Suddenly, I feel something warm. It starts at my back, a gentle heat that spreads through my body, soothing the pain and the panic. It wraps around me, a comforting presence that makes the terror fade. It's nice, so very nice. I lean into it, letting the warmth calm me. For a moment, I almost forget where I am.
Then reality comes crashing back. I'm not falling anymore. I'm being held. The warmth is a body, and I'm pressed against it. My cheeks heat up with embarrassment, and I'm grateful for my dark skin hiding the flush.
Sensation returns to the rest of my body, and I realize I'm being spooned against a soft belly with smooth, velvety skin. My heart plummets as I crane my head back and see Drasuk.
"Get the fornicate off me," I yelp, struggling to break free.
Instead, he pulls me closer, cradling me against his underbelly with a tight grip around my waist. His other hand is hovering over my shoulder, as if he's completely fine with dragon-handling me like a jerk but isn't sure if he should touch me there.
My throat is still raw from the dream, and now my chest is filled with my rage at being confined.
20
Drasuk
The sound of her ragged breathing fills the silence. I have her held close, so she doesn't hurt herself as she thrashes out the rest of her fear.
My other hand instinctively reaches out, hovering over her trembling form. It's a strange sensation, the urge to comfort a creature so small and fragile. She's barely the size of my two legs, all sharp edges and delicate bones.
Hesitantly, I lower my hand, placing it gently on her shoulder. The warmth radiating from her skin sends a jolt through me, an urge that clashes with the tenderness I feel for her in this vulnerable state.
There's a morbid fascination in the way I hold her, a creature so easily broken cradled against me. The feeling is... unsettling, yet oddly comforting at the same time.
"Fornicator with mother. I didn't say you could touch me," she yelps, trying, and failing to scramble away from me as fast as her tangled limbs allow.
I can't help but snort, a deep rumbling sound that shakes the leaves around us.
"After so many invitations? You are obsessed with fornication. Are you that desperate for young?" I tease, the absurdity of the situation momentarily pushing aside the burning ember within me.
Her cheeks flare deep red, an interesting counterpoint to the pale moonlight filtering through the leaves onto her bright hair.
"No. Why would you say that? I keep telling you to leave," she grumbles, her voice still laced with a tremor of fear.
"Females only fornicate for young," I state, more to myself than to her.
It's a fact ingrained in my very being, a law as old as time from our early days on our original lava-strewn planet.
"What the fiery pit in the ground. That is complete food excrement.Bullshit. Women can fornicate any time they want. As much as they want," she sputters, her voice rising in pitch with every word.
"Fornicate that excrement."
I can't help but raise my forehead spines at her outburst.
Then what she's saying sinks in. The concept of females seeking pleasure for her own sake is certainly an alien concept, though not without precedence, of course.
Drakonid females are majestic creatures, aloof and powerful. They tolerate our advances during breeding cycles, but the act itself is a duty, a means to ensure the continuation of our lineage.
The thought of a female initiating such an act for her own gratification is... well, frankly, absurd.
Something for venom beasts, and, it seems, humans.
"Any time?" I repeat, the question rolling off my tongue before I can stop it.
Part of me is appalled, and another part disturbingly intrigued.
Might this explain my errant arousal? It's suspiciously like my odd obsession with Nkisa, which extended beyond a desire for hatchlings into something I never truly understood, beyond knowing it was unacceptable.
My hide shifts in shame, but I don't let her go.
