Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
Damn That Scaly Beast
By Aria & Ikarias
14 Parts
April 10th ~~June3rd, 2002
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(Aria)
“Damn, that scaly beast” Aria muttered through clenched teeth.
She has been gone far too long for Aria’s comfort. Mistress Ikarias had been away for almost two weeks now. Aria knew it had to be something important, for Ikarias to leave her sistren and the comfort of the Lodge. Surely, she would send word, if she needed help.
Aria wondered if the Mistress might need her. They had helped each other out of various scraps over the years… maybe this was one of those times. “Damn you, Dragon” she heard herself mutter again.
It was late and Aria did not wish to disturb her sleeping sisters. She threw on her cape, tied it tightly around her and found her way to Killian’s room.
“Wake up little one” she whispered gently in Killian’s ear. Aria watched those lovely brown eyes open and stare into her own. “ I need to leave you for awhile, I shouldn’t be gone very long. I did not want you to fret”
“Where are you going”? “When will you be back”? “Can I come too”? “You can’t leave me” killian shot out in rapid fire now awake and concerned. Aria smiled, touched her hand to Killian’s soft cheek. “I’ll be fine, dear heart. I always am. I just need to go find that Dragon. I’ll be back before I am even missed.” Aria cupped Killian’s sweet face in her hands, kissed her gently on the mouth and left before either could see the others tears start to flow.
Aria found her way to the stables, grateful not to find Lord Nessa there. Nessa would have surely tried to talk her out of this quest or at the very least offered to accompany her. This was hers to do; she would not involve anyone else. Aria would miss her sisters she had grown to trust and cherish. But, she needed to be able to live with herself and her conscience told her, to go find her friend.
Aria pulled her cape close, gathered her courage and mounted one of Nessa’s horses. She then wiped a tear from her eye and headed into the darkness.
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(Part 2 by Ikarias) --
Not all the horses Killian 'liberated' were found. In particular one ornery Percheron belonging to a certain half-dragon, who decided to kick up his heels and check out this part of the world.
Another goad was his mistress, Ikarias. Her scent was different, like bitter smoke in the nostrils of the great grey warhorse. It was familiar, Ikarias went through this phase twice a year, about equinox time. It was comparable to the moon cycles of mortal women. For one with human, dragon and sorcerer blood, it was much less frequent, and more disturbing.
Taking only her sword and money, Ikarias felt the familiar malicious feelings emerge. Her 'time of the year' involved more than passing blood, it demanded the shedding and drinking of it as well. Now her passions ran in fierce gouts, and Ikarias could not stay and endanger her companions at the lodge.
Once the madness was briefly contained by opium and belladona administered by a well-meaning herbalist who watched over the half-dragon. The fire in her blood burned it away, and all Ikarias could recall was scarlet flashes. She recovered her senses far from the healer's cottage. Had she killed the woman when the rage/lust came? Or just left her raw?
Asher the Percheron consistently took off at these times. His platter-sized tracks were easy to follow. If the appearance of sturdy foals coming from the mountain-bred mares in the surrounding farms was plotted, so was the path of Ikarias' restlessness.
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(Part 3 by Ikarias) --
Sparks flew up from the cook fire and went hiding in the branches, as if they were afraid of the odd-eyed woman. Her left eye was no longer golden and elliptical, her right cyan. Now the former was red, the latter black, iris and pupil. The boar haunches were charred outside and still quite bloody inside, just the way she felt too. Ikarias scaled side had changed to a bronzed green, coarse and strange, as if each scale wanted to peel off and crawl away.
She reached out and tore a chunk of burnt bloody meat off and gulped it down, ignoring the throbbing in her leg. It still bled a bit from where the beast s tusk had ripped her during the hunt. She had smelled the wild pig, then heard it grunting in an ill-tempered tone as it looked for truffles. Ikarias hadn't eaten in two days, and with her changes, she was ravenous, and looking to kill.
Hunting boar with a sword was not the recommended method. In close quarters, the tusks were fast crescent daggers that slip easily into flesh. Ikarias shouted at the pig and grinned as it turned, red-eyed and snorting. Fifteen paces to charge and it missed her as she struck along its tough hide. Bristling with rage, it wheeled and barreled back, twisting its head up as the half-dragon tried to bring the blade down behind the shoulder.
She fell, cursing, wounded and pissed. The boar rushed back, bloody froth spattering the loam. She braced the hilt with both hands close to her body as it ran her down.
Ikarias coughed from the impact, her sword pierced through the beast. It lay atop her, quite dead and close enough to kiss. Not that she was interested. She managed to roll a bit and get the dead weight off, and find out her thigh was open from hip to knee. Not terribly deep but obnoxious enough to really need stitching if she were to heal properly. The bruises in cloven hoof shape all over her chest and stomach were just window dressing.
She watched as the sun changed patterns of light on the leaves, waiting and bleeding and hoping. Then she saw her stitches walk over. Ants. Attracted by the scent of blood, the black tiny warriors were perfect for her needs. They were about as long as her thumbnail with multipurpose pincers. It was a matter of grabbing one behind the head, which made it open, squeeze together the edges of the wound and let the little tongs pinch. Then break off the body and repeat until she had a nubby black line up her leg. By the time the heads fell off she would be healed enough not to need them any more. The formic acid in the ants also acted as a crude but effective disinfectant.
But damn, she really had liked these pants she thought. She dozed restlessly through the night, awoke, shortly after dawn, ate more of the gamy sweet meat until she thought bursting would be an untidy option, though considering her general appearance, it wouldn't really show. And the nice rose ash shirt Tris had made her was considerably demeaned between boar blood, boar froth, boar hair and GODSBEDAMNED! Fleas!
Ikarias staggered upright, cursing the itching atop her own scales discomfort, the damned but delicious opponent, and the way too long time her ants took to come by before she was dizzy from blood loss.
The small pool near where she made camp wasn't far. Using her sword as a cane, though she d rather use it as a back-scratcher, she managed the fifty yards. Dropping the sword and any attempt at gracefulness she fell in, and ducked her head. Holding her breath, the half-dragon amused herself with the thought of drowning fleas before coming up for air.
The low afternoon sun graciously dried the torn and stained clothing tossed on the grass, even as it warmed the half-dragon, still in the pool. Nearly submerged, she quite resembled those Nile crocs, though her teeth were not nearly as pointy.
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(Part 4 by Ikarias) --
Ikarias dozed, half-dreaming half-remembering, wondering about the lovely Lady Aria.
L'Assassine Petite. The half-dragon had heard that title applied to a woman who had been a shadowy fixture in many great courts. After all, advancement by Reghina de la Muerta was preferred by much of the nobility who deigned not to sully their hands.
A whisper here, a fragment of billet doux with promises endless love if a certain personage ended abruptly there, a particular finesse in favors passed and received. These hints and more, Ikarias pieced together to find that they meandered toward Aria.
Smoky, sensuous with languid grace, the perfect foil to turn suspicion aside, then strike and fade.
Ikarias doubted that Aria had the same name back then, but that was no harm. Names are not needs.
In one mind-bending cycle, the half-dragon had offered her own services as an executioner. Ah, the good old, bad old days.
Small towns couldn't afford the luxury of a full time executioner. While most residents would fight for their homes and family in a brawl or a war, killing someone with purpose made many squeamish.
Ikarias had heard of this town by the lack of virtue it had in dealing with a bully and a sadist.
Karn preferred fists to speech, drink to work, and making everyone smaller than himself hurt, badly. He broke bones in neighbors, regularly beat his wife and children and most likely had abused his two daughters. Didn't matter that they were 11 and 9. The boys were sullen haunted children of 7 and13. The elder showed all the signs of becoming a bastard like his father; neighborhood dogs were found at his play sites in various stages of tortured death.
One grey dawn, a dairy farmer going to market had passed Karn's ramshackle cottage and heard screams. Determined to have a backbone for once, the farmer halted his oxen and taking a club, (kept under the wagon seat against the threat of robbers) went to cool down Karn's rage.
The elder boy burst through the door, across the dusty yard into the farmer's arms. Blood covered his head. He tried to speak but fell instead. Quite still. The farmer stepped inside to see Karn stomping on something mostly red and soft, later it was discovered to be the body of the youngest girl.
The farmer swung hard, knocking the burly man into the wall, a second blow felled him; it did not kill him. The older daughter was found in the antechamber nude, covered in bruises. Blood covered a small mass of a premature infant whose skull had been crushed. The little boy lay by the fireplace with a broken neck, the mother's head was across the bedroom; her body lay in the hall.
The town council knew they must deliver what justice they could. Chained with enough lengths to hold a bull, Karn ranted and cursed, ignoring questions and promising further bloody encounters. If the belatedly responsible councilors sent for the high king's aid, Karn would be taken and executed far from those he harmed, or he'd be tossed in prison, or even have the chance to escape from those transporting him.
Ikarias sat at the chief councilor's table. She was hooded and cloaked, her eyes black and red, her own urge to rend and tear held back by anticipation. A steward poured from an oversized wineskin as the greybeard asked how the murderer would die.
Her scaled hand shot out. Nails turned to talons as the change did its usual work. Four long deep slashes through the thick goatskin outer hide, the inner lining as well. The wineskin's contents gushed its escape bursting out over her side, unheeded by the demi-woman.
"Flesh is much easier to part," Ikarias said taking her glass in that wet hand and drinking.
"We've hired a monster." the elder said behind his hand to his shocked son, the erstwhile steward.
"And you let one continue his bloody work until he went too far for even your dainty hands," Ikarias sneered.
The next dawn Ikarias allowed the condemned to have a knife, condescending to the squeamish councilors who stood by as witnesses in the empty stone building that served as Karn's last stand. It didn't make much of a difference. Two of the witnesses lost their dinner of the night before; a third actually fainted. The last two wore amusing shades of fish-belly grey.
The half-dragon smiled and stretched; hardly a drop had stained her clothes. She took the bulging leather bag that clinked happily and tucked the coins under her vest. "A shovel and a bucket should take care of the mess, or a couple of hungry dogs." She pushed open the door and let the sun in to glaze the shallow red puddles behind her.
Now for quenching the other hunger. Ikarias traveled to the capital for the midsummer masque, a fete celebrating the ripeness and bounty of the earth, a.k.a. an excuse for a government sponsored orgy.
Torches burned in rainbow colors as dusk softened the edges of the turrets and pillars. In deference to the heat, costumes were appropriately lightweight and inventive. And showed considerable skin. Part of the fun was to guess what was body paint, what was mufti.
The half-dragon had an outfit made, half a costume as it were. It was made up of tiny pale octagonal scales of teal silk forming a half-hood, continuing over her neck, half her torso and the leg of her human half. Fine silken cords, some just for show, others for support held the fabric to her. Who could tell which was the real dragon?
Notes from flutes and strings came through the scented air as fountains shaped from mythological figures tinkled and splashed. Ikarias entered the great hall and watched the ebb and flow of masques. One figure caught her attention out of all the sequins and baubles and draperies.
Argus' eyes flared, overlapping and falling about slender shoulders. The peacock feathers were the woman's only costume, artfully arranged with the dense ends as masque, and barely covering the full breasts, another narrow band hung low on her hips. Tendrils from the sides of the shafts fringed in spirals about graceful arms, crossed from one shoulder to hip then went as breathless vines down one shapely leg.
As she wove through the crowd, Ikarias saw the woman's eyes mark everyone in the room, as if she wore a hawk's plumage not that of a goddess' aegis. Those were the eyes of a hunter, and of a very wary soul. Was this the fabled L'Assassine Petite? She waited 'til the eyes lay on her and she smiled. Five paces to the feathered woman, she extended her hand, and said one word, "Dance."
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(Part 5 by Aria) --
Bluish green of eye and dark blond of hair, Aria had lived in slums and in palaces, she much preferred the latter. She'd done many things in her two-plus decades: assassin, courier, dancer, pickpocket, spy. Sometimes all at once. Her petite size and lithesome form were welcome in many areas, and could get in easily to others, not so welcome.
Her last employer had the bad form to try to assassinate her, after she'd done an excellent untraceable job for him. Someone with her credentials couldn't let that happen, it was bad for business, not to mention her health.
She left the second-rate wanna-bes quite still with all the signs pointing to her ex-employer. Political character assassination was so messy, and so very rewarding. The pot she left boiling did a lovely job of calling the kettle black.
Now was a perfect time to relax, milling and mixing with other revelers. The unusual figure who addressed her thus with that low voice sent a quiet frisson through her.
Dance...
Aria examined this creature before her.
She was at once - interested. She had long accepted her penchant for bad girls and by the look of this one, she would not be disappointed.
Aria extended her small yet strong hand, and was pulled flush up against the softest body - she had ever, not paid for.
Her past had introduced her all varieties of women, those that pleased her, had even been allowed to leave her bed with their lives. But, this one startled her slightly. Aria smirked at this thought, knowing full well, she would not walk away from either the woman or the feeling.
She felt for the two quills strategically placed below her left breast. There was enough poison in either of them to stop this woman dead in her tracks should that sadly become necessary.
Her stranger was immense and strong and held her forcefully as she led her into the thick of dancers. They're bodies became one with the music and Aria forgot for one delicious moment..
why she was really there.
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(Part 6 by Ikarias) --
Ikarias held the smaller woman close, making every turn and step part of the seduction. This woman danced the pavane as if she was born doing it. The slight dip of her blonde head as the dance required at every fourth step was less a salute to her partner, than a genteel acknowledgement of the half-dragon's existence. That would be changed.
Ikarias kept eye contact, watching this delicious, most likely, dangerous woman. She inhaled slowly at a close embrace and knew not only that the woman was sweetly aroused, but the very slight bitter aroma of something else came from her. Her scaled senses wanted to strip this vixen to her skin and see what weapon was hidden; her human side wanted to see how far things would go.
The next dance was mid-eastern in flavor. Perfect for entwining arms and brushing the back of her scaled hands, both true and fake under the graceful arms, under the aristocratic chin and the supple neck. The woman's breath grew a bit faster, and Ikarias knew it wasn't the heat, or exertion. Trail her nails over an outstretched thigh, dip this lush body; hold tight from behind for a long stroking caress around a firm thigh. She let her fingers linger for a moment under the feathery hip wrap, dragging them up to the blonde's center for a single stroke, feeling the wetness Ikarias knew would be there.
She let a sly smile show to this fair-haired beauty. Turning her about, weaving through the press of bodies, few failed to get out of their way. Ikarias may be half-dragon, but she was sure this one could turn quick as a cobra. But what would trigger her, or what would hold her back?
A slow arpeggio of flutes and a lyre strummed in with the tambors and dumbeks, setting heartbeats to a slow steady fire. Turn and face the eyes like sapphire flames, slip her scaled thigh between this woman's and hold her close as Ikarias moved her leg in long slow strokes.
"This is what you came for," she whispered, pressing harder, feeling her scaled thigh grow quite damp. "This is just a taste of what I'll do to you."
Ikarias planned to keep that promise.
____****____
(Part 7 by Aria) --
“She knows… how could she know.”
Aria gently brought her hand just below her breast to see if the quills were still in place. Once assured, her thoughts turned back to this woman pretending to be a dragon.
Aria knew exactly where this would go, should she - allow it. It amused her to think, her dancing partner fancied herself in control of these few carefree moments.
“Butch women can so easily be manipulated” Aria chortled to herself. "For them it is based on the conquest, the taking". When will they realize how little power they truly possess. You can’t chase someone that wishes to be caught.
Though how is it her masked woman, knew that somewhere, somehow, Aria had something on her person that could do her dancing partner harm? Of course her deadly quills were not intended for this expensively costumed dragon. No… Aria had been dispatched to bag herself the genuine article, and hopefully get a new pair of shoes and purse out of the deal.
As she enjoyed the closeness of this stranger a little too much, her eyes never left the dance floor. She had not yet spotted her “contractual obligation”.
But Aria could play nicely with her new friend and hunt at the same time. After her dance, she would search in earnest for her real dragon.
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(Part 8 by Ikarias) --
This little huntress felt very good in her arms, and even better where the woman's soft wet center slicked up and down her thigh. The half-dragon felt the building as the woman moved herself faster, taking advantage of the friction of the scales. That would not do, not until Ikarias was ready for her to enjoy herself, then make the blonde service her. See the L'Assassine Petite on her knees, rutting, begging, then using that possibly poisoned tongue where it would do very well indeed.
The blonde was wary, the feathers rippling with every breath. Ikarias withdrew her leg, turned her, letting her hands linger, squeezing and stroking as they danced. Not allowing the woman release, not yet. She maneuvered them to the far side where several tapestries hung blocking small rooms. She lifted one to see two women wearing only black hoods, flogging a blindfolded third who grasped a knotted rope in the center of the room. Behind a second arras a woman lowered herself into the lap of someone, all that was seen was her red striped ass as she ground into the shaft filling her. A third room had a woman on her back, the second with her head hard between her legs and another with a harness fucking the middle woman. The third woman turned and smiled at them, crooking her finger for them to join her.
It appeared that behind every wall hanging was a play room filled with people enjoying themselves. Very much so, according to the groans and cries that filtered out. Ikarias wanted more than a few cushions and a few minutes. She lifted a hand from the swell of Aria's firm ass cheek. She snapped her fingers at a passing serving woman who wore little more than a flowered necklace. She tossed the girl a small pouch of money that landed on her tray.
"A good room, well stocked."
The girl nodded vigorously and Ikarias, her arm about Aria, followed behind the bouncing bare buttocks to a wooden door not to far from the musicians.
The server grinned, opened the door, and mouthed the words, "Enjoy, no one will hear you."
The half-dragon thought that was just about perfect. She propelled Aria forward and pushed the door shut with her back. The music quieted, the bass drums still coming like a heartbeat of stone.
The half-dragon took in the wide round bed, the low table with a nice assortment of toys and the window ledge, barred, with bowls of fruit and cheeses, several amphorae of wines, scented torches, conveniently placed hooks. She pulled the smaller woman to her, kissing her hard, forcing her lips open, thrusting in with her tongue. Taking what they both wanted her to take. She tasted like desire.
Ikarias pulled her hood back revealing the underlying human half. She blinked slowly, letting the feathered woman see whom she truly was going to be had by.
"Keep the plumage, oh bird of paradise, and enjoy the next few hours." She turned Aria about and pushed her forward over the bed. One hand was planted firmly in the middle of Aria's bare back, the other, the scaled one, tore away the few feathers in the way. Three rough fingers thrust between the swollen folds, curled and slowly pressed in long earnest strokes.
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(Part 9 by Aria) --
“Damn…”
Aria cursed herself for allowing this magnificent creature to best her. How could this have happened - seduced by the very woman she had been dispatched to terminate.
This would certainly not be good for business. “Damn…”
She comforted herself somewhat through a little self deception… the music, the dancing, the near naked woman with their wonderfully earthy smells. What was an assassin to do.
Once inside Ikarias’s private room, staring into the eyes of her unmasked half dragon, Aria knew she would not kill this woman. She could not. Though she had no plans with this woman beyond a quick fuck, she would let her live.
Aria barely had time to complete her thought, when she was spun around and pushed face down onto the round mattress. Her next sensation was one she had never felt before. She had experienced fingers - hands even , but, nothing that ever felt like this.
Ikarias’s strokes were forceful, but not urgent. Aria allowed her hips to meet the odd feeling hand, ensuring maximum entry. After the 4 or 5th plunge into Aria, she managed to forget that this woman was only partially human.
Aria felt her pleasure increasing along with her breathing. Her senses were starting to scream. Her moans mingling now, with the other patrons tucked away behind the other closed doors. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the small round table with an assortment of implements.
Aria immediately stopped all movement and turned her head sharply to meet the gaze of Ikarias.
“Madame, perhaps I should have been clearer on what I will allow you to do within the confines of our room” Aria spat out while this reptile’s hand was still buried deeply in her.
Ikarias, smiled… or so it looked to Aria. “Oh my pretty, it is all about choice…my choice.
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(Part 10 by Ikarias) --
Aria tried moving away. Considering the delicate position she was in, anything other than up and down by a small irritating, albeit delicious fraction, was not practical.
"I'm not your whore," Aria held still as the textured fingers moved in knowing ways.
"Absolutely not, my phoenix." Ikarias replied. "Some royalty think the title is all, forgetting how it can block the way of a deeper affection." She pulled off the green-dyed leather lace that held the upper half of her fake-dragon half costume of her human body. It dropped, baring her to the waist. She pressed against Aria's back with her bared breasts, sliding her free hand about and brought the blonde's wrists together, tying them with a loop. She slid her hand back along one arm, then under to cup a full breast.
"Untie me, lizard!" Aria demanded jerking again and holding back a gasp as the odd fingers stroked that soft inner core. Fingers squeezed and rolled her nipple, matching the inner pattern in a most annoying way.
The half-dragon's lips moved to the smaller woman's ear, "Only when you're satisfied, over and over..." Ikarias took the lobe and suckled on it then let her teeth graze over the pulse pounding so hard on the woman's throat.
Her thumb dipped inside to access the sweet nectar coating her fingers, then Ikarias rubbed around the tight nether entry. Her other hand moved down the side, over the swell of a hip and into the soft curls, lower 'til the little bud was exposed tight and hot against her fingers.
"Surround and conquer," Ikarias whispered, pinching the swollen clit and slipping her thumb deep, relishing the gasps and thrusts matching her own. "Rise phoenix, Rise!"
Aria clenched her teeth refusing the scream that wanted to burst out with the exquisite waves that carried her over the edge. The feeling in her nether part was incredible, all those nerves glittering and adding to the tidal wave bearing her up to the sun. Her bound hands gripped the bed, though the half-dragon was courteously supporting her own weight as well as most of Aria's. The woman bit down on her throat just as the peak came, shattering the assassin.
A slow staggered hiss came from Aria's lips, not unlike one Ikarias herself might have made were she more snake and less dragon. She let the woman shake and throb and melt in safety. ~ Must ask her name, the half-dragon thought, catching her own breath. She withdrew carefully and let the woman lie on the bed, on her side while Ikarias slipped off the rest of her costume.
She brought over chilled wine and held the cup to the blonde's lips, letting her get back some fluid. Ikarias saw the raised eyebrow at her appearance, she let the woman sit up while she refilled the cup and finished it herself.
"I don't breathe fire," the half-dragon said as she went to the display table. She looked back at Aria and picked up a mutually beneficial toy then returned to the blonde.
"Untie me, now." Aria demanded. She felt very good; this creature was certainly adept. Such tiny jade scales. A small smile quirked her lips, there goes the shoes and purse.
____****____
(Part 11 by Aria) --
“I said, untie me…”, Ikarias sensed the girl’s urgency and removed the loop, giving the girl access to move about.
Aria climbed onto the lap of this magnificent creature, facing her with legs on either side of the Dragon. Her hands went to either side of Ikarias's face and she laid her lips so that they just barely touched the dragon’s mouth. As Aria moved them ever so gently she asked…
“So... are you interested in my name, my scaled one.”
“I am interested in far more than that, but please start there.”
“They call me Aria, and I am formally - an assassin”
“Formally, little one?” Ikarias pulled away, her eyes clouding from the sensations.
“It seems when you can be seduced by the very life, you are to end, well you are officially in the wrong business.”
“It is just as well, my sweet, had you succeeded and killed me, I would not have been able to do this…”
____****____
(Part 12 by Ikarias) --
Slowly the half-dragon let her lips explore those a breath away. Lightly, firmly, ravenously. The tip of Ikarias' tongue traced over the lush sweet lips then probed to feel deeper. Feathers floated to the floor in ones and twos. Aria's skin was exposed by small sweet portions, and each part tasted. Curve of a throat, dip of a shoulder, down to one of two perfect breasts and Aria pulled away for a moment.
To the questioning look from her lover she undid a small dense area of the peacock eyes and tossed them aside. They fell much more quickly than any down. The small poisonous needles safely away Aria smiled and ran her nails down over very soft, very interestingly textured scales, darkening and rising into an emerald point under her palm.
"Can't have you stop your mission due to an untimely end, especially when we've barely started. Even this, no matter the shade responds like any other breast."
"I may be Ikarias, half-dragon on the one side, but underneath it's all very much woman."
"So I see. And what I don't see now, I will later," Aria promised.
The exploration continued, until Ikarias rolled over Aria and picked up the toy. Both of them were breathing hard, needing more.
"Care to try it?" The angled piece was of soft thin suede sewn over a flexible braided inner core. Ikarias sat back and with a knee up inserted half of the double-ended dildo in herself. She did it slowly, watching the assassin watching her.
"Join me," Ikarias lay back and held out her hands.
The sight of the exotic woman taking in the thicker end had done wonders for Aria's pulse. She moved to straddling the tall warrior, raised herself and felt gentle fingers guiding the remaining shaft into herself. That she was exceedingly wet and more than ready made for a very easy job. With a satisfied sigh she lowered herself, feeling the delicious fullness and the pressure.
Ikarias as Aria pushed into her, she raised her own hips a bit and saw the blonde's expression of surprise and enjoyment. They quickly found a pattern of motion that suited them. Each movement filling and pulling, experience by both.
____****____
(Part 13 by Ikarias) --
The drums pounded for the dancers outside, but the Aria preferred her own rhythm watching the half-dragon under her. Living scales with a warmth and pulse touching her, making her feel very good indeed. Not a bad bargain for the lack of new shoes. Small gasps escaped her blending with those of the warrior under her. She lost sight, hearing , everything but the sensation of exploding and melting.
Not a screamer, at least not here, hmm, I wonder if that could change? Ikarias thought, when thinking became possible again. She rolled so that Aria was under her and eased the toy from them. She made a mental note to take it with her if she could, or at least commit the design and specifics to memory to make one.
"What do you have in mind, O dragon woman?" Aria's stroked the scaled breast feeling the slight irregularities as she brushed her fingers against the scales. She could think of worse ways to spend a night, but few better. And to think, she was going to skip this fete for a quiet night with a scroll and bottle of Friesian Bordeaux.
"That's only two, hardly enough to fill up a summer's night." Ikarias rose up letting her scales do the talking as her fingers did the walking. Her scaled cheek rubbed over Aria's breasts, then she kissed her way back and forth across ribs, delving into the blonde's navel. Something about the arch of hipbones, the bridge and gateway to so many wonders. She teased inside the firm thighs, still wet and sweet with their exertions.
"Two? Oh, your 'over and over' comment." Aria stretched, arms over her head watching the warrior. "I see you believe in divide and conquer." She let her legs open, her heels rubbing along Ikarias' sides, teasing.
"Do you think it's working?" Ikarias asked, kissing away the wetness, teasing the fragrant portal with lips and tongue.
"I--may be--divided." Aria tried to keep communications open between her brain and her mouth. "But I am never conquered." Damn, damn, damn, her hips just defected to the enemy rising and falling with each nefarious swipe and nibble.
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(Part 14 by Ikarias) --
The half-dragon took Aria's prevarication for what it was, a stalling tactic that was woefully deficient, and proceeded to conquer. Her fingers teased and stroked, played and tapped, her eyes watching over the fragrant thatch of blond curls as Aria rose higher and higher and cried out. Her back arched, her face held the perfection of the moment in eternity and Ikarias let her gently crash.
Aria let the shudders subside. She'd be damned before she'd address this very talented woman with a stutter in her voice. "Are you trying to make me a supplicant to the half-dragon throne? I'm not that impressionable." She had to get a handle on this situation, this very good-feeling situation.
Ikarias went up on one elbow, still musing over the soft moist flesh, seeing the little ripples of post-climatic pleasure under the assassin's flesh. "Oh, on the contrary, I thought I was pressing on all the right spots." Saying so she tapped at the little nub of shining pleasure with her scaled thumb and was rewarded with an increase in Aria's breathing.
The blonde's fingers gripped the sheets and wisely decided not to speak. She tried a glare and that faded as the delicious friction increased. The half-dragon's free hand played making circles over her heart, distracting her from the peak, then the pressure was on again.
~ I will NOT scream, ~ Aria bit her lip at the seventh or eighth orgasm. A hoarse gasp came out instead, she didn't have the breath to be any louder. ~ At least I kept that promise to myself, ~ she thought ruefully. She was deliciously sore, impeccably satisfied and vowed to pay back the half-dragon as soon as some of her circulation returned.
******
Ikarias awoke still lying in the pond, her leg felt much better. She climbed out and limped over to the remains of the boar, built up the fire and let the haunch cook further. It was so nice to see Aria again. Of course she'd be pissed that the warrior went after a boar with nothing but PMS backing her up.
She heard a snort and Asher plodded over with an extraordinarily pleased expression on his face. The Percheron had briars and burrs in his grey coat, he did a little two-step with four hooves. He sneezed then reached out to nibble a likely looking bush.
"I take it you got laid while I was fighting for my--oh hell, never mind."
Asher didn't.
A second somewhat more lady-like snort startled Ikarias.
A familiar slight blonde figure came out from behind a tree. "Silly dragon, you go running off to do whatever you need to do and end up with a less than dashing scar. What the hell, ants? Ick."
The half-dragon sighed, then smiled, "Good to see you Aria. And it's Iky."
____****____
The End - 'Damn That Scaly Beast' - by
Ikarias & Aria