The Dragon Shifter’s Babies

by T. S. Ryder

  And then she suddenly appears at my door at two in the morning, beating the door with her bare knuckles.

  “Who is it?” I ask, groggily getting out of bed.

  “It’s me,” she says. “Cyrene.”

  I recognize her voice instantly and walk calmly to the door. I can’t have her know that I am on to her game.

  “What do you want?” I ask gruffly.

  “I just came for my broom,” she says. She is wearing black pajamas—Black, the witch favorite. They don't choose it, it is in their nature. She looks tired, her eyes droopy like she is straight out of the bed.

  “Come in,” I say, hoping she would come in.

  “I have to be somewhere,” she says, tapping her foot impatiently. I fetch her broom and hand it to her.

  “Anything else,” I ask, yawning.

  “No,” she says. “And thanks,” she smiles, her teeth small, tiny, perfectly aligned. “Actually, yes,” she says, reaching into her purse.

  “Eh?”

  “There’s this fashion show, my first show,” she says. “Here’s a pass, come if you like,” she presses a pass into my hand. I caress the back of her hand with my thumb. “It’s my debut, actually.”

  “I will try to make it.”

  She turns around to leave and takes two steps, then pauses. I stand still in the door frame.

  “Oh heck,” she says, turning around, her arms wide open as she runs into me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her legs around my back. She clings to me with the same ache as I have for her. She parts her luscious lips and fixes them on mine.

  I carry her easily and turn back around, kick the door shut and take her to my bed. She is still clinging to me as we fall on the bed. She sits on top of me, my tongue exploring her mouth, her long fingers reaching under my tee, pushing it up. She breaks the kiss and tosses my shirt on the floor, then plasters a hard kiss on my lips again. She gets up, still straddling me and smacks her lips. I hook my finger into her tee shirt and pull, revealing the half moons of her beautiful breasts, heavy and pressed together, a sliver between them.

  She smiles. I grab her shirt and pull it over her head, then push her on her back and get on top. I know what she needs. She arches her neck and bites my lip. I grab her breasts, my fingers caressing her skin, my thumb twirling around her hard nipples. A moan escapes her lips.

  I kiss her on the mouth, on her neck, going down slowly, from her breasts to her stomach. I bite her pajama bottoms and pull it down. She pulls down her panties.

  “Whoa, easy there,” I say, pushing her hands back.

  Chapter Seven - Every Nook, Every Cranny

  Cyrene

  He plays with my knockers, his thumbs rubbing on my tits, as he hovers over me, exploring every nook and every cranny. His tongue sinks into my collarbone as he tastes my skin, breathing in my scent deeply. I want him inside me. He pulls down my pj's and I push down my panties.

  “Whoa, easy there,” he says, grabbing my hands by the wrists. He wants to be the alpha here. I just want him inside me. I want him to take me. I don’t care who is dominant right now. He pushes his finger into my mouth and I suck on it, my eyes closed, my body tense. Then he pushes the finger inside me, thrusting in and out gently. One finger, two fingers, three big fingers as my juices begin flowing. He lowers his head between my legs, exhales on my slightly haired pussy, then descends. I feel his wet tongue flicker around, tasting me again, making out with my pussy. He tongue-fucks me softly, devouring my pussy hungrily. I arch my back, my body pulsating as I open my eyes and see him going down on me. My eyes wander to the wall behind him, to the clock, to the time.

  “Holy fucking shit!”

  He moans without stopping.

  “Stop,” I say. “Shit, fuck, shit, shit, shit.”

  “What,” he looks at me, his head still between my legs.

  “I have to go.”

  “What,” he looks bewildered. “Now? Right now?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Do you have to?”

  “It’s the coven meeting. I forgot. I…I just—”

  “It’s okay,” he says, his disappointment visible in his eyes.

  “I…” I begin.

  “Just go,” he says, looking away.

  I hurriedly put my clothes back on, grab my purse, hop on my broom and kick it. Leaving my heart behind, I head high up into the air, above the clouds, to the coven meeting.

  Half a dozen witches are already there. The other half joins in soon and then Minerva appears and smiles at me.

  “Good of you to show on time for a change,” she says.

  “Here,” I toss the dragon hair to her.

  “See, that wasn’t so difficult now, was it? I told you I knew you could do it.”

  “It almost cost me my life.”

  “We all must take risks,” she says.

  “Aren’t you the one who keeps telling us to be careful?” I counter.

  “I am. Don’t be reckless, don’t take unnecessary risks, but don’t stop taking risks altogether. Life would be no fun without them.”

  “What do you know about fun,” I murmur. Minerva looks at me questioningly. I shake my head.

  Bats flies in. “Cyrene! You are here! I went to your place, couldn’t find you,” she pants. “I was so worried.”

  I just shrug. Minerva begins the meeting, but nothing of importance comes up. Before dismissing us, she asks if any of us have questions or suggestions. I raise my hand.

  “What happens if a witch falls in love with a dragon?”

  Minerva narrows her gaze, a knowing look on her face. I hate her knowing looks. Another stupid witch mumbles, “It’s an abomination.”

  “Take the risks you have to,” Minerva says. “We all do.”

  “One more thing,” I raise my hand again.

  Minerva nods with a jerk of her chin toward me.

  “Can we have these meetings on Skype instead? That would be quicker, faster and more convenient for everyone.”

  “Oh Cyrene, my child, when will you learn,” she says and flies away. All the witches disappear into thin air, leaving me with Bats.

  “What, no rush to go back home?” She asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is everything okay?” Bats looks concerned.

  “I think I might be falling in love.”

  “That is a good thing, Cyrene.”

  “With a Dragon Shifter,” I add.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she says.

  “Yeah, neither do I.”

  We both fly off in different directions, back to our homes.

  ***

  I lie in bed thinking about Dell, unable to sleep. I know where he lives and yet I don’t have his number. I have my first show coming up, my schedule is filled with rehearsals and work and the more I try to make time for him, the less time I find.

  I also have a meeting coming up with Erin Vam, the head of Glance Modeling Agency. I have only heard her name, never seen or met her. People rave about her like she is some kind of Goddess. I am told I will get to meet her after my debut, be the show opener and stopper for her new line of Fall/Winter collection.

  In the days that follow, I see my life taking on a new dimension, splitting into two directions. The one I signed up for, the life of glamour and the one I didn’t sign up for, falling for Dell. I know nothing about him. What does he want? He didn’t seem too interested. Does he just want sex? Or does he want something more? Am I ready for more?

  I get an advance paycheck and quit my remaining job to fully focus on modeling. Fred keeps calling me ‘raw,’ while Yael morphs me into someone I can’t recognize. Two days before the final show, I have a huge disagreement with Fred.

  I sit in front of a mirror as Yael guides a stylist, suggesting my looks.

  “You have to arrange her hair so she can be a show opener with one style,” Yael says in her thick Israeli accent, “but be the show stopper with a different one.”

  The stylist, a lean guy wit
h gray and black hair, nods.

  I close my eyes as he works on my eyes, plumps my lips as he paints them and then Fred barges in.

  “Listen,” he says, “your hair is beautiful. But you need to get it cut shorter so we can focus on the clothes you display.”

  “No one touches my hair,” I say. “It’s non-negotiable.”

  “It is in your contract,” he says. “We own you.”

  Yael looks nervous, flitting about, trying to speak but remaining quiet.

  “Like fuck you do,” I say, knocking my mug, spilling the coffee on the makeup table. Yael rushes to find tissue papers to clean up. The stylist goes slow-mo in an Oh-My-God way.

  “We will sue you, take you to court,” Fred yells back.

  I ignore him and walk out, my make-up half done.

  Chapter Eight - Take Me Away

  Dell

  The bell rings. I answer. She stands there leaning against the door. With a cigarette in hand, she is looking beautiful, dangerous and fragile. She looks like a bomb about to explode. Her face is red like chili, caked with powder, hiding her features with a plastic facade. Her eyes are brimming with tears, her head cocked up. She juts her lower lip and exhales lightly.

  “Cyrene,” I say, happy to see her.

  “I can’t do this,” she says.

  “Can’t do what?” I ask. She looks away, not trusting herself to talk.

  She raises her hands in resignation. “This, with you. Anything. Everything.”

  “Come on, come inside,” I say. She follows me into the living room and leans on the couch, her legs on the table.

  “Wine?” I ask. She nods. I get two glasses and pour red wine, hand one glass to her. She downs it in one go and pours herself another.

  “You are the weirdest witch I have ever seen,” I tell her.

  “Join the club,” she says through gritted teeth. “More power to you.”

  “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

  “What does it matter?” she says. “Everything I do always seems to go awry, blowing up in my face. I fuck everything up. I don’t know where my life is headed, what I am doing and nothing makes sense anymore. It never did.”

  I refill her glass and sit next to her and put my arm around her neck. “I am not in the mood for sex,” she says. “Not everything is about sex,” I say. She remains stiff for a minute, lights another cigarette, takes a sip of her red wine and then leans back with her head on my chest.

  “I can hear your heartbeat,” she says.

  “Can you hear what it says?” I ask. She turns around, straddles me again and slowly pushes her cigarette into my mouth.

  “I don’t smoke,” I say.

  “Just this once,” she says.

  I take a drag, blow it out. “Just for you.”

  “I need to get away,” she begins. “If I continue, I will fall apart.”

  “You are stronger than you know, Cyrene.”

  “Wow,” she says, coughing as she laughs suddenly while blowing out smoke. “You sound just like Minerva…that bitch.”

  “Want to get out of here?”

  “Yes, please,” she says, her eyes literally begging me to take her away.

  We walk out into the empty street behind my house.

  “Have you ever rode a dragon?”

  “I am about to, ain’t I?”

  I nod, shifting into my dragon. I see her eyes widen as I shift, marveling.

  “Hop on,” I say.

  She walks to my outstretched wings and clambers up.

  “This could be more comfortable,” she says.

  “Hold tight,” I say, as I feel her arms around my back, her fingers tightening for a better grip. I lurch forward, batting my wings, picking up speed. She leans her head back as I take off, her hair loose and free, flying wildly, like her spirit.

  “I can show you the world…” I begin.

  “Don’t fuck up the moment,” she interrupts.

  We break out laughing.

  “Take me to your world, take me away,” she says.

  ***

  The night smells like a potpourri of jasmine and roses, as I slowly descend over a glade by the river in my kingdom. The sky is mirrored in the river below. The stray clouds, stars and the moon glisten in its murky stillness. We circle around the glade, descending slowly and land on a patch of Irish grass.

  She slides off my wing. “So, this is your world.” I shift again, back to human form.

  “This is where my father met my mother,” I say. I see acknowledgment in her eyes. She nods, gives me a hug without speaking and then looks into my eyes.

  “Your eyes,” she begins. “They are burning. The irises are dancing like flames.”

  “That’s how they are in my world. No disguises here.”

  “Cool,” she says and lights another cigarette. She walks to the river, “I can’t even tell which one is the real sky—this, here,” she points to the river, “or that, up there,” pointing to the sky.

  “This is a magical place,” I say. “The Kingdom of Dragons.”

  “And you must be a dragon prince looking for an eligible princess,” she says, blowing rings of smoke, leaning against a jacaranda tree.

  “No, I am not a prince.”

  “Too bad, that won’t do for me.”

  I grab her hand and pull her up. “But I do belong to the dragon nobility, one of the oldest lines of dragon blood. Would that do?”

  She takes a step away, her hand still in mine, “Maybe.” I pull her back to me.

  “I want to know you. I want to give us a chance, Cyrene. But you…you are unpredictable. You are tantalizing to my heart, my soul. If you are fooling around, just let me know and I will save myself from the heartbreak.”

  “The moon looks so beautiful,” Cyrene says. I look into her eyes and see the giant pearl reflected in them. We get down on the floor and lie in the grass, cuddling, looking at the moon.

  “I am serious, though, about what I said,” I reiterate.

  “I don’t know, I have never done this stuff before. I have always used a love potion,” she says. “I don’t know how things work or how to make them work.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she says, rising on her elbows, propping her chin in her hands. “I just suck at being an adult. I can’t do what people…”

  “I like you just the way you are,” I interrupt. “I wouldn’t want you to change.”

  “Everyone says that in the beginning…”

  “You have been hurt before, haven’t you?”

  She doesn’t respond.

  “Whatever happened to you, Cyrene, forget it. Leave it behind. Stop taking it everywhere with you or you will never be able to move on.”

  She smiles wistfully.

  Chapter Nine - The Moon Dance

  Cyrene

  I smile at him. He knows—or understands—way more than he lets on, but he only has a vague idea of what I am about. I have always thought of myself as a rare bird, an exotic species who was sent to earth for a limited time. Right now, in this glade, when it is just me and him, the possibilities seem endless. But I know I don’t belong here. Soon, I will have to wake up from this dream.

  He fingers a long curl in my hair and pulls me closer into a warm embrace. His hands run up my shirt, his fingers massaging my back. I hold his face in my hands as his embrace tightens and he kisses me deeply, his tongue exploring my mouth.

  I roll up his shirt, revealing a perfect six-pack. His bronze skin bathed in moonlight, his muscles rippling. I go lower, planting kisses and pecks in my path, and unbutton his jeans. I unzip his pants, pull them down along with his boxers and he kicks them off. I look around and he assures me that “No one will bother us here.”

  I take a moment to just admire his cock, as it stands erect, slightly curved, almost nine inches. Its girth is more than any I have ever seen, its head slightly purple. I plant a quick kiss on the tip of his cock, his hands reach into my hair, pushing my mo
uth gently toward his stiff member. I part my lips and take the head inside my mouth, sucking on it like a candy. He tastes like cologne and musk, his skin smooth against my wet tongue.

  “Ah,” a moan escapes his lips. I lick his cock like a lollipop, moistening it from base to tip with my tongue, then I wiggle my tongue on its tiny slit.

  “Go deeper,” he says. I look him in the eyes as I take his entire length into my mouth, inch by inch, till his tip is deep into my throat. He holds my head in his hands, his cock still inside my mouth and turns me around. Then he fucks my face, thrusting slowly, going deeper with every thrust. I slobber over his cock, its thickness filling my mouth. He forces all the way in and his cock reaches a new level of depth in my throat, my nose pressed against his pubes. He holds still, enjoying the warmth of my mouth, till I push him back so I can breathe.

  His eyes light up, flaring. His pupils turn into slits and I feel his dragon take over him. Something shifts in him.

  “God, I want to fuck you so bad,” he says in a deep, masculine voice. He undresses me and takes off his remaining clothes, then starts kissing me again, hovering over me, my back against the grass. He straddles me and pushes his cock between my breasts, its tip reaching my lips. He pushes my knockers closer together, squishing his massive cock in between, thrusting. Then he goes down on me, his tongue wiggling against my wet clitoris, pushing inside me.

  As he grabs me by my protruding hipbones and eats my pussy, I run my fingers through his head and massage his shoulders. He spreads my legs apart and then positions himself in between them. I look into his dragon eyes, his massive frame towering over me, ready to enter me. He looks at me for approval and I nod.