“Fuck…” Varis flailed himself awake with a breathless gasp as his cock still throbbed, ample pulses of spend sticking his cloth to his lap and softening cock. “How the…”
He’d not had a wet dream since he was a springling, and there he was humping air and spending himself raw over a dream where he didn’t even get a finger inside him. “Fuuuuuuuck.”
Varis sat up and tugged at his clothes before glaring at the seabird above as it stared at him with boggled eyes pointing in two different directions.
“Fuck you! Shit-spreading sky rat!” Varis sneered as the thing followed its namesake, shat a white mess over a mast, and fluttered off with its excrement dripping onto the stained deck below. “And now for a swim…”
Varis slid from his hiding spot and strode to the edge of the ship before diving in. He shook his hips a little extra to wash the filth from his rags. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to pollute the bay, but he still hated it.
When he climbed from the ship and shook his head, water glistened as it flew about. The aforementioned sky rat screeched at him, its off-center eyes trying to focus.
Varis glanced around, locating the rusted pulley of a rope nearby. He lobbed it at the feathered gremlin. “Fuck off! Godsdamned sky peasant offal-mongers.”
Golden men consumed his mind for the day as he foraged the ships and found a mostly legible book. With daylight still abundant, he lay back beneath the shade of a fallen sail and read until he dozed once more.
Chapter Five
Ghreid
Something moved in the rubble of the ships—vermin or animal? He couldn’t tell as he made his flight that evening. His Wyvern, Platinum, had seemed interested in landing, but until he had clearance from Monsmount, he couldn’t do anything. Technically, for a kilometer in every direction from the shoreline, the land was independent of Monsmount. The ships lay just beyond that boundary, and no country had claim, which meant lots of paperwork.
“Rydel?” Ghreid tapped his quill on his ink blotter, pondering the correct words to say. Of course, the king of Monsmount needed to give his permission, in coordination with their merchant’s guild—because money was power. And money had always been a dragon’s favorite thing.
Except for Falustus. His favorite thing since he hit puberty was dick. His own, others’… It didn’t matter.
“Yes, my lord?” Rydel glanced up from his secretary desk nearby, head tilted and ready to listen.
“I saw some flags among the wreckage. Could you please write the nations of Kaliman, Turok, and Rammolia? I saw wreckage from them all. I will have the spoils documented and returned if they make arrangements. Manifests will be reported to them and, optionally, their merchants’ guilds.” Ghreid yawned as he penned the letters, working into the night until Rydel stood, giving him a polite bow.
Ghreid glanced over as Rydel neatly stacked his papers. “I find myself exhausted, sir. You should sleep as well. I will retire for the night and perhaps catch up on my sleep in the morning if you can see fit to not have need for me.”
Ghreid would work the poor male into the grave if he didn’t speak up, so Ghreid rewarded his request with a nod. “I have nothing pressing until afternoon. Just have those letters out before the end of day.”
“Yes, sir.” Rydel bowed once more and excused himself while Ghreid followed suit. Without an attendant, his work would be hampered. Sleep sounded good.
Ghreid walked to his new room, stripping his clothes as he stared at the nestbox he’d brought with him. Luxurious colored silks covered his bedding; pillows with satin finish and handwoven fringe decorated the masses.
He loved his parents’ nest when he was a child, the opulence of it, the mix of colors that his Rammolian mother loved to swim in, as color was a mark of opulence and wealth for them. His own nest echoed that with the bright colors that complemented his own gold.
Sliding into his nest was a luxury that few would ever know. The comfort that enveloped him was insurmountable, swallowing him up with the fading scent of home still infused within. He inhaled deeply, catching that soured scent wafting in from outside. The sanitation teams couldn’t be moved fast enough for his liking.
As his eyes closed, he settled into the blankets and yawned, drifting into a carnal dream where another invaded his nest, his skin a glorious melding of violet scales, not like Lapryda’s but their own royal color. And beyond that, his mind couldn’t comprehend the complex patterns, only the dark hair, the reddish-brown skin well-sunned, brickish unlike his father’s leathery tones that made the soft-hued tan of his own flesh.
Ghreid found himself locked in lust, riding the mind of another, hand moving to grasp his cock and stroke, the other being stroking his cock as well. And with a beautiful song ofpleasure, Ghreid woke, spilling over his golden hand while his knot filled futilely.
It took him a long few minutes to realize what he’d done. Fortunately, he’d not spilled in the bed itself, so he carefully maneuvered out to find a hand towel to wipe himself down. And as he did so, his gaze drew out toward the sea, the stacks in the distance calling him. It was strange, such a specific dream, and riding in the mind of another…
“My mate,” he growled, and instantly knew his purpose in being there. Fate had put the mission upon Ghreid to enrich the nationandhimself.
He took a deep breath, ran fingers through his hair, and strode to his office to retrieve the letters. He wouldn’t wake Rydel. The messages needed to be sent faster. He finished off the letters, sealed them, and ordered several of his retinue to take flight on their wyverns. He needed answers as soon as possible.
Chapter Six
Ghreid
It’d been three days since he sent word to the neighboring nations, and he’d gotten clearance back from only Monsmount—which they had no legal grounds to deny him. And even if they did, they’d permit it because their debt hung precariously in the balance of Saurian generosity.
Their permission, granted, gave him clemency to do as he pleased, he supposed. And his dreams grew by the day, driving him insane, more and more by the day. Every footfall in the crowded estate had his shoulders twitching and jaw clenching.
