by J. R Fox
“Is that why they hate drakes?”
Holt shrugged. “Mostly. Why do Russians hate Americans?”
“Uh,” Chris frowned. “I think you’re getting your history lessons mixed up.”
“Right, I keep forgetting how young you are,” Holt sighed. “It all becomes a jumble, when you’ve been alive this long. People change, but the past is still there, unchanged and unavoidable.”
“Professor—”
“Please,” Holt waved him off. “Call me James.”
Chris blushed. He’d never been invited to call the professor by his first name before, or even know what it was, for that matter. He swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “J-James. Um, how long? Have you been alive, I mean.” He cursed himself silently – he was starting to get nervous again.
“Too long,” Holt replied. “A millennia, maybe less.”
“Whoa,” Chris breathed. “That’s, uh…”
“Long enough to see drakes thrive and perish,” Holt said. “Long enough to feel like the last one alive.”
“But,” Chris gulped. “You’re not, right? I mean, I’m alive, too.”
Holt glanced at him. “You are a fire drake,” he said quietly. “Probably from the south. I am an ice drake, from a mountain top just north of here.”
“But still, a drake,” Chris said, the word weird on his tongue.
“True,” Holt agreed. “Still a drake.”
Holt made him sleep, after that. “I’ll let the school counselor know that we’ve found you,” he said. “They’ve been searching since we brought the class back at four.”
“Were you looking?” Chris asked with a yawn, his eyes already closed.
Holt chuckled. “Why do you think I was in the area when I found you?”
Chris passed out before he’d even heard Holt’s footsteps properly leave the room, his body exhausted and his mind in a whirlwind.
He dreamt of dragons, of caves and haunting echoes, and talons that slashed through skin like a knife through butter. He dreamed that Holt was a dragon, angry and covered in ice, his blue eyes unrelenting as he chased Chris down. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he wanted so badly to escape, but Holt just laughed.
“Still a drake,” he hissed. “And still so fragile.”
He was catching up, the cold of his breath freezing the back of Chris’ neck. He was gaining, laughing—
Chris snapped his eyes open as his body sprang up, bringing him face to face with a girl with red eyes. She wasn’t unfamiliar, and he frowned as she spoke.
“Oh,” she said. “He’s awake.”
“Grab him,” another girl hissed, and as the girl wound familiar red ropes around his wrists, Chris gasped.
“Y-you’re his daughters,” he said breathlessly, still shaken up from his dream.
“How kind of a drake to remember a lowly wyvern,” the other girl hissed, her red eyes also glowing in the dark. “Did you like your hot cocoa? Stupid drake, couldn’t even taste the drug inside of it.”
“Oi, Sylvia,” the one tying him up said sharply. “You smell that?”
“Well, well,” Sylvia said, snatching out a hand to yank on Chris’ hair. “That’s a sweet scent you’re releasing. Hoping to send word to another drake that you need help?”
“Sylvia,” the sister whispered, her pupils blown wide as the red of her eyes became tiny ruby rings around the black. “We should—”
“Aww, look little drake,” Sylvia sneered. “You’ve enchanted my sister. She’s never smelled an omega’s cunt before.” Tightening her grip, she pulled Chris off the bed, laughing as he tumbled to the floor head-first. “She doesn’t understand that she can’t ever cash in on that, because she’s a beta and a wyvern. She’ll never satisfy you.”
“But I will.”
Chris’ heart jumped as he heard Holt’s voice, each word a spit of fury. The sisters sprang into action, both rushing the doorway where Holt undoubtedly stood. Chris scrambled to stand, to warn the professor, but by the time that he’d finally gotten to his feet, the girls were already on the ground, motionless.
“P-professor,” Chris trembled.
“Chris,” Holt breathed, stepping over the bodies as his blue eyes stared, unblinking, at him. “I told you to call me James.”
“Sorry,” Chris flinched back from him, the light catching on Holt’s fingers as blood dripped off of them. “I don’t—”
But Holt didn’t care. He rounded the bed and bent to Chris’ level, his red hands slipping up Chris’s face to tangle in his hair as he moved to kiss him.
Chris had never been kissed before. He wondered if he was mistaken, and that maybe Holt was doing something drake related instead. But then the man’s fangs bumped against Chris’ bottom lip and he realized that no, this was definitely a kiss.
“Holt—”
“James,” Holt demanded, and he plunged his tongue inside Chris’ mouth with a practiced ease. Chris jumped at the feeling, the sensation sending sparks down his throat and straight to his dick, and he tried to hide it with his hand as he hardened in his jeans.
“Don’t cover up,” Holt breathed, and as he swiped his tongue over the top of his teeth Chris realized that the professor had a forked tongue.
“Mhm,” he whined, the sound stuck in the back of his throat as Holt knocked his hand away to palm at the bulge in his pants.
“Chris, you smell…” Holt hissed, cutting himself off, and moved his hand to step closer to Chris. He bent over him, his height never more apparent to the twenty-two year old, and moved his hands to seize Chris’ ass.
“H—James!” Chris yelped, his body instinctively trying to inch away from the two hands kneading his ass cheeks, but whining as it only sent his crotch grinding against Holt’s.
“That’s right,” Holt hissed, moving his lips to trail kisses down Chris’ neck. “Good little drake.”
Chris felt trapped, his body sweating and shaking from Holt’s ministrations. He wanted to yell, but a part of him didn’t really know if he wanted to do it to call him off or beg for more.
“Feel good, little drake?” Holt asked, the tips of his fangs a warning against his skin.
“Uh,” Chris gulped.
“Oh, I know,” Holt chuckled. “You could always feel better.” At the last word, Holt plunged a hand down the back of Chris’ pants, his fingers quick as they slipped under his underwear and into the crack of his ass.
“J-James!” Chris cried out, twisting and turning to get free from Holt’s embrace.
“You don’t want it?” Holt asked, his tongue tickling the shell of Chris’ ear as he whispered into it. “But look how wet you are for it,” he said, bringing up the hand from out of Chris’ pants to show him the clear substance coating his fingers.
Chris gulped. “T-that’s not mine—”
“It is,” Holt purred. “A special slick just for your alpha,” he hummed, yanking Chris closer to his chest to dive his hand back down. This time, the fingers didn’t just slide between the cheeks of his ass but sought him out. They rubbed and pushed, moving just enough to hint but never penetrate.
And something about the sensation of Holt’s fingers teasing his outer rim was making Chris crazy.
“James,” Chris preened. He closed his eyes and arched his back, pushing his ass up against Holt in an attempt to urge him to go deeper.
“Finally submitting to your alpha?” Holt purred. Chris could only nod, his cheek pressed up against Holt’s stomach. “Good drake,” Holt sent a hand running over his back, his nails scratching just enough to feel good. Chris moved with it, dipping down as the hand curved over his ass.
As he went down, Chris bumped against something, and he opened his eyes to find his chin rubbing against Holt’s erection. Licking his lips, Chris gave into the fog clogging his mind and unzipped Holt’s slacks, freeing the older drake’s hard member. Chris tried just holding it at first, staring at the first dick that he’d ever seen other than his own, and gulped when it throbbed.<
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“Are you just going to look?” Holt asked, his own hands still quick in their movements while he kept his hips still for his skittish omega.
Humming in the back of his throat, Chris closed his eyes again and moved forward, running his closed lips over the skin of Holt’s head. The alpha hissed, his fingers stilling for a moment, and Chris smiled to himself as he stuck out his tongue to lick the side.
Holt apparently couldn’t take much more. He straightened, grabbing Chris’ arm as he slung the omega onto the bed. Chris went willingly, landing on his back with his legs tangled in the comforter. Holt made quick work of that, flinging Chris’ ankles over his shoulders as he stalked towards him.
“Such a pretty fire drake,” Holt kissed him, his hands moving down to grip Chris’ hips. Chris gave in, winding his arms around Holt’s neck to pull him closer. Holt brought his whole body forward, his dick prodding against Chris for a moment before he pushed.
“Ah!” Chris gasped, his grip tightening as Holt ground into him.
“So good,” Holt breathed. “Knew you were special. Knew you had magic.” Kissing his neck again, Holt said, “Just didn’t know how much.”
“A-are drakes ma-magical?” Chris gasped, his chest squeezing as Holt settled in him down to the hilt.
“The most magical,” Holt kissed his forehead.
“Mmmm,” Chris whined, his eyes squeezed shut. “Move!” he finally got out. “Please.”
“Whatever you want,” Holt replied sweetly, a smirk in his voice.
Pulling out slowly, he thrust back in, his movements just as quick as his fingers had been. Chris held on tight, his blood on fire as his stomach clenched in a squelch of delicious heat. He could hear himself panting, but he wasn’t focused on breathing – he was meeting Holt’s thrusts, his fingers scrambling to keep hold.
“Lighter, Chris,” Holt’s voice penetrated his fog. “Not so rough.” Chris loosened his grip, but still held tight, fisting his hands to lock his wrists around him. “Good boy.”
It wasn’t long before Chris was whining high in his throat, his hips moving erratically as he tried to speed Holt up.
“Going to cum?” Holt laughed, but Chris didn’t think it was a laughing matter.
“Y-you too,” he told him. “Not just me.”
“Of course,” Holt breathed, kissing Chris again as he finally sped up to give his omega the release he so demanded.
Chris came with a gasp, his body trembling as he collapsed back against the bed. Holt hissed above him, and Chris could tell by the gush of molten inside of him that Holt had just finished as well.
Holt dropped beside him, his heaving chest betraying his lack of breath. “Oh, no,” he said suddenly, flipping over to take one of Chris’ hands. “No, no, no,” he admonished, opening up Chris’ fist to reveal four shallow cuts. Chris frowned at it, about to ask what’d caused it until he saw his own fingers.
He had claws.
“What,” he breathed.
“You were trying to transform,” Holt provided, and he brought Chris’ palm to his mouth. Flicking out his forked tongue, he licked at the cuts, and the sting of ice made Chris hiss. “The benefits of being an ice drake,” he said by way of explanation, releasing Chris.
When Chris looked again, the cuts were gone.
“Sleep,” Holt commanded, his voice a comfort as Chris cuddled up against his chest. Holt sighed, tucking him closer as he muttered something about a furnace.
Chapter Seven
Chris woke up burning.
He felt like he was lying in a bed of lava, his skin stripping away as he struggled to escape it. Kicking out his legs, he panted with his eyes closed, afraid to open them and view the chaos.
“Chris!”
He jolted up with a gasp, snapping his eyes open as he collided with the cold chill that his body had been sweating for. “James,” he sighed, relief flooding his senses as the alpha’s cold arms wrapped around him. He could’ve sworn that he’d heard a hiss as their skin touched, maybe smelled a bit of steam as ice met fire, but he was too far gone to really pay it any mind.
He needed Holt, and Holt needed him.
Chris called out as he felt his alpha enter him, his arms clinging to the body of ice cooling him off. Holt seemed to be holding him just as fiercely, matching Chris’ quick pants with a clatter of chattering teeth.
Chris kissed him to make it stop, his tongue slipping into his alpha’s freezing mouth. Holt kissed him back, grinding and biting at Chris’ lips as he sought out the heat there. Chris just let him, shivering and drooling with every swipe of Holt’s frozen tongue.
When Holt finally released inside of him, it was like a gush of spring water, refreshing Chris from the inside out.
The next time Chris awoke, he was on his stomach, his face in a pillow with his arms tied to the headboard.
And there was something cold circling his asshole.
“J-James?” he asked hesitantly, turning his face to look behind him.
Smack!
He jumped, pausing in his movements as his ass suddenly blossomed in pain and the cold was pulled away.
“Don’t move,” Holt ordered, and then the cold returned.
Chris licked his lips. “James—” he cut himself off with a cry as he was spanked again.
“And don’t talk,” Holt growled.
Chris resisted the urge to say, “Okay,” and huffed to himself instead. It was a little boring, sitting there with his ass raised and back spread into a ski slope of an arch. He was just glad that the ice Holt was sliding around on him was providing some kind of relief.
At least, he had assumed it was ice.
“Whoa!” he blurted, blushing profusely as the ice pushed through his ring and curled. And, when Holt only tapped him on the ass for his outburst, his voice a mumbled groan, Chris realized.
It was his tongue.
“James, please stop,” he whined, mortified. “That place is—it’s gross!”
Holt only answered him by a sudden stab of his tongue, and Chris bit his lip to keep from gasping.
As much as he hated the thought of it, he couldn’t deny that it actually felt really good.
“James. James,” Chris babbled, distracted by a pooling in his gut that seemed to threaten to burst with every swirl of Holt’s tongue. “James, I can’t, please. It’s, it isn’t—” he cried out, keening as Holt’s icy fingers circled around his dick. He didn’t waste any time and started pumping him in time with small thrusts of his tongue, cooling Chris off inside and out. “I can’t! James, I can’t!”
He came on a choked sob, his own cum streaking over his hot stomach as Holt’s tongue finally left his ass. Yet even as it retreated, Chris could feel the chilled swipes of it coating his insides.
“Good boy,” Holt petted his hair. “Good little drake.”
The next time Chris regained consciousness, he was sprawled out on the bed wearing nothing but a pillow thrown over his chest. He sat up hastily, flinching only as the pain in his lower back let itself be known.
“Careful,” Holt said, stepping into the room with two mugs in his hand. He was dressed, outfitted in his usual outfit of black slacks and a grey turtleneck. It made Chris feel self-conscious, and he hugged the pillow to himself.
“How long was I out?” he asked, relieved to find that his throat no longer had a dry, chalky feel to it.
“Two weeks,” Holt said, setting the drinks on the bedside table next to another empty cup. “Same as me.”
“Two weeks?!” Chris gasped. “I have class! I—”
“Calm down, kid,” Holt huffed, rolling his eyes. “I had the good sense to call us both out before the heat completely took over.”
Chris frowned, and looked up to meet Holt’s eyes. “Heat?” he repeated.
“Yeah,” the professor said dryly. “That thing that drove you and I insane with lust just now.”
“For two weeks,” Chris clarified.
“Yep,” Holt nodded.
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�And no one wonders why we were out sick together?” he asked tentatively.
“Geez, you really care about what other people think, don’t you?” Holt asked. When Chris just looked away with an angry blush, Holt sighed and said, “I used some ice mojo on them. They know that we were both missing for the same amount of time, and they will never consider it odd.” Reaching forward, Holt gently took Chris’ chin in his hand and forced him to face him. “Because they are humans.”
“I’m human,” Chris bristled, yanking his chin out of his grip.
“Half,” Holt shrugged. “That much was obvious when you tried to transform. Which you shouldn’t ever try to do again, by the way.”
“Why?” Chris huffed. “Cause it’ll make me stronger than you?”
“Because it’ll tear you apart,” Holt said seriously. “Your body won’t be able to handle it, and you’ll boil yourself inside out.”
“Great,” Chris said. “Thanks for that mental image.”
“No problem,” Holt shrugged, handing him one of the mugs. “Hot chocolate, now that your temperature has gone down.”
“Me?” he said, accepting it with both hands. “What about you? You were freezing—”
“And now I’m fine,” Holt cut him off, throwing the younger drake a look. “So don’t worry about it.”
Chris went home shortly after that. His dorm was only a few hallways down, and Holt walked him most of the way, though they did say goodbye before the last turn. As Chris moved away, dead on his feet and excited at the prospect of falling into his own bed, Holt grabbed his arm.
“No one can know,” he said quietly.
“I know, I know,” Chris brushed him off. “I can’t let anyone know that I’m a drake.”
“Or about us.”
That made Chris’ chest constrict painfully. “I know,” he said weakly.
“Good,” Holt nodded. Releasing him, he smiled, “See you in class.”
Chris didn’t have the confidence to respond with an even tone, so he simply turned away and held up a hand in response.
Holt didn’t try to stop him again.
Chris stepped down from being Holt’s history assistant.