Vulnerable moment

Rynthara’s jaws tightened to suppress her gasp when he furled the moistest parts of the cloth around his bare, vulnerable cock. His whole frame shook, rattled by a delight too foreign to his limited mind. In his world, breeding a dragon was unheard of, so Rynthara could only guess the effects her slickness, in concert with his thoughts, inflicted upon his body. 

Nestled within a poor substitute for the real thing, Crytrauv relied on his mind’s eye to flare his breeding instinct to life. He clutched the cloth with both hands, swinging his hips forward and backward to thrust into it, the motions sluggish and timid. His thin, high-pitched, continuous whimper reflected the battle between will and instinct, each trying to subdue each other. Were it not for her dream, Rynthara would have averted her gaze and ears from that pathetic mewl and swaying silhouette, but because of it, she stared at Crytrauv intently, absorbing every motion of his body, observing all of his reactions while he bred.

His whiskers twitched, muzzle scrunching more and more with every stronger, deeper, more confident thrust. Rynthara caught a brief glimpse of his clenched teeth, the pressure exerted upon them as intense and demanding as his tightening grip around the cloth. He no longer held it, but squeezed it, eager to make it less disorderly, more compact, to shape it closer to how her nethers would feel around him. 

Rynthara clenched her paws, kneading restlessly at the ground with the pads of her toes, utterly absorbed in what she witnessed. She never imagined a male’s nostrils to twitch and flare the way they did, desperate to take in more of the female fragrance wafting from the cloth, nor for his form to turn so taut. His claws didn’t rake at the earth. His tail didn’t wag, like she imagined it would, and his head bowed forward instead of arching backward. But for the motions of his haunches and the trembling of his lips, nothing else moved, as if his whole focus, his entire purpose, lay within that bundled cloth, relentlessly assaulted by his member. 

Crytrauv hunched forward, his vocalizations acquiring a higher pitch, stifled by his deep huffs, and not subverted by his willpower, like Rynthara had expected from a fox previously worried about being discovered. In contrast with him, Rynthara’s breaths turned scarce and shallow to minimize every sound that didn’t come from Crytrauv, and also to muffle the increasingly noticeable scent of his musk. Its salty, metallic tang differed from that of a dragon in ways that intrigued her, more so when his ripe pouch that housed his eggs swung so wildly, so feverishly in unison with his thrusts. The two round swells flanking the base of his member engorged to an impossible size for such a small sheathe, making their exit nigh impossible. 

Soft, warm prickles creeped through her hide, welling within her stomach where they combined into a fluttering mass that turned her unnervingly giddy. She felt suddenly invigorated, struck by the same familiar excitement that she experienced as a hatchling while discovering new things her parents hadn’t introduced to her yet. Few bipeds ventured into the Nightwood, and of those, fewer still exposed their nakedness to a dragon. Right now, she might have very well been the only dragon about to witness the ejaculation of a fox within the cloth he used to wipe off her arousal.

Yelps, yips, whines and whimpers burst from Crytrauv’s muzzle in quick succession as he lurched forward. Slumped against the tree in front of him, he loosened his seed within the confines of the lubricated sanctuary, holding it tight against his groin during that short, precious moment. 

Rynthara’s heart leapt up her throat, her feathers fluffing up, and her ears turning as erect as Crytrauv as she aimed them at the source of those frail, chocked, melodious sounds. Dragons roared during their climax; they didn’t moan, as if unable to withstand that overwhelming pleasure. And yet, she found Crytrauv’s sounds quite endearing thanks to their genuine touch. Unlike a male dragon, he didn’t try to impress his mate or protect the bearing he had groomed since his days as a hatchling. When struck by that sudden wave of bliss, he simply allowed his instinct to overtake him, savoring it rather than forcing it back. 

*

Hope you liked the little descriptive excerpt. If you fancy reading the full chapter, find it here https://www.patreon.com/posts/trek-through-ch3-41132398

Rynthara(c) is my character

Crytrauv(c) belongs to https://www.furaffinity.net/user/crytrauv/

Cover art done by https://www.furaffinity.net/user/silvyr/