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Damn you, Iolaxarkis, the dragon thought to himself for the fifth time in an hour. What was the point of memorizing tunnels if they were going to be different every time he returned? Vaervalosvoraxion knew he was more or less going in the correct direction on account of the prolific sapphire veins scraping at his scales, and his innate sense of up and down served him well, but time and again he found tunnels that had previously led him to his friend’s lair now came to dead ends or looped around on themselves. He allowed himself a moment to lie down flat and lash his tail against the walls in an unseemly little fit he petulantly hoped would knock some crystals loose.
Once he’d decided he’d stewed long enough, Vaer picked himself up and continued on his way, scenting around for any trace of Iolaxarkis. Sapphire dragons, as a general rule, had an acerbic scent beneath their earthiness, and it was the first thing to fade over time. As thick as Iolaxarkis’s scent was here, thus far he hadn’t caught a whiff of that sharpness that meant the trail was recent.
He found himself in a little chamber staring down three forks in the tunnel: one filled with the sour scent of humanoid bodies; one choked with thick layers of spiderweb; one overgrown with jagged crystals that glowed faintly blue in the darkness—and that very scent he was searching for. Vaer perked up and trotted down that one with pep in his paws but quickly discovered that the crystals were sharper than they appeared. Cursing his paranoid, territorial friend yet again, he slowed down and wincingly picked his way through the tunnels with minerals threatening to slice up his feet. Some two hundred yards later he congratulated himself on passing through without leaving a trail of blood behind. Scattered bones told him that not all who passed that way were so skilled at choosing their footing.
The trail nearly went stale a few times. Fortunately he knew Iolaxarkis (and sapphire dragons in general) well enough to know to scent the ceilings as well; sure enough, that’s where the scent picked up each time. It grew stronger, setting Vaer’s tail to wriggling in anticipation, until at last he stepped over the fresh remains of giant spider legs and knew his friend was near. He craned his head around a blind corner, casting about. “Iolax—”
BOOM!!
Vaer whipped backwards hard enough to topple over from the sonic blast, clawing at his auditory tympanum. Dazed, there was nothing but a constant ringing in his ears, and thus heard nothing when a second blow bowled him back down the way he’d come. His claws scrabbled against the stone as he leapt up and flared his wings out in a defensive display. Plumes of dust made sight useless but other senses alerted him to movement above: a winged reptilian form, larger than himself, barreling towards him across the ceiling with its maw open.
Intruder! a familiar voice boomed through Vaer’s mind. You’ve come to die!
Vaer scrambled backwards. ”Iolaxarkis, stop, it’s me—”
The sapphire dragon halted at the beginning of a pounce and dangled from the ceiling by his hind legs. Through the dust Vaer could barely make out the sight of his mouth moving, but his ears were still full of bells.
”I can’t hear you, you paranoid fool,” he growled, shaking his head rapidly.
Iolaxarkis’s voice returned to the inside of his head. Piss off, Vaervarlosvoraxion, I take no counsel today! —He swung his foreclaws back up to the ceiling, hunched up, and launched himself at Vaer.
”If you would just listen,” Vaer yowled as he slithered around to face the exit, bashing his face against the wall in the process, and took off running. Iolaxarkis’s claws scraped down his hips. He whipped his tail around and caught his friend in the face, narrowly escaping the teeth that snapped shut in its wake.
I will listen to you beg forgiveness, Iolaxarkis roared. The ringing abated enough to hear his actual roar as well. He lunged again and briefly caught Vaer by the base of the tail. Vaer cursed, rolled rapidly to break free, and kicked Iolaxarkis in the snout as he stood and sped back off again.
Vaer managed to gain some ground after that. With no choice but to trust his gut and memory, he barreled down the tunnels at breakneck speed. The sharpened shapes of the crystal tunnel came into view with just enough time to curse loudly about it before there were a thousand little gems biting into his feet and clawing at his shanks and wings. A sapphire dragon could run across these as lightly as a spider. There was no time to pick his way through this tunnel, so instead he willed himself to shrink and change, taking the form of a swift-winged bat and fluttering for all he was worth.
It cost him his headstart all the same, though. Just as Vaer burst out into the four-way chamber and erupted back into his natural form, Iolaxarkis pounced from the ceiling again. An ear-splittingly high-pitched shriek from behind him splintered gems and shattered rock in a rapid line across the exit cavern. By instinct Vaervalosvoraxion careened away. Two choices left. Spiders or drow. Drow would have weapons. Killing Iolaxarkis’s minions would only anger him worse. Spiders it was.
The webs clung to his scales and sent his blindsight into disarray. No help for it, he had to get distance between them. So he flung himself down the slope through layers of silk, occasionally stepping on spiders or worse, suffering them skittering across his body as he accidentally picked them up with their webs. The scent of soil caught his nostrils and he pushed himself harder, legs burning, all but blind, but soil meant an exit and it had to be close and—
One by one, his galloping feet hit a slick, crystalline stretch of floor that took his weight for just a split second before shattering like flimsy glass, dropping Vaer into an unknown darkness below.
Vaer’s head hurt. His wings, tail, and toes hurt. He stood, shook off a layer of rock shards, and looked around. The pit he’d fallen into had walls too slick to climb, and a ceiling that was both too high to reach on his back legs and too short to fly to. And way up at the top, peering down smugly, was Iolaxarkis.
Vaer’s tail lashed. “Clever trap,” he called as his friend began to slither down the chute. “The spiders are the perfect cover for the false floor.”
“Do you truly think flattery will win you a reprieve for intruding on my sanctum?” Iolaxarkis growled.
Vaer backed up until his haunches hit the wall. Gods, Iolax was impossible when he got like this—in the grips of one of these paranoid fits he always seemed to forget how well they got along otherwise. “You know I have no designs on your lair or your hoard, Iolaxarkis, I only came to talk.”
“Your defenses are pathetic! Have you no nightmares to spew at me, Vaervalosvoraxion?” He dropped into the pit and loomed tall, wings spread to take up as much space as he could. “Come, show me fear and I shall conquer it!”
”I have no desire to fight you!” Vaer yowled as his friend barreled into him. With three decades and hundreds of pounds on Vaer, Iolaxarkis made short work of slamming him to the ground and all but standing on him to pin him to the ground. Panicking just a little, Vaer curled his neck to defend his throat, and cried out in alarm as Iolaxarkis’s teeth closed around the back of his neck instead.
Then surrender, Iolaxarkis growled in his mind.
Vaer scrabbled at the ground, twisting and writhing like a seized snake, but only managed to get his hips up. He hoisted his tail for leverage—then hissed an inhale as the motion slid their bellies together.
Iolaxarkis startled minutely and chuckled around his mouthful of neck. OH, is THAT what you’re after.
With threatening teeth around his spine, Vaer’s mind went blank for the moment it took for Iolaxarkis to shift around to stand atop him, seize his hips, and pull them up to meet his own. The gears in his head began to turn again at the touch of a hot, slick cock to his vent. To his credit, Iolaxarkis paused there, only touching, leaving a pregnant pause between them in which he could resist. He was a bit of a bastard, but not the kind of bastard who would force himself on someone. And Vaer should resist. Shouldn't he? They were both drakes; this would hurt. Iolaxarkis would view this as a victory for some silly reason or another and he’d never hear the end of it.
And yet. That wet, teasing touch was tantalizing.
They'd known each other since before they were old enough to think of such things. The last decade had seen that change. He was certainly thinking of it now.
With a full-body shiver, Vaer pushed back.
Good choice, Iolaxarkis crooned.
He rocked forward and his cock slid in between the scales of Vaer’s vent with shocking ease. A thrill of pleasure zipped up his spine as Iolax entered him. The noise that burst from his mouth—a rattling bugle of sorts—startled him; he clapped his claws over the end of his snout. He'd never made that sound before. What in hell—
So that's what the mating cry of a deep dragon sounds like, Iolaxarkis purred in his mind. Outwardly, he let out a cry of his own: a deep, sonorous song that dipped rapidly from low and mournful notes to a high trumpet and back. Its echoes through the tunnels made it seem like the rock itself was singing. In the midst of this distraction, the tip of Iolaxarkis's cock kissed a deeper, heretofore-untouched barrier and stole Vaer's breath a second time. The pointed end of his prick felt around for Vaer's cloacal muscle and pushed it open, sliding in through that resisting inner ring—not without some pain.
"Wait," Vaer panted, pulling his hips forward nervously; but his friend only gripped him harder and pushed up to chase him with shallow thrusts that fed his cock into Vaer's body too many inches at a time. It burned, but…gods it felt good, too, and that mating bugle tore its way out of him again and again the deeper Iolaxarkis penetrated him. His friend's cock was thick and long, slick and hot like a tongue, and it rippled within him like one, too. It was magnificently wet and only made wetter by the spurts of precome Iolaxarkis shot up into him. It slid hard against his own cock where it laid tucked up inside him and sent new thrills up his spine. As if reading his mind (and well he might have been) Iolaxarkis angled his thrusts just right to hit the most sensitive spots inside Vaer's body. The pleasure was maddening and the pain—the pain only lasted as long as it took for the seams of their vents to meet. That was when Iolaxaris really laid into him.
His friend’s claws dug painfully into his hide but didn’t pierce it, nor did his teeth pierce the scales of Vaer’s neck, but they held him in place beneath the larger dragon all the same. Not that he wanted to leave now. Vaer rolled his hips back and groaned as their cocks rubbed against each other inside him. His back claws scratched and scrabbled at the cavern floor trying to push back to meet the thrusts that came deeper and faster and harder now. His tail coiled around Iolax's like a snake climbing a tree. Every pump of Iolax's hips was so intense it left Vaer dizzy and desperate for the next. He never would have expected his body to accept being fucked so readily, but perhaps this was just another way in which his flesh obeyed his will.
“Yes yes yes,” Vaer grunted, over and over between mating cries, and “Harder” and “Please” and “Fuck me!” His own cock, stirred to life by relentless rubbing, plumped up and dropped down to hang out of his vent. He soon realized that this made his vent a much tighter hole—and made Iolax’s cock feel utterly immense as it pounded into him.
Iolax bit harder, spewing the filthiest words Vaer had ever heard directly into his mind, only interrupted here and there by his own songlike calls. His foreclaws scratched and clutched Vaer’s hips harder as he fucked him ferociously, mercilessly…tirelessly. Blinding pleasure ripped up Vaer’s spine in crashing waves and his hips rolled back against each swift and brutal thrust, making his straining cock slap against his belly.
Their mating cries echoed through the tunnels and chambers of Iolaxarkis’s lair. Hot, slick fluid dripped from Vaer’s vent and cock as Iolax fucked deep into his hole. They snarled and groaned and slammed their bodies together in frantic coupling. Vaer didn’t give a shit if Iolaxarkis got smug over this. He didn’t care about the slight of being called Good hen as Iolax told him to take it again and again. No physical pleasure had ever come close to how good this was. This ecstasy had no equal. At least not yet; a growing pressure in the pit of his belly made itself known, and drove him to paw at his own cock in a bid for more friction. But he was in no hurry to come, and neither, it seemed, was Iolaxarkis.
The stamina of dragons was the stuff of legend. More seldom sung of was their sexual endurance. Iolaxarkis fucked Vaer senseless for more than an hour straight, never faltering in his relentless, dominating pace even as Vaer grew so wound up on the pleasure of taking his cock that he offered full submission. When he curled his chin down to his chest in surrender, Iolax praised him for it, though he too sounded crazed by that point, and licked Vaer’s neck as much as he bit it then.
Slowly, deliciously driven mad by how deep and hard and long he was getting fucked, Vaer finally begged, “Please—please—make me come, I want to come!”
Come on my cock then, Iolax commanded with delight—and somehow rallied strength to fuck Vaer’s hole even harder, slamming into him with such force that it threw Vaer’s chest to the ground. Vaer cried out; he squeezed and stroked at his cock with his foreclaw, grinding his hips back, and at long last found a new pinnacle of ecstasy: reaching the white-hot peak of orgasm with another drake pounding him into the floor. Hot come splashed hard against the stone and sluiced up to drench his own belly scales. From experience he reckoned that puddle would grow quite large by the time his cock stopped spurting a long while after. And he had the thought, Fuck, I hope he comes for ages too just before Iolax let out a bellow, slammed his cock as deep as it would reach inside him, and shuddered through an orgasm of his own. That first shot sprayed his insides sharply enough to feel, and it filled Vaer with a deep, dark satisfaction.
Iolaxarkis relaxed and got more comfortable on top of him; he still had Vaer skewered on the great, thick length of his cock, and it still strained over and over as Iolax continued to pump smaller shots of come into Vaer’s hungering guts. Vaer's own length jumped with each ejaculation. Driven by instinct, the drakes craned their necks to groom each other while one bred the other full of hot, thick seed, drifting through the lesser ecstasy of their protracted coming.
What was it, Vaer wondered idly, that made this so pleasurable? He'd fretted about it hurting, and yes, he was sore, but nothing like what he'd feared. Like any true dragon, he had a natural talent for shapeshifting; had his body subconsciously adjusted itself to make the experience more pleasant, or was getting fucked by another drake this good au naturel? He turned his awareness inward, focusing on his cloaca and hindgut where Iolaxarkis kept him spread open and stuffed to the brim. Nothing felt different there. Perhaps this was the gods' gift to drakes willing to receive another. He let the thought scatter like a cloud of bats and basked in delicious sensation.
Every now and then, through the long, long moments they remained locked up—well over an hour this time—Iolaxarkis pumped his hips a little, and it made Vaer purr in pleasure. A new, different pressure grew slowly within Vaer: the unfamiliar but marvelous sensation of his belly filling up with semen. Thick ridges near the base of Iolax’s cock acted as a stopper to hold his come inside, so with nowhere else to go, it flooded Vaer’s intestines and made him feel full like he never had before. By the time they both stopped ejaculating, his belly was soaked on the outside and pleasantly tight on the inside.
“I almost don’t want you to pull out,” Vaervalosvoraxion sighed.
Iolaxarkis chuckled and deigned to speak with his mouth this time. “I won’t have a choice soon, my friend. You like getting filled to the brim, do you?”
Oh, so now it was "friend" again. No sense in not counting it as a blessing. Vaer stretched his foreclaws like a great purple cat. “It feels exquisite. Like I’ve eaten an entire aboleth in one sitting. You should try it sometime.”
“When you can wrestle me down,” Iolax laughed just above him, “I will. But I doubt that day will come. You are not much of a fighter.”
Vaer rolled his eyes. “Your loss, my gain.”
Iolax grew quiet for a moment, then nosed at Vaer's neck. With a gentleness that belied how furiously he'd started this little encounter he asked, “Did I hurt you much?”
“Slightly,” Vaer admitted, “but I think I liked getting thrown around a little. Truth be told I’ve never felt better.” He cocked an eye up at his friend. “This wasn’t actually what I came here for, but at least now I know how to handle these moods of yours.”
Iolax snorted. “You know better than to test me, Vaervalosvoraxion. Now I know how easily you can be defeated.”
Vaer’s tail flicked around and slid up and down Iolax's. “Is it defeat if I get what I want out of it?” He smirked up at Iolax and let his voice drop. “You enjoy the chase, and I think you enjoyed knocking me around. If I were to run, and you hunted me through your halls like prey until you could seize me, throw me down, fuck me within an inch of madness, and bloat my belly with your come like a hen in season, do you think I wouldn’t have gotten my way too? Do you think I wouldn’t come back for more of that again and again?”
Iolax shivered and growled. The crystals that floated above his spine stood on end as he leaned in close. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to teach you another lesson.”
So sturbborn. Before Vaer could respond, Iolax’s cock softened, and its retreat from Vaer’s body back into his own was followed by a gush of come from Vaer’s vent. Both dragons groaned. He did his best to clench his hole back shut in hopes of keeping most of that mess inside. It was comfortably hot and pleasantly squishy-feeling; the sensation of all that fluid sloshing around inside him was delightful.
“But has your mood improved, at least?” he asked finally.
Iolax—who had not bothered to dismount yet but instead remained lying on top of Vaer—looked away for a moment. Just as telling was the thumping of the tip of his tail. The grumpy bastard would probably rather die than admit that Vaer was right. That was fine. Vaer could feel smug about it anyway. Such was the dynamic they shared.
“You should rest, because you are weak,” Iolax said instead of answering the question, “and then there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
It wasn’t so much a suggestion as a declaration. Iolax sprawled out on top of Vaer, clearly intent on resting also—some part possessive, some part protective, some part making sure he didn’t wander off on his own. It was nice. His company was pleasant when he wasn't in one of his antisocial spells, and it came as a relief to see him calmed down enough to return to his normal (if egotistical) self. Vaer stretched again, muttered a quick spell to vanish the sticky mess beneath himself, and relaxed beneath the hot weight of his friend’s body as best he could.
The nature of a subterranean creature is to feel at his most secure when he is wedged somewhere. It came as no surprise to Vaer, then, that he dozed easily caught between cold, hard rock and the crushing weight of a larger dragon and woke up contented. Still sore, yes, and wet where more of laxarkis's come had leaked out of him in his sleep, but alongside the soreness was also a lingering sense of accomplishent left over from his climax. Something new and delightful had opened up between them—a fun new activity to enjoy with his friend on their visits, and a pleasant new way to avoid getting his ass kicked when he caught Iolax in an unsociable state. Perhaps this tactic might work on other dragons as well, as a form of negotiation or show of camaraderie. Vaer resolved to use this to his advantage as often as possible.
He let his mind drift in silent contemplation of future couplings until Iolaxakis stirred on top of him, stretched, yawned, and stepped off.
"I don't imagine you can get back up from here on your own," he grunted, gesturing to the hole above them with his snout.
Vaer's tail flicked. "Up, no, but I can burrow."
"Don't. Come, stand in the center; I can lift you out."
Vaer figured he meant he'd carry him physically, but instead Iolax clambered up the wall and through the chute like a gecko on glass, leaving him behind for the moment. Iolax peered back down and produced a low hum from his entire body. With a quiet squawk of surprise, Vaer's body became weightless—lifted by psychic force—and rose up, up, up into the spider-filled tunnel before his weight returned to him. A sapphire dragon's tricks were as useful and convenient as ever.
Vaer bowed his head in thanks. "You mentioned a meeting."
"Yes! It's high time I made introductions, now that they are settled. Come, this way."
Unfortuntately that meant back through the spiderwebs. It was no more pleasant the second time around, and their slower pace meant a lot more horrible, spindly little legs touched him along the way. Back in the four-way intersection Vaer clawed at and fussed over himself to remove sticky patches and strands of silk from his scales. Iolaxarkis, of course, did not offer to help, but merely watched in amusement—somehow completely free of webbing himself.
Their path from there was just as Vaer had suspected: down a long, winding tunnel that carried the scent of dark elves. At one point the tunnel seemed to come to a dead end, but Iolax walked through it without hesitation: an illusion. They came to a sheer drop that Iolaxarkis climbed down with the same ease. The cliff was too slick for Vaer to risk, not having the wall-walking talent his friend enjoyed, and instead had to glide down while braking hard with his wings.
Something caught Vaer's eye at the bottom: a large, oblong altar stained with blood. That answered the question of whether Iolaxarkis's little cult was the sort to leave sacrifices for him. A murmur of voices and a dim glow of light awaited them further on.
At last they arrived at the mouth of a great cavern dotted with lanterns glowing blue, green, and purple. They stood on a platform before a smaller, more ornate altar with carved steps descending into the cavern, and beyond that—a small settlement of drow.
Perhaps two dozen dark elves were already within sight: some running weapons drills, some repairing armor, others busy with other little mortal tasks. As soon as one of them caught sight of the dragons, a shout went up, and with eerie coordination the elves gave a single, great STOMP and cried, "Hail Iolaxarkis!" in Undercommon.
The call summoned more from their elegant stone buildings, and they crowded close, eyes glittering in awe at Iolax and with wariness at Vaer. Around fifty of them gathered and craned their heads, attentive.
"My people," Iolaxarkis said in Undercommon, projecting his voice, "today we are graced with the presence of a compatriot of mine. It is my pleasure to introduce to you Vaervalosvoraxion of the Deep Flight, enemy of our enemies. Know that he stands here by my will and assent. Vaervalosvoraxion, I present to you Iolaxrym, my devoted."
The crowd answered with another unified STOMP. It was impressive and creepy in equal measures.
Not quite certain what he was meant to say, Vaer spoke anyway, addressing the cultists in their language: "Greetings, people of Iolaxrym. I have come from many leagues away to visit your master, my friend. We share many goals and his counsel and company have always proved rewarding. If you serve him then your aims are mine as well."
"Indeed," Iolaxarkis rumbled. He shifted to stand behind and to one side of Vaervalozvoraxion. "Witness now, you who have stomach for it, how he serves me—see how he submits to my will!"
"What—"
Before Vaer could say another word, Iolax mounted him, crowding their hips together and bearing down with all his weight, and bit the back of his neck. Vaer didn't fight it, but he did whip his head around to give Iolax a wild-eyed look and hissed in Draconic, "Really? Here? In front of mortals?"
Feel free to resist, Iolax said in his head, sounding as smug as he'd ever been. You did say you enjoyed getting roughed up.
Vaer growled about it, but once again the first wet touch of Iolaxarkis's cock to his vent made want flare brightly through him, so he shifted his back feet farther apart and lifted his tail out of the way. The opinions of mortals weren't his concern anyway.
His claws dug into the stone as Iolax penetrated him again. They both let out guttural growls of pleasure as the sapphire dragon's thick, tapered cock forced its way deep inside Vaer's hole until their vents met, and as he had before, Iolaxarkis wasted no time in battering that hole with violent abandon. Their mating calls echoed much more in this larger cavern.
Below them, many of the elves had averted their eyes, but a good number watched hungrily and even crowded closer to watch the dragons fuck. The sharp scent of humanoid arousal wafted upward. Vaer's nostrils flared as he took that in, but his mind was too preoccupied with how excquisite Iolax's thick cock felt against his own and how wanton the feeling of being filled up and fucked hard made him to examine his own reaction to that smell. Before long, he grew hard enough for his cock to drop; a few of the drow paced around to the side of the platform to witness that with wide eyes and hands palming their groins. To be stared at with such open lust was a new experience for Vaer—and not an unwelcome one, he found.
"Do they like what they see?" he growled to Iolax.
Oh I think they do. Why wouldn't they? They are blessed to see their master dominate another dragon. Iolax hoisted Vaer's hips up higher, sending his cock bobbing and swaying beneath him. They see how you enjoy it. How you want it. They envy you the privilege of taking my cock.
Vaer chuckled breathlessly. "Do you fuck them too?"
Iolax snorted. No. Some of them wish I would. That one especially. The tall male with the torn ear. I've listened to his thoughts. Do you want to know what he's thinking?
Vaer bucked back hard and nodded, fully lost in the moment. "Tell me."
He's imagining himself in your place. How good it must feel to be my hen. He's wondering how deep my cock is reaching inside you. And he's thinking about your cock, too, how it would feel in his hands…in his mouth…in his hole. He slowed his thrusts to give them greater depth and force, slamming into Vaer's body so hard he had to scrabble to not get scooted along the stone. Vaer's roar melded seamlessly into another warbling mating cry. Do you want to be my proxy cock, Vaervalosvoraxion? Do you want to see my minions' devotion?
"Yes," Vaer gasped, barely able to spare a thought for what was about to come. This was swiftly moving into advanced territory, but truth be told, he would have agreed to nearly anything.
Without pausing his brutal thrusts for a moment, Iolaxarkis released Vaer's neck and turned his gaze on his cultists. "Alaktel. Your desires are no secret to me. Come and serve your master."
The elf in question looked poleaxed for a moment before hurrying up the steps. A murmur rippled through the rest of the gathered crowd as he kneeled before the rutting dragons. His voice was hoarse when he asked, "How may I serve?"
Vaer glanced back at Iolax with drooping eyes and met his gaze for an instant; but Iolax spoke to the drow instead. "I want him to come while I fuck him. See to it that he does, by whatever means you see fit."
From the look on his face, this was now the best day of Alaktel's life. Under both drakes' keen gaze he took stock of the tableau before him before peeling off his armor and clothing, then returning to kneel beside Vaer's knee. He rested one tentative hand on Vaer's flank, let out a shuddering sigh, and reached his other hand down to slide just as nervous a grip down the length of his cock.
Vaer coughed out a cry and bucked his hips. The elf's hand was dry but so, so soft, so unlike the textured scales of his own foreclaw. His cock bounced out of its grip only to be recaptured a moment later in a surer hold that was soon joined by the other hand. The dryness was uncomfortable but Vaer's shaft exuded enough protective lubricant that soon those hands were as slick as they were smooth and deft. The elf cupped the leaf-shaped head in both hands and massaged it and Vaer's eyes nearly crossed. Dear gods, maybe he needed to get a cult of his own—!
The unhurried node of warmth in his belly that promised eventual orgasm flared into something savage and demanding. Casting wild eyes around, many, perhaps not most, of the drow were still gathered close to watch their master fuck him. Here and there they traded manual favors without taking their eyes off the drakes. If Vaervalosvoraxion had been at all uneasy about being stared at by humanoids that unease shattered under the firm, eager touch of their volunteer.
The elf—Alaktel—met his gaze with a look that was hungry but seemed to have a question behind it.
"Something wrong, little one?" Vaer managed to grunt.
Alaktel hesitated, now back to long strokes, before asking quietly, "Can I get beneath you, Honored One?"
Vaer purred, shuffled his back feet for leverage, and pushed up under Iolax's weight. Iolax purred back in approval—the new angle made it that much easier for him to ravage Vaer's vent as deep as his cock could go. And the elf—
He had to rest his head on the ground facing backwards to see what the elf was up to: he got down on all fours beneath Vaer's belly, grasped Vaer's cock, and guided it to—
Vaer howled as the force of Iolax's thrusts made his cock slide into the elf's tight, blazing-hot little body. Alaktel howled, too.
The tightness and heat were beyond description. He raked furrows into the stone with his foreclaws. His head and wings thrashed; his tail coiled tighter around Iolax's. Speechless with pleasure, his mating cry rattled from his throat, and the fire in his belly roared, and roared, and roared. Alaktel braced himself with one hand on each of Vaer's forelegs as he shuddered through receiving nearly all of Vaer's cock in short order. Vaer shook and tensed in denial of an instinct to seize the elf's hips and pound the daylights out of him—if it didn't kill the poor thing it would injure him at least, and Iolax would be furious if Vaer broke one of his toys. But gods above and devils below, giving and taking at the same time robbed him of all but that scrap of reason, and he felt incandescent.
He couldn't be sure how long they went on like this, Iolax fucking Vaer and Vaer fucking the drow; but he very definitely did not last as long as he would have if he'd only had his own claw. As his breath came deeper and quicker, Iolaxarkis growled filthy words of encouragement into his mind. Something about the fact that they had an audience but Iolax's words were for him and him alone made it intimate, and that intimacy filled him with avarice and pride. Letting Iolax move his body with the force of his thrusts, Vaer came, bellowing loudly enough that he nearly missed the wail of the elf coming beneath him. For the first time he filled another body with his seed. The last thing he would have expected that partner to be was a mortal.
And so they remained for—quite a while, perhaps. He groaned and purred from time to time, and the drow moaned and whimpered beneath his chest, and he twisted and twined his tail around Iolax's flirtatiously as the larger dragon took his time about reaching his own peak. Vaer shivered and sighed when Iolax finally unloaded his first gout of come into his guts. He braced himself to get squished beneath his friend's weight again—but Iolaxarkis had the presence of mind to maintain his balance, so as to not crush his cultist beneath them both.
For Alaktel's part, he got squirmy as Vaer loaded him up with thick, hot come, and he panted loudly, groaning and hissing now and then. It was after Iolaxarkis had started coming that his groans took on a pained note; finally he babbled out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't, there's too much, I can't—" —and pitched forward to crawl in between Vaer's forelegs, sliding off his cock with a wet slurp and a cascade of come.He collapsed onto his side, groaning and holding his distended belly.
Vaer was in a sanguine enough mood at the time to nuzzle the elf's sweat-damp neck and hair. "What do you think," he rumbled, "are you going. to produce an egg for me?"
The elf peered up at him. "Permission to speak freely?"
"I've just been inside you, I think you've earned that."
He reached up to pat Vaer's snout, clumsy and kitten-weak. "For the sake of my asshole I sure hope not."
Vaer and Iolax both chuckled dryly. Together they settled down as best they could without harming the cultist and rode out this last phase of their coupling. Below their platform, the rest of the cult lounged as well; they had taken up quiet conversation once the dragons became more or less stationary. One had a parchment out and looked to be drawing or painting the display. Dimly, part of Vaer rather felt like that was invasive, but what did it really matter when an entire village had just watched him get the daylights fucked out of him—for the most part he didn't care. As long as they properly captured his magnificence, it was fine.
His gut grew tighter and tighter the more come Iolax pumped into him. Eventually it was enough to become actual discomfort. Luckily, having fucked him once already a short while ago, it wasn't much longer past that point that his friend's cock ran dry and withdrew. The immediate cascade of dragon come that poured out of Vaer's vent felt like the release of a pressure valve.
Alaktor took the opportunity to stand, shakily, groaning. Thick white fluid ran freely down his thighs. He didn't seem at all bothered by this fact. "Did I please you, Master?"
"You performed admirably," Iolax rumbled. "You are dismissed."
The elf touched Vaer's snout and whispered a thank-you to him before collecting his effects and toddling back off into the crowd.
Settling halfway on his flank beside Vaer, Iolax magicked the mess off himself and asked in Draconic, "Now that you've been properly introduced to the tribe, what did you come here for, Vaervalosvoraxion?"
Vaer opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and tried again. "Would you believe I forgot?"
"You forgot?!" Iolax barked.
Vaer's tail lashed. "It's not my fault, you've been very distracting. I'm sure it will come to me."
"I don't know why I tolerate you."
"I'm your favorite," Vaer said cheekily.
Iolax met his gaze with a hungry flame in his eyes. "If that wasn't true before, it is now."
Vaer shivered a little, pleasantly, but held his tongue.
"I am worn out. We will rest again now, and when we're rested you'd better have an answer for me one way or the other."
Risking yet another moment of cheek, Vaer stretched his long neck out to lick the tip of Iolax's snout. "You know I would never let you down."
Iolax snorted and reared back, but as he laid his head down, there was a clear fondness in his eyes that Vaer knew from the times when he was more sociable. "Yes. I know."
end.