I discover that she is lying on her left side, with her wings draped across the grass and her right back leg lifted. Her slit is visible, gaping slightly, the swollen pink flesh glistening with her arousal. She is clearly available, waiting for another male .
Luroc is prowling toward her, but I pounce into her space first and sniff along her neck with a low growl. She whines and pants, lifting her back leg higher.
I climb onto her and insert myself, sliding deep inside her channel and pumping hard as I saw Garizor do. The friction of her slippery insides along my cock is sheer euphoria, and my mind goes entirely blank while I fuck her.
At last I reach the pinnacle, and a roar bursts from my throat as I experience the sharp, aching bliss of my first orgasm.
Villura accepts my load, and when I move aside, Luroc eagerly mounts her.
I recline on the grass, dizzy from the pleasure I just experienced, and I watch him fill her as well.
After him she takes another, and another, until creamy white seed overflows her slit, trailing down the scales of her belly.
Only then does she groan in satisfaction and roll onto her stomach to rest.
Just as my limp cock is beginning to harden again, a slim young dragon from my hatching season approaches me, bobbing her head, her tongue tracing her jaws. We don’t speak as our bodies join, but the sweetness of her breath and the tightness of her hole linger in my mind for hours afterward.
The rest of the day is a blur of dizzying pleasure. Toward sunset we hunt, famished from all the activity. Some of us sleep, but mating continues through the night, until the meadow and the lakeside beach smell thickly of arousal and seed.
I’m torn out of the past into the present, waking up from the dream with a jolt. Every spike on my body stands erect, while my cock extrudes from its pouch, swollen and leaking.
Thelise lies near me in the nest, her nude body draped on the blankets. Her face is flushed with richer color than usual because of the feverish heat that burns in her flesh.
At the sight of her, guilt rushes over me, but I remind myself that I can’t control visions that come to me while I sleep.
The events of the dream occurred long ago, and at the time they were natural and beautiful, part of my culture.
They have no impact on my relationship with Thelise or my loyalty to her.
The dream was perfectly accurate to my memories of that time, even including details that I did not recall until I saw them unfolding again.
Perhaps the recurrence of mating season has brought those things to the forefront of my mind, or perhaps the Mordvorren is dragging forward my memories for its own foul purposes.
I remember how violent my hunger was during that week, how irresistible.
The need to fuck , to breed superseded everything else.
Sometimes, a few of the other males and I were desperate to mate when no females were available, and we rubbed our cocks on each other’s bodies for relief.
I often saw Ardun and Ianeth fucking each other’s cock slits and anuses.
Their coupling did not produce offspring, of course, but they seemed to enjoy it.
With sudden sorrow, I think of Mordessa.
Ardun and Ianeth took her in after her mother and father perished, and she became their daughter.
This week will be a sorrowful one for her fathers.
The joy of mating will be diminished as thoughts of her loss weigh heavy on their minds.
Some of the dragons who are my age and older, particularly any who had a preferred companion or a bonded mate, will be spending this mating season in mourning, even as the heat forces them to fuck.
I pity them, and yet for once I am relieved that I never found a female with whom to bond.
Strangely, even though the night of the Rib Moon must have passed by now, I do not feel the heat as strongly as I did at age twenty-five.
The urge to breed should not abate with age—if anything, it should become more powerful.
But I suspect that my years of using alethia for pleasure may have interfered with my body’s sexual rhythms—and perhaps Thelise’s spell had something to do with it, too .
It’s a relief to know that I’m fully in control, that I’m not overpowered by such mindless, reckless need that I would violate Thelise’s body.
And yet I am undoubtedly in heat. When I’m in dragon form, my cock is always extruded, always hanging heavily between my back legs or draped along my belly.
When I’m human, I’m constantly erect, and I grow hard again just a few minutes after I’ve come.
Thelise grows more ill with every passing day. Her favorite position is on her side, her spine curved and her knees pulled up toward her chest. She says the storm hurts her less that way.
When I’m in human form, she wants me naked, lying behind her, wrapped around her. I remain there for hours, stroking her hip, her arm, her hair. I nuzzle my face against her neck and murmur soft, foolish things into her ear.