anon and anonymous (european mythology and etc) created by welden (artist)
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SHORT STORY - Rite of age (NSFW)

In your clan, slaying a dragon is a well-established rite of age.

Now in your early-twenties, you can't help but feel embarrassed at having still not "become a man" in the eyes of your community. To be fair, most of that humiliation is imposed upon you by your peers. The gay jokes are what bother you the most—not because you aren't, you are definitely at least a little bit gay, but it's not because you haven't slayed a dragon!

You sigh as you meander through the countryside. Today's the day.

It's actually the best time of year for it, you'd overheard at the inn: mating season, because the dragons are far too busy with one-another to notice the sneaking footsteps of a swordsman before it's too late.

You do feel bad for doing it this way, especially with a species as friendly and beautiful as ground dragons, but such is the way of nature.

It'll be easy, you muse, miming your sword as you walk, feeling its heft guide your hand as the blade cuts through dense air. You'll just find an empty cave with a good hiding spot, wait for a pair of dragons to use it as an impromptu bedroom, then once the male is spent and after the female departs, you will do what needs to be done.

Again, you feel bad for doing it like this, but at least you'll be able to make it quick.

Encroaching upon the mountains, you begin to hear a far-off symphony of howling dragons. Their caves are like megaphones, projecting all sorts of interesting sounds towards you. You pause for a moment to take it all in; even as a human, it's almost sensual to hear so much pleasure taking place all around you.

As you continue trekking, the howling only grows more intense. A concern wells within you: if it's already this loud from so far away, how loud is it going to be when you're actually in the cave, just feet away from the dragons?

Wait a minute, what are you thinking? Won't they be able to smell you in the cave?

With this realization, your brisk pace winds down to a halt.

What are you doing out here? You've known in your heart all day that none of this is ethical. And even if it was, what do you care about slaying a dragon?

You know you're about to turn back—feeling more relieved than anything else, frankly—but before you do, you at least indulge yourself in listening to the sounds in the air for a bit longer. After all, it's probably the closest you'll ever get to seeing a real dragon.

Eventually, you spin around on a heel. Just like that, you are now face-to-face with a—very large—orange dragon.

How long he's been tracking you like this, you have no clue. You hadn't even felt the sensation of being watched until now.

You feel your blood rush to your core; reflexively, your grip tightens around your sword. But all the dragon does in return is flash you a curious smile, unthreatened and unthreatening. His gaze is mellow, but his yellow eyes are piercing as he points them down at you. You feel strangely compelled to relax.

As if testing your reaction, a deft hand slides up beneath your shirt to caress your bare chest; you lean into it almost instinctively, feeling your heartbeat quicken against his palm.

He's very warm, and unexpectedly soft. The two of you stay like this for a minute, silently becoming acquainted through locked eyes, his hand placed flatly against your chest. You notice your heartbeat gradually returning to normal as you ease into this moment with him.

Once you both sense you've calmed down completely, the hand on your chest pushes you backwards—gently, though it's more than powerful enough to send you falling straight backwards onto the springy grass.

Just as soon as you realize you'd lost your shirt in the fall, you feel the coarse fabric of your pants slide down and away from your legs as well, leaving you completely exposed in the sprawling field.

For good measure, he firmly plants a large paw down onto the broad side of your sword, pinning it securely against the ground. Not that you were planning to use it anyways.

You pant audibly, your mind grappling to process this most-unexpected turn of events.

You get to look up at the pale blue sky for only a moment before the agile dragon fills your vision once again. Long limbs effortlessly walling you in from both sides, he looks down at you like prey, although you trust that he means you no harm. Still, you feel quite small with him looming over you like this.

After pausing for a moment to ire you, he lowers his head to yours and begins rolling firm, intentional licks across your face.

His slick tongue is strong enough to rock your head, gently lulling you into a steady rhythm.

He whines lightly, and you feel his hot breath cascade over your forehead and into your ears. You can't help but make your own noise in reply, which only coaxes him along.

With each ing second, you feel his licks pressing deeper against your cheeks, increasingly drawn-out, sometimes snaking their way in-between your lips.

And when they do, you can only moan louder. You find yourself in a sort of loop with him, over which you have no control.

Eventually, he seems to decide that your head is rocking back and forth too much, so he effortlessly slides his left hand underneath your upper back, breathing a particularly-deep exhale across your face as he does. You are now held firmly to the whims of his exploring tongue.

At the same time, you begin to feel something warm dribbling onto your stomach, dripping roughly in sync with his licks.

After a surprisingly-short while of this, your stomach is completely coated, slick and wet. Still, you are far too fixated on his eyes to even glance down at the source. All you know is that whatever you are feeling, it feels really good.

With his spare hand, he delicately tugs your arm to free the sword from your grasp. Captivated by the moment, you hadn't even realized you were still holding onto it.

Suddenly—and just as unexpectedly as everything else—he lifts your body tightly against his. He stands up tall, chest-to-chest with you, sighing as he adjusts your weight. Once he has you secured, he starts off at a brisk pace, carrying you off in the direction of the mountains.

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