by Sean Michael
"I do not need the best -- your best is all I ask. It is all I ever ask, but only you, my dear ones, seem to give unfailingly." He stroked a golden cheek, desire and need pouring through him.
They tumbled into the sheets, dragon-wings as silk beneath his fingers, fluttering as much as the fingers against his belly. He brought their lips together, slowly, taking his time, breath whispering against golden skin. The kiss was soft but solid, heady, intoxicating.
The weight of the dragon's mind was massive compared to the fluttering of mortals', and the low song honored him with unerring and unending respect and passion. It was heady indeed, filling him with pleasure and joy, making him need, want, hunger, thirst, ache for the dragon's touch.
As always, he was given each touch, each stroke, tongue and tail and hands sliding over him and stoking his internal flames. He returned them a hundred fold, bestowing his love and pleasure on the man-beast.
His shaft was taken in a hot hand, drawn into a scorching mouth, liquid-gold eyes blazing in adoration.
"Such sweet prayers to your lord, Sir Dragon." He slid his hands over Greath's cheeks, touching the place where they were joined. The fire between them was intense.
You are loved above all else, Bright Lord. You are the basis of all joy. The scales along his dragonman's back rippled as its head bobbed, sucking him deeper and harder.
He stretched over Greath's back, stroking the bright scales, stoking the fire within the great dragon. Greath's purr vibrated along his shaft, clawed fingers on his hips, his belly. His cry of pleasure split the air as one of those claws scraped along his belly. He growled, hips starting to move, pushing his phallus into the perfect heat of Greath's mouth.
His most favored opened to him, welcomed him, needed him. He gave of himself, pushing in deep and hard, taking the hot mouth as was his due. The heat between them grew, the very air crackling with flame.
He cried out as his pleasure exploded inside him, spraying out as seed.
He could feel the answering shudders, the heat flaring as the dragon lost control and reverted to its natural form, curling carefully around him. One wing draped over him, blanketing him, offering him the greatest honor of exposing the vulnerable heart.
Purring, he laid his head on the beast's breast, letting his dragon-child soothe his mind as his body has been.
Gentle and strong, the beat of undying adoration washed over him, lulled him into a sweet rest.
Chapter Four
"Oh! How lovely! What a beautiful story," murmured Liska.
"Do all gods have their favorites?" asked Melin.
"Weren't you listening, Melin? Lord Verde already told of us Grigio and his smoke-demons."
Verde nodded. "Yes, indeed."
"Oh, tell us more!" called the triplets.
"Yes, tell us of one of the women," murmured Liska. "What of your dear mother -- who are her favorite children?"
"Ah, the unicorns are her chosen children," said Marrone, thick fingers sliding over Verde's body. "The unicorns so like our own centaurs."
Verde laughed, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Not exactly like, beloved. While they have a great horn in the middle of their heads, they are seriously lacking another horn further below.
Marrone laughed, the sound deep and husky. "You are incorrigible, my brother."
"I try. Now tell our dear ones of our mother."
***
Bianca wandered through the meadow, white flowers blooming beneath each step. The sky was clear, the day lovely. Then again, this place was solely her own, always bright and lovely -- not even her own Dark Lord dared enter uninvited.
Bianca relaxed, nude and free, hair flowing in the breeze, ensnaring hundreds of bright butterflies in one heartbeat, releasing them with another. Finally, she reached the center of the meadow, stretching out beside the clear pool on the softest grass, and rested.
After a time, she became aware of a presence joining her. A soft whinny confirmed it was one of her beloved unicorns. She smiled, sitting up with her hair draping about her. "Do I have a visitor come for me?"
The white beast lowered its head until the horn touched her thigh. Thunderhooves, my lady Bianca, your own mare.
Bianca reached up, hands running over the softest pelt, a silken mane. Such perfection. "Sweet Thunderhooves, how does my dear one find the morning?"
Bright, my lady, now that you are here. The great head raised, muzzle finding her arm, soft lips nibbling so gently upon her inner wrist.
Her laughter drew the cherry blossoms raining down upon them from the trees. "I miss my beautiful ones, my most dear. I have been away from this place too long."
Will you stay, my Lady? Frolic with me? She could swear the liquid blue eyes teased her.
Bianca reached out stroked the velvety chest of the unicorn, doing a bit of teasing on her own. "I will not resist such a sweet offer, pretty one."
You honor me, Bright Lady. The unicorn tossed her head, rearing up and transforming into a beautiful woman with a silky white mane and tail. The horn that grew from her forehead was as silver as the purest metal.
She nodded, smiling up and opening her arms to welcome her sweet one into her bright embrace.
Thunderhooves slid into her arms, skin warm and silky. "Oh, my Lady, to frolic with you is to know true joy."
"You were made for pleasure and happily, lovely beast." She stroked the soft beast of her pretty one, cooing at the warmth. "Show me your joy, your hunger."
"As my lady wishes." Thunderhooves bent, bringing their mouths together in a warm kiss that taste of sweet grasses and sunshine.
Giggling, giddy with joy, Bianca reached up, slid her fingers around the living spiral of silver pointing toward the sky, rubbing gently.
Thuderhooves arched, eyes rolling back with pleasure. "Lady!"
"Yes, pretty one?" She laughed again, one hand sliding over the horn again and again, the other sliding back to brush the base of Thunderhooves' tail.
"Such pleasure, Lady! More than I have ever imagined." The lovely woman writhed atop Bianca's body, eager for every sensation she offered.
Their lips came together again and again, Bianca drinking the nectar of pure desire and blessed pleasure from perfect lips. Her beloved ones -- how she adored them, such magic. Thunderhooves slid a hand between them, finding her sex, fingers stroking against her. Purring, she opened to the touch, her inner thighs painted with the sweet evidence of her hunger.
"For us, lady? Such honor and pleasure and brightness you shower us with!"
Yes. She loved them so, defended their innocence even to her own Dark Lord.
Her bright child moved with her, sharing in her pleasure and joy. They rocked and rubbed, Bianca feeding her own happiness and drinking passion, cries becoming rainbows that arced overhead.
"Lady! My Lady!" Thunderhooves sent sweet noise into the sky as she came.
Bianca's own climax brought a shower of crystalline raindrops that made music and splashed color as they landed, making them prance together and shake their heads -- Bianca following her sweet child into the most fair and graceful form.
Let us run, most favored! Let us play!
Thunderhooves neighed and whinnied, shaking her head. Yes, Lady, yes!
Their laughter mingled and they galloped over the green hills, the sun glinting off two horns -- one silver, one the purest ivory.
***
Sweet Melin was curled in Marrone's arms, watching him as he told his tale, with wide eyes. "So beautiful."
"Indeed, my child, our mother is the most beautiful of all."
"And what of your father's pets?" asked Mikah.
Marrone chuckled. "Ah, where Bianca is invoked, Nero soon follows."
"His pets are these rather nasty snakey things." Verde sounded very sure, sweet nose wrinkling.
"Not all of them, Beloved."
"That is true, there is Nocturmus."
Their followers shifted, moved in closer, wide-eyed as they waited for the tale.
&
nbsp; ***
Nero stopped mid-thrust, his slithering minion whimpering, pushing up as it begged mutely. He pulled out and waved it away, sending it scuttling from his bower.
Something had caught his attention.
Someone.
Small and black-hearted, deliciously mischievous and, at the moment, extremely annoyed.
He spread himself out over the night sky, searching for the presence that had made itself known. There. In the darkest temple, where his highest high priests performed their dark magicks and offered forbidden sacrifices to him.
He entered the dark cavern, staying invisible as he searched for the dark spirit that had caught his attention. Small and dark, black wings vibrating with aggravation, the little impling's eyes were glowing, clawed fingers silently working at the iron bars.
How utterly delightful.
A glance at the priests confirmed that they were too sleepy to make sure their captive was remaining such.
Oh, it was time to have some fun!
A single thought bent the bars, just a touch, not quite enough to give the little one a chance to escape, but enough to make him think he could. Those eyes flashed, nose wrinkling, sniffing. Suspicious. A low whisper filled the air, thick and heavy and dripping with malice, keeping his priests asleep with a simple charm as the little beast started trying to work himself free.
He moved closer to the cage, sliding a touch no stronger than a light breeze along one of the black wings. The slight form stilled, pointed chin lifting. Then, deliberately, those pitch-black wings flared, brushing the sides of the cage.
Oh, this was a smart one. He purred lightly, the sound echoing around the cavern, just barely audible, but nonetheless lingering in the air. Another caress -- such soft wings. He would like them to stroke him to completion. Later. When this black-hearted imp begged for it.
"The Black Lord." His title was whispered in a tongue that had been forgotten millennia ago, the words themselves guttural and ripe with devilish promise.
"Indeed, Noctumus." He plucked the impling's true name from that black heart, still remaining dark and invisible.
The look on the mischievous face was neither scared nor shocked but instead a clever mixture of pleasure and wicked curiosity. "The Elders said you had passed away from our lands, never to return. I flew to find the truth of it."
"And got yourself caught, impling." He stroked the fine, warm skin of Noctumus' chest, his own hands cold as the night. "I find it amusing how my own always find each other, even when they don't know it."
He received a shiver, the softest moan sounded. "Aye, they had a net and some smoke that made me sleep. In truth, at first I expected your honored son to appear."
He chuckled. "The Lord of Dreams would not know what to do with one as black as you. You were made for me, Noctumus."
"I was." Those wings fluttered again, pressing unconsciously against the bars.
"And now I suppose you expect me to set you free." He slid in and out of his corporeal form, teasing the impling.
"No, Dark Lord." Those bright eyes glimmered, the stance of his impling sure and proud. "To expect from You is sacrilege. I simply hope."
"And what do you hope, Noctumus? What would you have from your Dark Lord?"
"I would be free from these bars, Dark Lord. I would spread my wings for you."
With a thought, the cage dissolved as Nero took on his human form. He fully expected Noctumus to attempt to flee, though he hoped he was to be proven wrong -- the black-hearted impling would bring such delightful mischief to his days.
Those black wings spread wide, lifting the tiny body off the ground immediately. His cheek was caressed with one wing and those eyes flashed at him in thanks. Then the impling turned, screeching and throwing coals at the sleeping priests, waking them and driving them from the temple with a most delicious fury.
How utterly delightful!
Nero grew wings of his own, enormous and blacker than the night, a single beat of which would bend the trees.
Noctumus turned, a needy cry echoing through the temple, the impling spending fiery seed at the simple sight of his glory.
Oh yes. This black child of the night would serve him well.
***
Noctumus flew as fast as his wings would carry him, zipping between trees and branches and raindrops, the long tail of a virgin held tight in his fist, her infuriated family screaming behind.
Oh, such fun!
His most adored Dark Lord sent him on the most clever errands, ones most suited to his talents and needs. Defiling virgins, rusting swords in their sheaths, ripping the tack of soldiers, and sending messages down to the Beloved Son.
That had been delicious fun, dallying with the dreaming demons as he awaited the Lord of Dreaming's response.
Once the Dark Lord had offered him over to the Eldest Son for use. Pleasant enough, those fingers could draw out the most perfect pain. Still...
His black heart belonged to one will alone.
Come to me, Noctumus. The call was clear and undeniable; his Dark Lord wanted him.
Yes, my Dark Lord. He whispered the charm that would deliver him into the presence of the one he loved above all, the pale tail shimmering in the darkness as he offered it over.
His Lord laughed as he took the tail. "Was there much shrieking?"
"A truly amazing amount, indeed. She was unharmed, as you requested, not a drop of her blood spilled."
One of his Dark Lord's hands slid along his cheek. "Excellent. Let them squeal like pigs; if there is no blood, my Lady has little case for complaint. This time." Then his Lord laughed, the sound large and dark.
He shivered under that laughter, overcome with its power and pleasure.
His Dark Lord saw and stepped closer, eyes glittering close to his face. "What would you have as a reward, my black imp?"
"Your favor, the feel of your will upon me, my Dark Lord." The answer was always the same, as unchangeable as his need.
Nero reached out, stroking his wings with a firm touch. "Would you bring me to pleasure, Noctumus?"
"Yes, my Dark Lord. As you will." His wings flared, rustling with need and hunger.
Nero waved a hand and Noctumus' hands were suddenly bound in front of him. "Use only your wings."
Noctumus nodded, slightly off-balance. It was a rare thing, to stand upon the ground, and he tended to hover around his Lord and touch. Now he carefully stretched out a single wing, sliding the feathers over the perfect skin.
The dark eyes half closed, a soft purr sounding, letting him know his touch was accepted, enjoyed. He settled in, continuing to touch, fluttering his wing, awakening the great need within his Lord, free wing held out for balance.
The pale phallus filled slowly, becoming pink, the very tip red. He brushed the tip of his wing along the shaft, fascinated, enthralled. It quivered, a soft sound of pleasure coming from his Lord. Noctumus repeated the gesture, lingering this time over the heavy sacs. The purr grew louder, the heavy phallus twitching. He began to stroke steadily, fluttering his wings around his Lord, more confident, more steady.
"My imp!" A shudder moved through his Lord and then another, liquid leaking from the tip of that great phallus.
"Yours, Dark Lord. All of me." He redoubled his efforts, needing nothing more than his Lord's pleasure.
"I know." One of his Lord's hands slid over his wings, leaving pleasure in their wake.
He cried out, wings fluttering, buffeting his Lord. "Oh!"
"That is what I feel as you touch me," murmured the Dark Lord.
He met that beloved, overwhelming gaze. "You honor me."
"I do. You have earned it." His wings were stroked again and then his Lord's hand fell away. "Now finish it."
"Yes, my Lord." He moved his wings faster, with stronger strokes, pulling all the sensation he could from his Lord's body.
A low moan sounded, heralding the peak of his Lord's pleasure. His own need answered, his focus upon his Lord complete. Burning, cream s
eed sprayed from the great phallus, painting his wings with pleasure.
Noctumus slumped to the ground, wings beating slowly, filled with bliss.
The bands around his hands slid away, one of the Dark Lord's minions coming and taking him to the bed, cleaning him and offering him dark purple grapes.
He accepted the dark orbs, eating them and purring at their sweetness. Such a life! To love and live for his Dark Lord. To be allowed to fly.
He would suffer a thousand thousand cages to do it.
***
Her fury could be felt for ages, vibrating even down into his dark lair, cracking the stones and causing his beloved pets to hide and cower from her light.
Heated as nothing else could be, she descended to him, hair flowing, sparks flying from her eyes. Her beauty knew no bounds. "Your beastly followers have invaded the sacred fields. One of my own has been slain!"
Her eyes fell upon his beauties, moving away from her light which burned so. "I shall destroy all I find until my debt is paid in full."
Growling, he stood and faced her down. She was beautiful in her anger, but his pets were well-trained, or not, as he wanted and he would not have her destroy all the hard work he'd already put into his own pleasure. "Calm yourself, Madame. What have you lost?"
"Calm myself? Do not dare to take that tone with me, Lord Nero. Not when your own followers enter my sacred fields and destroy that which is dearest to me in your name!" Her voice was huge, liquid diamond tears upon her cheeks. A single, bloody horn rested in her hand.
He wiped her tears away with his tongue. "Shall I send one of my serpents to serve you, Lady? That he might pull your sorrow from your heart and ease your pain?"
The horn went flying through the air, pinning one unfortunate serpent to the wall by the throat. "That will not satisfy me."
Growling, he reached out, the serpent and horn flying to his hand. "Be careful, Lady, that I do not strangle you with the bodies of my pets and force you with your own's remains."
With a thought he brought them to her own bower. "Destruction does not displease me, but the kind you bring is always so tedious to clean up. You want to fight -- we shall do it in your pristine palace, Madame. If there be blood, let it flow on your floors."