Nocturnalia

cw: monster sex, knotting

Piers has finally decided to offer himself up to his dragon mate. It took him a while to work up the courage, but...he wants this. He loves Raihan, and trusts him to bring pleasure. He wants to be united with him in every possible way, and while he understands that this in particular means more to dragons than it does for mere humans, he’s ready to take the step.

He waits until Raihan has gone out for a little while, and then takes the time to prepare himself thoroughly, cleaning and oiling every inch of himself, adding on nothing but a thread-fine golden chain that drapes across his shoulders and along his chest to pool at his hips.   

He read a thing or two in a book about dragons that Raihan happened to keep in his extensive library, here in this sequestered castle, far away from the world. How dragons love their mates to offer themselves up, the way it plays to their instincts to see them presenting themselves with raised hips and a bared neck.   

It's raining when he climbs up into the large bed that now belongs to both of them, silken sheets caressing his skin and the scent of both of them on the pillows. It won't delay Raihan in any way; the dragon's wings are powerful enough to fly through any gale, and rain is hardly a deterrent when protected by iron scales. But the noise makes for a soothing background rhythm even as his heart pounds, and he arranges pillows underneath his belly and hips, biting his lip as he spreads his thighs wide, taking on the pose the book had so salaciously illustrated. On two pages. In color.   

It feels ridiculously lewd to be waiting like this, the oil on his skin warmed by the fireplace and shining under the candlelight, every part of him open and exposed. But it's for Raihan, only for Raihan, the only being he'd give himself to in this way. All around him, his hair puddles and pools against the sheets, and he focuses on the carved wooden headboard to distract himself from any embarrassment. Across it, serpents and drakes spin and twirl, wyverns extend their talons, and a central dragon spreads immense wings and lets out a jet of flame that stretches along the top of the frame. Frozen in wood, and yet so powerfully alive that Piers uses their image to steady his breathing.

He is a dragon's mate. Raihan chose him. He can do this, despite the nervousness he feels at being so slim, so meager. The reminder of how slight he is quivers in his gut, but he forces it back, trying to draw on any sensuality he might have. This is meant to be an act of mutual pleasure, if the book he read had any say in the matter.   

He doesn't have time to fret about it much longer; with a rush and thud of landing, Raihan flies into the room, audibly shaking the water from his wings. Piers can't see him, can't even find the courage to peek back over his shoulder, but presses his chest down and arches his back, catlike and tempting. 

It sounds like Raihan perhaps wanted to say something, but all that comes out is a choked noise. Piers tries not to shiver again as he hears footsteps approaching the bed, heavy hobnailed boots against the great flagstone floor, and he lets out a hitched breath when Raihan comes to a stop.   

His gaze feels like fingers, and Piers swears to every god in the sky that he can sense it as it scorches across his back, across the swell of his ass, up to his thighs and what lies between them. Swallowing hard, he reaches up a trembling hand and catches the hair that guards the nape of his neck, gathering it up and sweeping it out of the way until that most vulnerable part of his anatomy is displayed as well.  

A growl punches out of Raihan's throat at the action, as though Piers had driven a spear into his chest. A roll of thunder would not have been half so deep or powerful, nor lodged in his bones with such intensity.   

"You're offering this to me?" Raihan asks, voice not more than a strained rasp.

"Yes," Piers says in a voice just above a whisper. "All for you."  

In the pause that fills the room, Piers can hear nothing but the hissing pop of the fire and the sawing of his own breath, casting about frantically to remember if there's anything from the book he missed. Then the bed sags and dips under Raihan's weight as he clambers onto it, and Piers feels the reassuring heat of the body covering his own. Up close, Raihan smells of rainwater and ozone, but under it the natural warmth of his own scent is already beginning to rise in the heat from the fireplace.

Two large palms sink into the mattress on either side of his shoulders, and Piers gasps at the shock of Raihan's nose pressing against the nape of his neck, gone cold from flying in the storm.  

"Kiss me," he commands, and Piers turns his head instantly, obediently seeking his mouth. The raindrops that pool on his skin are icy and drip onto Piers' face like tears, but the mouth that meets his own is hotter than a brand, and Raihan kisses him as a starving man might. Tongue, teeth, pure sensation.   

A dragon's tongue is naturally longer than a human's, and Piers is reminded easily of that fact when Raihan's slides into his mouth, across his own and pushing down his throat. Thick and effortlessly conquering, it fills his mouth until his eyes squeeze shut, and he focuses on the joining of their lips—until something new.

Raihan's tongue suddenly tastes sweet and spicy, as though he'd been eating some sort of honeyed candy, and Piers can't help his curiosity as he sucks up the taste. Ginger, maybe cinnamon...he can't name it, but instinctively seeks more, even as Raihan rumbles his approval. Whatever it is, the spice is heady and he lets it fill his mouth, overwhelming his senses with a warm earthiness that tastes purely and uniquely of Raihan.   

But when it pulls away, Raihan moving back across the bed, the warmth turns to a sudden sharp burn. Even the saliva that coats his lips is hotter than any pepper, and his lips throb and swell as he helplessly swallows. 

The burning moves down his throat, along into his belly, suffusing his entire body with a heat that melts away and leaves...  

Need.   

He's never felt anything like it before; keening, his nails grapple with the sheets, and his body rocks forward and back in the confusion of unexpected lust. His skin feels suddenly painful--why isn't Raihan touching it? Why isn't he inside him, and when did Piers get so utterly, achingly empty? He bucks, frantic, and a wide palm lands in the middle of his back to pin him in place. Panting, he looks back over his shoulder and sees Raihan rearing over him, haloed by the golden light of the fire and smiling faintly at him, even as his sea-green eyes bleed dark with wanting.

Piers is frozen beneath that gaze, pinned through by it and the drumming of his heart. Hoping Raihan will do something terrible in the same breath that he fears it.   

The stroke of Raihan’s tongue against his back is a lash, and Piers jolts against the sheets, scrambling until a strong hand cups his shoulder and holds him in place. Trails of fire follow Raihan's lips, and he realizes distantly that he's licking at the golden chains, chasing them up Piers' body with his tongue.   

"Please, Rai, I need--" he barely knows what he needs, but he does.   

"I know, little one."

Raihan's tongue soothes across his pulse, and yet Piers can only arch into him, begging silently.  

"You need to be mounted and claimed," he purrs, the tips of his claws pressing as little pinpricks of pain against Piers' skin. "Say it."  

Piers swallows, eyes searching out the carvings in front of him again, hands clenched tight in the sheets. "I--I need to be mounted and claimed." The truth of it sends another pulse of liquid heat through him, and he listens to the rustle of Raihan stripping himself, the heavy thump of his boots hitting the floor.

"That's right, my mate...offering yourself up so sweetly to me. Do you know what this does to a dragon? How little control I have now, just to see you like this?" The clink of his belt has Piers swallowing through a parched throat, and then hands seize his waist, almost large enough to wrap around it. "I'm going to breed you so deeply you'll never forget it."  

There's a dark, succulent promise to those words, and Piers has nothing left in him but submission. Claws skate up his thighs, fingertips spreading him even wider, pulling him open until Raihan can stare at every inch of him and yet all the trembling shame from before is gone. Now it feels right to be looked at in such a way, devoured by a gaze, and he lays limp against the bed in supplication.   

"But first, I think I'll taste what's mine," Raihan says, and Piers doesn't have time to even open his mouth before Raihan yanks his hips up off the bed, and bends double to curl that same torturous tongue around his hole. The spice from before heats his skin, but that does nothing to slow Raihan in the slightest. Wet, searching, the tip of his tongue toys with the ring of muscle and then shoves inside to Piers' scream, forcing him open as Raihan snarls against his flesh. There's not enough air in his lungs as he feels it twist inside him, impossibly long and rubbing against sensitive spots he didn't even know he had.

The dragon tastes his mate greedily, lifting him higher into the air as his thighs convulse, his neglected cock dripping now as the heat inside him builds. The arousal almost hurts, teetering on the verge of a pain Piers isn't sure he could ever recover from, and yet he craves more with every passing second. He's moaning, babbling, saying words he doesn't even recognize as that tongue thrusts in and out of him, burning him in the most delicious sort of fire. He prays to gods he isn't even sure exist, and Raihan above them all.

Yet just when the pleasure inside him is coming to a head, Raihan's tongue slips free despite his body's every attempt to keep it inside, and his belly meets the soft pillows as he's dropped down. Then Raihan is no longer touching him--and it hurts. Straining back, he turns to look over his shoulder in desperation. 

”Why—?” The word falls from his lips like a plea, but Raihan only laughs low in the back of his throat and massages a hand across his hip.   

"Need some oil, don't I? Not gonna take a dragon's cock without it."  It's true, but Piers gives his own frustrated growl as he's made to wait. When did the drawer get so far away?  

The sound of a cork coming out of a bottle eases him just a little, and then the warmth of the drizzled oil against his skin wrings a sigh from his throat. So close. 

All at once, the room dims, and Piers looks back in surprise only to realize that Raihan's wings have spread wide, blocking out the firelight. A display, in return for his own, the dragon's majesty demonstrated all for him.   

He knows then that Raihan will be his after this, and he'll be a changed man on the other side of this union. As a hare trembles under the wings of a hawk, the shadow overwhelming the tiny throbbing heart, he knows the magnitude of this.   

Acquiescing, he presses his forehead down against the silken sheets, and breathes in short puffs against the bed. Something rough drags against the inside of his thigh and it takes him a brief moment to realize that it's Raihan's tail, looping around his leg to hold him in place and squeezing like a great fist.   

Then Raihan lines himself up, and the world stops turning. The sun ceases to move in the sky, the stars do not twirl past, the clouds and all the heavens may well pause themselves because there is no celestial body that would not hold its breath for their joining.   

Piers closes his eyes, and surrenders.

He aches. He's empty, and maybe it's madness, but he can sense Raihan's heartbeat even though they aren't touching.   

The first thrust drives the breath from his lungs, and sends a droplet of sweat trickling across his temple. It's painful—Raihan is huge, dragon or man. But then, just as he expects the pain to increase, Raihan pauses and the burn of it fades to pleasure, again. Deep, delicious, toe-curling pleasure. To be stretched so wide, speared so open...  

The dragon wants his mate. And Piers needs him.  

 "Please," he pants, casting a desperate glance over his shoulder. Yet there is no need for it; this is already a ritual, as old as the world itself. Gripping his hips tightly, nails biting into the pale skin, Raihan thrusts in and out once more.  

His heat is everywhere, filling Piers in a way he never thought possible, taking him in the most primal way imaginable. Yet Piers is arching his back for it, whimpering his lust, feeling it build and tighten as whatever sweetness that kiss gave him threatens to overwhelm his senses. His cock grinds down against the pillow, but each one of Raihan's thrusts is sparking something electric inside him, and he can't spare a hand to touch himself.   

The pleasure snaps and explodes before he's expecting, and he screams in ecstasy against the sheets. Cumming...harder than he can ever remember, yet there's no relief behind it. He can't stop. It's never happened before, and he hardly knows what to do—his body is almost sore with sensitivity, yet if he doesn't spill again he might go mad.  

Sobbing Raihan's name, he clutches his fists into the sheets and his hair fans out to one side in an explosion of scent. Raihan's arms wrap around him, clutching him close in to his body and Piers is still desperate for him. Need boils, burns, howls and roars within him, but Raihan's nuzzling at his throat is part of it. 

Give every last inch of yourself, says a voice in his mind, and he feels the long, slender tongue caress the side of his face, lapping up his tears. "I know...treasure...I have you. I promise," Raihan snarls against him, voice barely human. 

The new sensitivity of his body forces him to realize that Raihan's cock is not the shape of a normal man's; where a human's is smooth skin over hardness, Raihan's is ridged. Piers whines as he realizes those are to drive him open further, hold his walls apart to take cum deep in his body, and the hard bumps that line the underside are intended for his pleasure. Dizzy, he tries to grab at Raihan's arm, and watches dimly as the claw at the top of either wing hooks into the bed.   

Covered. Held. Kept. A lewd wet squelch fills the air as each thrust wrings new noises from his body, that incredible cock mating him from the inside out as his mind starts to fade to heat and nothingness.   

Piers is his. Raihan deserves him. Had found him. Had kept him. Had earned the right to take everything from him in this way. Plunging into his body again and again, a giving little mate beneath a dragon, it's pleasure neither of them have known before.   

"Mine," Raihan growls with a brutal thrust, and Piers just barely has the breath to echo him. It feels right, and he gives it all up with another frantic orgasm, his cum staining the sheets until he feels tears rolling down his cheek and his body jerking helplessly. Yet Raihan doesn't relent, simply states his claim again, tail pulling Piers' limp body back again and again onto the spear of his cock. "Mine!"

Heat burns every inch of his skin, scorching across it like the sun, yet even this endless haze of need without true relief feels perfect. Meant to be. Groaning, he arches his back further, allowing instinct to work his hips back eagerly. Each thrust drives Raihan’s cock in further, the ridges stretching him beyond all belief and touching him in ways that no other person ever has. Raihan is atop him fully now, the pulls of his wings giving more leverage to his thrusts, but Piers finds the air somehow to keen his name, voicing his pleasure instead of muffling it into the sheets. Each sweep of Raihan's impossible tongue across his cheek, his neck, slickly sliding over his shoulder drives him higher, the heat from that aphrodisiac driving him to a sort of desperation as he begins to work himself back into every thrust.

Just as they find an elegant rhythm, Raihan's thrusts turn hard, and his hand slips between Piers and the bed to wrap around his already aching cock. It should hurt, to be this sensitive—no, it does hurt, but Piers doesn't care. Not when those fingers stroke him in the same rhythm as Raihan's cock pounding inside, and a drive of those knobs on the underside across his prostate has him cumming again, tears flowing down his face as his entire body shakes helplessly under the tide of raw, brutal pleasure.   

When he catches his breath again, he feels Raihan stutter to a stop. He's about to beg, to reach back and slap him, anything to get it going again and ease the burn of need that's clawing at his gut, but Raihan's voice rasps in his ear.   

"Going...to cum. Knot you. Bite you...go limp, feel nothing but pleasure. Mine always."

It sounds like he's struggling with the words, and Piers knows that if he could see Raihan's eyes now, they'd likely be black but for his burning green-blue irises. Gorgeous, and terrifying on a bone-deep level.  

Yet instead of fear, the only thing inside him is an immense and liberating delight in the idea. He isn't a dragon himself, but something inside him understands what he's allowing, and gives it freely.   

"I want it--I want you, Raihan. I did all this so you'd see that. I need you, always. Knot me, mount me, all the things you promised," he rushes, and Raihan gives a moan in his ear that echoes both relief and final, urgent need.   

Each thrust after that is purposeful, and Piers finds himself pressed into the bed again, Raihan's long fangs scraping against either side of his throat. Yet he welcomes it, body clenching sweetly even as the cock buried deep in him begins to expand, swelling and catching at his rim on every thrust. Bigger and thicker until he could almost fear that he'd break in half, until—

Teeth sink into the back of his neck, four fangs pressing into the nerves as pleasure erupts from deep inside him and the knot buries in his core. The world is blinded by white, and he couldn't move if he tried, muscles going as limp as Raihan had promised as the dragon finally claims his mate. A permanent mark for his beloved treasure.

Inside him, Piers can feel Raihan's cock thickening, swelling at the base until the knot locks him in and heated pulses of cum shoot into him. It keeps going long after it should have stopped, until he's sure it's swollen his belly and left him completely, utterly bred. For a while, he doesn't know anything else. If he cums again, it's a shudder underneath Raihan's body which pins him in place, and only the feeling of cum inside him seems to ease the heat that otherwise burns through his veins. 

It could be minutes or hours before the haze clears, and he neither knows nor cares which. Raihan's fangs disengage gently, and when an apologetic tongue caresses the mark he's left, Piers feels his extremities tingle with returning sensation.   

It strikes him how immensely satisfied he feels, stuffed and full of his mate, claimed and safe beneath Raihan's immense wings. He's gone from street urchin to spoiled jewel of a dragon's hoard, and he minds not at all feeling cared for in this way. It could last him forever, even though he knows this moment will come to an end.   

Yet when he can feel his fingers again, he only slides them across the bedspread and laces them with Raihan's, turning as best he can to look over his shoulder and finding a half-lidded, adoring gaze awaiting him.  

 "You were perfect, Piers. Better than I ever could have imagined," Raihan murmurs, and Piers spares him the jibe for being a sap. Just this once.   

"Yeah? Well, if I was so perfect, I think I'm ready to demand a hot bath and a long sleep after this, dragon of mine."  

Raihan is glad to oblige.