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The bracers were already borderingon uncomfortable, but this lovely creature before him was more skittish than a frightened mouse. It wouldn’t do to force the issue, which meant he had to place his hopes in a terrified human woman’s willingness to fuck a monster.
Moss-fang, realizing all too well that he was essentially half serpent, wondered how well he’d get along without hands.
He wouldn’t be able to climb out of the well, nor find food, nor hold coins, so he’d likely die. After all these years, it seemed an anti-climactic end to the last of a magical line, and a morose wave of grief swept through him. He’d never see his fathers again.
The human’s warm little hand closed over his own, her brows knit with a concern that pushed the grief back with ease. “Guardian, I- “ she shook her head, staring sightlessly at the wall over his shoulder for a moment. “-I won’t let you be maimed on my behalf. You likely saved my life and I was nothing more than a thief breaking into your home, uninvited, to steal from you.”
She bit at her lips nervously, her skittish gaze darting into his as she made up her mind. “I only ask that you please don’t…hurt me. I have not laid with a dragon, nor a djinn, and while I am no virgin, I-”
He reached his hands up to cradle her face, resting his brow on hers with a soft, pleased sigh. “Moss-fang. My name is Moss-fang, little sovereign. You have my word that I will treat you as the treasure you are, and no harm will come to you. What may I call you?”
Her soft hands bracketed his own as she tilted her face up, her lips mere inches from his, cheeks lightly flushed. “I’m Tirasande. My friends call - well, called - me Tira.”
The pressure at his wrists, as well as the growing pressure below his waist, drove him to close the distance between them. Her lips were soft and warm, meeting his with only a moment of hesitation, opening willingly when his tongue brushed against their plush seam. When he drew back for a breath, he was pleased to see her body sway slightly toward his, as if chasing his kiss. The bracers did not relent, precisely, but they did stop tightening further, sensing him moving towards his appointed task.
“So lovely. Know that I desire you for reasons well beyond my own survival. Will you accept me, Tira?” Moss-fang murmured as his hand skimmed down Tira’s side to cup her hip. He growled his praise, testing the boundaries of their fledgling intimacy. When she offered a soft hum of pleasure and didn’t move away, a fierce possession warmed his limbs as his dragon nature roared with satisfaction in his mind.His. She gasped, palms meeting his chest to steady herself as his short talons curled around her ass, dimpling her breeches as he pulled their hips together roughly.
He dropped his head to nuzzle between her neck and shoulder, tongue flicking out to taste the salt of her skin, deliciously warmed by exertion. He dragged his fangs gently - so, so gently - along her collar bone, tracing their reined-in path with a long lick of his slender forked tongue. “I need to see all of you, little sovereign. Reveal yourself to me.”
He eased back a fraction, though it was the last thing he truly wanted to do, the end of his tail snapping up to steady her lower back as she nearly tripped backwards over his tail-coil. Her eyes darted to the obstacle at her boots, swallowing thickly as she was reminded exactly what manner of not-man she was preparing to bed.
“Shy, are we? Shall I reveal myself to you first, then?” He smirked, fingers plucking teasingly at the knot of his sarong as he fixed her with a sultry glance. “Perhaps if you ask nicely.”
Her fingers froze at her chest, where they’d been slowly tugging at her own bodice laces, her gaze drifting inexorably to his waist like the heavy sink of a coin in water. Her voice cracked lightly, and it took her two tries, but she managed to comply. “Y- yes, please. Please show me, Moss?”
He liked the way she whispered his name so cautiously, like he was some sort of deity she needed to show deference to, or offer herself up to for sacrifice. He also liked the way she’d shortened his name, in the way companion-humans often did with one another.Moss.He decided he liked the intimate simplicity. His dragon preened, even as his bracers gave a warning vibration to move things along.
Tongue braced on a fang, he worked the knot loose, letting the priceless brocaded silk slither down his hips to pile on the floor. He smiled indulgently at her puzzled expression, following it to the smooth, pale plane of flesh that edged seamlessly below his hips into the taper of his tail. Parting his fingers, he pressed his palm to the barely-visible slit in the center, just below where a human’s naval would be.
The sharp, shocked intake of breath from his captive-yet-erstwhile-master made his shaft pulse with anticipation, easing the reveal. His flesh parted painlessly beneath his fingers to allow the thick shaft of his cock to tumble out and down, shining with tendrils of aroused lubrication. He sighed happily, closing his fingers around his girth and giving it a few rough strokes just for the pleasure of it.
Tira stumbled backwards, sitting down heavily in his nest, staring openly at his cock as he languidly slid a fist over it.
“Can’t you make it, you know…smaller?” Her voice was a tiny whisper, her still-clothed thighs tightening against each other as if they could prevent the inevitable. She swallowed hard, her eyes darting to his face, the stone walls, his nest, virtuallyanywherebut the object of her trepidation.
Moss was a creature of pure magic, possibly the last of his kind, and powerful in ways the mortal mind couldn’t begin to fathom unaided. Ofcoursehe could make himself smaller.
“No, I cannot.”
A surge of arousal sparked through him with the easy lie, a snap of light popping at the end of his finned tail like the crack of a whip. The thought of the little human struggling to take him, clutching at his shoulders with a whimper, her face a mix of determination and the slight panic he already saw there -gods yes. He wanted that, more than gold, more than wishes, more thanair.
His fathers had not raised a beast, but wicked things flourished in the dark.
Somethingwild and terrifying flashed in Moss’ eyes, twisting Tira’s belly. It was the look of a friendly hound at the hearth suddenly deciding if it would take your leftover haunch of boar or your hand along with it. Moss may have spoken with an elegance to rival the finest bard, but it was all too clear what the well guardian was when he wasn’t minding himself: a monster.
Giving his head a soft, hard shake, he turned from her abruptly and plunged his hand in the pile of glittering coins, thrusting yet another into her palm. He stooped inwards, the warm, wet press of his substantial cockhead smearing on her arm as he murmured in her ear. His voice had gone deeper, rougher, less of man and more of…something else. “You are a rare treat I intend tofullyenjoy, Tira. Hold fast to that coin and wish me to stop if you must, because my restraint hangs on a fraying thread. These cuffs are tight, little sovereign, but I know you’ll be even tighter for me.”
With a satisfied snarl, he slithered backwards, grasping the jumble of rope in the corner and swinging a hand aloft, the torches all around them guttering to darkness at the gesture. Tira sucked in a breath, whirling, eyes searching wildly in what little dim moonlight came down the well shaft and reflected off the water. A large, dark shape scattered the meager light, the sound of something scraping on stone and scattering water ringing around her.
After long,fruitless moments trying to make out the shapes of things, warmth gusted at the back of her neck. She whimpered and spun at the sensation, finding only emptiness where her reaching hands grasped at darkness. Again, the gust of warmth -his breath- brushed at the side of her neck, sending the flesh of her arms prickling before it, too, vanished.
His dark chuckle made her feel even smaller than she already was, her stomach flipping with the same nerves she used to wrestle before a big heist. Curiously, however, she was actually looking forward to being caught, rather than avoiding it at all costs.
As she mused, Moss’ tail roiled through the dark, lightning bolts of subtle luminescence crackling through his fins as he moved. He began to skillfully wrap that thick tail around her, loops that flexed and squeezed her ankles, her shins, and finally her thighs. In mere moments, her legs were held together so tightly, she’d fall if not for the constricting support around them. He used the strange hold to tilt her helplessly toward him, angling her face inches from his own.
Another kiss claimed her mouth, this one much more thorough than the first, whatever rusty vestiges of courtly manner remained falling away from Moss as Tira surrendered to him. Fear still lingered in her limbs like a bee sting, but she ignored it for the delicious rush of exhilaration that raced through her, tightening in her throat.
Gods, she was really going to do this, wasn’t she?
