Ailsa followed the dragon to his sleeping area. Varcorak settled on his side upon a sprawl of blankets and cushions, his wings draped behind him. He plucked a silver goblet from his wine crate, uncorked a new bottle and poured some into the vessel. When he held the goblet out towards Ailsa, the webbing stood out between his digits.
Ailsa set the clay pots down then accepted the goblet. “Never knew dragons were such aquatic creatures.”
“Most aren’t.” The dragon tucked the bottle away. He splayed his forepaw, then waggled his fingers and watched the gray webbing stretch. “Remnant of my heritage.”
“So there’s different dragon breeds?” Ailsa rolled the goblet between her hands. It’d fit nicely in her pack.
“There were.” The dragon set his paw back down, then curled his tail and flared out his finned spines, undulating them like fish fins. “Most dragons don’t have webbing. I’m just a creature of the swamp.” He grinned at Ailsa. “Or maybe I’m a malformed oddity.”
“You like toying with people?”
“As if you don’t.” The dragon flicked his claws at Ailsa. “Do you like red wine?”
“More inclined to ale and rum, but I’ve yet to meet a drink I couldn’t finish.” She held the goblet under her nose. The aroma was ripe with plum and cherry. Damn dragon had good taste. “Not something I’d expect a dragon to enjoy.”
“I stole a wagon full of it in my youth and developed a taste.” The dragon lapped at his bowl of wine like an oversized cat.
Ailsa sipped the wine. A hint of tartness and earthy oak balanced the plum and cherry flavors. “This is really good.” She glanced at the box of clothing. “How many girls have you had out here?”
“A few.” The dragon refilled his bowl. “Now that I can’t go around burning things, I get bored. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
“Bored or horny?” Ailsa smirked, swirling her wine.
The dragon grinned. He tucked the bottle away and pushed the crate aside. “Let’s call it both.”
“But never lonely, right?” Ailsa exchanged her goblet for a pot of oil. “Because dragons don’t get lonely?”
Varcorak gazed at his blankets. He traced a single claw around a golden sun emblazoned on a blue quilt. “Dragons might get lonely. A time or two. In their youth.”
Ailsa uncapped the clay pot, an herbal aroma wafted from the oil within. “Have you always lived in the swamp?”
“Yes.” Varcorak kneaded the blanket. “I’ve watched it grow as I’ve grown.”
Ailsa trailed her finger around the inside of the pot, slick with oil. “You said there are still other dragons, right? Your daughter found a mate.”
“Yes, a young male from the west. They adore each other.” He bared his fangs. “But if he mistreats her I’ll beat him to death with his own wings.”
Ailsa smirked. “My father told the first man I was with if he ever laid an unwanted hand on me, he’d throw him in the village well.”
“A wise man.”
“He was.” Ailsa picked up her goblet. “Didn’t like that I ended up following the same path he did.” She stared into her wine. “Sometimes the roads we walk choose us.”
“So he was a mercenary, too?” Varcorak perked his ears, tilting his head.
Ailsa chose her words carefully. She didn’t want a simple, honest chat to be a noose around her neck. “He lived a life of danger and violence. When I was born, he knew he had to change.” Ailsa drank some wine then swapped her goblet for the oil. “Shall I start that massage?”
“Please.” The dragon stretched, luxuriating upon the blankets. “Your father sounds like a criminal.”
“Bodyguard for a criminal.” Ailsa knelt alongside the dragon and worked the oil between her hands. “Till I was born, then he was a town guard. Taught me to defend myself, but wanted me to live a peaceful life. Didn’t work out.”
“Plans rarely do.” Varcorak laid his head upon a purple cushion with silver seams. “My father was a dragon.”
Ailsa laughed, kneading the dragon’s shoulder. “And your mother, I’d wager.” Varcorak stretched his foreleg as Alisa worked his scutes, black and green scales shining in the oil.
“As I recall.” Varcorak closed his eyes, relaxing. “I did not know her well.”
“What was your father like?” Ailsa cradled the dragon’s gray-speckled forepaw, kneading the soft pads.
“Wild.” Varcorak splayed his paw. “My father was the swamp itself. Powerful, unpredictable. A tide to wash away his enemies. He taught me to hunt, to survive, and then he let the swamp raise me a while. If he saw me today, he’d ask me why I lived in here when I had the swamp for shelter.”
“So why do you?” Ailsa caressed the soft, warm webbing between Varcorak’s digits.
“I grew tired of moldy caverns.” The dragon pinned his ears when thunder rumbled. “Even I would be a fool to trust the swamp with my life when it’s in a foul mood.”
“So…” Ailsa glanced at the darkened window. Another flicker of lightning flashed in the distance. “Did the swamp…I mean, your mother…”
“Don’t stray into deep waters, Girl.” Varcorak opened his eyes to bronze slits.
Ailsa nodded. Better not ask about his mother, then. “Ever think about leaving the swamp? You could go west, find other dragons.”
Varcorak sighed, flicking his spines back. “The swamp is my home, Ailsa.” He turned his head, staring at the webbing between his fingers. “Look at my damn paws. I’m as much a part of this swamp as the water.”
Ailsa scowled, oiling her hands. “You sound like you think you’re trapped here.”
The dragon snorted and curled his paw.
Ailsa decided to drop the subject. She couldn’t rob the dragon if he was too upset to sleep. Ailsa smiled at him, and patted his scales. “Lay your head back down.”
The dragon took the purple cushion in his jaws and stretched his neck. He dropped the pillow, and set his head upon it. “How’s this?”
“Perfect.” Ailsa knelt alongside the dragon’s neck, working oil over his green-mottled scales.
Varcorak sighed as the tension melted from his serpentine neck. “That feels nice, Ailsa.”
Ailsa grinned, examining the gray spines decorating the back of Varcorak’s neck. They ran along his backbone, connected by thin, gold-tinged membrane. When they lay flat they overlapped one another. Ailsa ran a single oiled finger alongside his spines. They twitched and lifted a little.
“Think I can tease these into rising?”
“I think can you tease a lot of things into rising.”
“Aw, does little Varcorak want a massage too?” She danced her fingers over the dragon’s spines. “I’ll be sure to oil him up.”
“See that you do.” The dragon lifted his spines for her. “And never call it that again.”
The dragon’s neck spines were dark gray and tipped in gold, an impressive display of ancient beauty and primal threat. The membranes connecting them were mottled with emerald green and edged with more gold. Ailsa traced a finger along one of the green markings upon the smooth skin. The dragon shivered.
“Are you sensitive here?”
“Extremely.” The spines trembled beneath her touch.
“Good to know.”
Ailsa scooped fresh oil from the pot, and rubbed it into the dragon’s neck frill. She worked her hands in circles, polishing the membranes. Varcorak trilled and shuddered, his scales clicking. Ailsa kneaded his neck, loosening the knotted muscles along his spine. The oil made Varcorak’s scales shine in the pale blue light, like polished obsidian dotted with glossy malachite. The tips of his spines gleamed like wet gold. Maybe King Ugly wasn’t so ugly after all.
“You’ve striking colors.” Ailsa traced a finger around a green blotch.
“Yes, I’m ferociously handsome.” The dragon chuckled.
Ailsa worked her way up the dragon’s neck, oiling his scales and frill until she’d reached his head. Once there she caressed his ears and the smaller frills at the sides of his head. By the time she was working oil into the fine scales under his jaw, the dragon was purring. It took Ailsa a moment to realize it, but then it was clear. It sounded like stones cascading down a hill, rumbling and rattling, as though the earth itself found a way to growl.
Ailsa grinned, rubbing his chin. “Didn’t know dragons purred.”
“Keep it a secret.”
Ailsa smirked, massaging the soft area of the dragon’s nose. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“What deal?” The dragon swiveled his ears.
“I’ll keep your secret if you visit your daughter after I leave.” Ailsa stared at her oily hands as she worked them over his face, back to his neck. “You don’t have to stay here.”
“This is my home, Ailsa.” The dragon sighed, his tail curling. “I belong here. My swamp and my town need me.”
Ailsa kept her own sigh to herself as she worked her way back to the dragon’s neck. “So visit other dragons. Find a mate to share the swamp with. It’s just…” Ailsa scowled as cold guilt tugged at her heart. What the hell did she care? “You don’t have to be lonely, Var.”
“Your concern is appreciated.” The dragon’s voice wavered. He glanced at the portraits lining his wall, then at a box set aside from the others. For a moment, pain shone in his eyes, cold and real. It was an anchor heavy enough to pull down all his walls and lies and arrogance. “But I do not think I could save my drowning heart a second time.”
Ailsa leaned her forehead against his neck. “I’m sorry.” Sorry for what she was planning to do.
“As am I, Ailsa.” The dragon turned his anguished gaze upon Ailsa. In a few blinks, the pain was hidden behind bronze walls. “But you’re here for fun, not moping.”
Ailsa grinned. The dragon’s attitude was good armor across old wounds. She’d stop picking at them. She oiled the other side of his neck, then his other shoulder and foreleg. “Your wings are next.”
“My wings can wait.” Varcorak pushed himself halfway to his haunches. “Females should never go long without satisfaction.”
Ailsa quirked a brow, smirking. “Can’t argue that.”
“Then clothes off, Ailsa.” The dragon waved unsheathed claws.
“As you wish, Var.”
Ailsa eased her shirt up, gradually unveiling light bronze skin. She paused when she reached the swell of her breasts, nipples hidden. Ailsa circled a finger around the button of her leather breeches. She ran that finger down the seam of her pants, over her crotch, and then back to her waist. Then she popped the button, easing open the front of her breeches. The dragon’s eyes followed every motion.
Ailsa returned to her blouse, tugging it up an inch at a time. Once her nipples were exposed, she pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. She ran both hands over her breasts, down across her belly, then hooked her thumbs into her unbuttoned breeches. Ailsa dragged her breeches down the swell of her hips, unveiling her mound. She paused before pulling them down enough to reveal her folds. Ailsa saw the dragon’s eyes lingering before she stepped out of her pants.
“There. How’s that?”
Varcorak curled his neck and brushed his muzzle against her cheek. The pebbly texture made her shiver. When she felt his snout drift lower, Ailsa tilted her head. She gasped as wet heat washed across her throat. As he licked her, the dragon’s paw settled on her hip, stroking her skin. His pads were soft and warm. Varcorak’s tongue roamed her throat, his paw explored her body and goose bumps rose in their wake.
Ailsa shuddered when the dragon’s tongue descended over her throat. He tilted his head down, and his chin scales brushed her left breast. When Varcorak nosed at her nipple, Ailsa held her breath and put her hands on his muzzle. The dragon parted his maw, swirled his tongue across her nipple. Ailsa gasped, the dragon’s tongue was just as velvety as a man’s and even hotter. It felt so wonderful twisting across the sensitive bud Ailsa was disappointed when he turned his attention to her other breast.
Varcorak dragged his muzzle against her, and Ailsa felt every fine, pebbly scale bumping against her hardened nipple. The intensity of it was almost too much, yet just when she was going to push him away he rolled his tongue over her. This time the pleasure was even greater as though his scales set her nerves alight in preparation. Ailsa arched her back, groaning.
As Ailsa arched, Varcorak stroked her back. Ailsa gasped when she felt claw tips dragged across her skin. The feeling was as frightening as it was exhilarating. She liked the feeling of nails dragged across her skin but dragon claws were far more dangerous. She shivered as more goose bumps broke out across her in waves.
“I won’t hurt you, Ailsa.”
“I know, Var.” Ailsa didn’t trust Varcorak, but the dragon had little reason to harm her.
Ailsa ran her hands over the dragon’s face as he worshipped her breasts. Each time Varcorak alternated scales and tongue, her head spun. The pebbly texture left her nipples alive with extra sensitivity, and the velvet heat took full advantage. The dragon stroked her back, her ass, her thigh. Claw tips glided across her but never broke the skin. Ailsa’s heat grew with the dragon’s every touch. When his muzzle drifted downward, Ailsa stroked his nose to encourage him.
The dragon eased his muzzle back, patting a blanket. “Get comfortable for your pleasure.”
For such a smug beast, Varcorak sure seemed concerned with her comfort and pleasure. Maybe it was his ego. She wasn’t going to complain. Ailsa dropped to all fours, crawling away from the dragon. She waggled her hips at him, glancing back.
“If I was a dragon, would you want to mount me?”
Varcorak rumbled, his ears perked. Ailsa could see his redness showing beneath his belly. “If you were a dragon, I’d have already mounted you. Alas, I cannot safely fit.”
“I’d better stop teasing, then.” Ailsa fetched a maroon cushion with golden tassels and rolled to her back. She put her head upon the cushion, parting her thighs with her knees up. “How’s this?”
“Perfect.” Varcorak rolled to his side, his belly bared.
Ailsa’s eyes roamed his belly. His crimson spear was exposed and rigid. “Looks like you’re having fun, too.” She stretched a leg to brush her toes against his ridged member.
Varcorak shivered, scales clicking. “I am. But this is about you.” The dragon arched his neck, muzzle touching her thighs. “Do you want me to lick you, Ailsa?”
Ailsa offered only a coy smile in reply.
He peered up at her from between her legs, muzzle so close she felt his warm breath against her most private flesh. “Do you want to feel my tongue?”
Ailsa lifted her hips, squeezing the dragon’s head between her thighs. “Yes, Var.” She kneaded her own breasts. “I want you to lick my pussy. I want to feel your tongue on me. Please, Var.” Ailsa wasn’t normally one to beg, even in play, but stroking his ego ought to maintain his trust. “Please, lick my pussy.”
“If you insist.”
Ailsa gasped at the sheer, stunning heat of Varcorak’s tongue gliding over her mound. This time he did not tease her, he lapped at her. The dragon’s tongue dragged across her folds again and again. Each lick parted her a little more. Moment by moment the sweet warmth slipped deeper inside her. Ailsa shuddered with each new lick. She lifted her rump, hips shaking as she pressed her crotch to the dragon’s snout.
Varcorak curled himself and grabbed her ass, massaging it. Ailsa wriggled between paw and snout. As the warm velvet of his tongue rolled against her, the scales of his muzzle stroked and teased her thighs. Ailsa panted and ran a hand past her belly to further part herself for the dragon. Varcorak tilted his head and Ailsa cried out when his tongue found her clit. The heat was almost too much to bear.
Ailsa kept herself spread with her fingers while the dragon circled his tongue. His soft nose rubbed her sex. Scales brushed her thighs as he twined the tip of his long tongue around her swollen button. Warmth and pleasure rolled through her with every motion of Varcorak’s agile tongue. With her free hand, Ailsa squeezed a breast in time with the dragon’s pleasuring.
Ailsa’s eyes went wide, her mouth hung open in silent gasp when the dragon plunged his tongue inside her. The sudden rush of such intimate warmth made her dig her fingers into her own skin. Varcorak’s tongue twisted inside her and Ailsa rubbed her clit in matching motions. Ailsa gazed at Varcorak. There was a strange thrill in seeing the primal beast working for her pleasure, his muzzle buried between her thighs, horns sprouting above her legs.
Varcorak pumped his tongue, and Ailsa pressed herself against the heat that filled her. Her wetness marked his scales. Ailsa dropped her rump, and the dragon pulled his head back, pink tongue sliding from within her, dragging against her lips. Ailsa’s head lolled back in bliss, her whole body felt as hot as the dragon’s tongue that swirled against her.
Ailsa dropped her head to the cushion, moaning. The dragon’s paws roamed her body. His pads glided in soft circles across her belly. His scales dragged over her skin when he stretched a foreleg to grasp her breast. Varcorak’s paw pads were silken soft against her hardened nipples.
Varcorak’s tongue matched his touch. When he traced circles across her skin, he rolled his tongue tip around her clit. When he stroked her thighs, he bobbed his muzzle against her pussy. Whenever the dragon’s tongue left her clit, Ailsa replaced it with her fingers. Shivers of pleasure ran through her with their every shared touch.
Whenever the dragon’s tongue filled her, the heat was nearly all consuming. Ailsa rolled her hips against the dragon’s snout, wanting more. Varcorak arched his long neck, bobbing his head between Ailsa’s legs. Together they built a primal rhythm, the dragon’s tongue thrust into her each time she arched her back, scales stroking her thighs.
As Ailsa’s bliss grew, so did her moans. Her body trembled and tensed in rising delight. The louder Ailsa got, the more intensity Varcorak poured into his pleasuring. Ailsa writhed against the blankets as the dragon’s tongue returned time and again to the spots and motions that made her cry out.
Wetness dribbled down Ailsa’s thighs as the dragon bobbed his whole head. His scales stroked her skin, his tongue pumped in and out of her. Ailsa’s fingers grew frantic around her clit when the dragon spent a few long moments just swirling his tongue inside her, her pleasure surging.
“Aah!” Ailsa grit her teeth, unable to hold back her cries. “AH! Var! Vaaaar! I’m…ah! AAAHH!”
Ailsa arched her back as she came, her eyes squeezed shut. She ground herself against the dragon’s muzzle, inner walls clenching his tongue as ecstasy consumed her. Varcorak worked his tongue the whole time. Ailsa’s pleasure was drawn into beautiful, lingering moments through which she could scarcely breathe. Her juices soaked the dragon’s nose and pebbly chin. When her orgasm faded, Ailsa sank against the blankets moaning her satisfaction.
Varcorak lapped at her as if cleaning her with his tongue. “Enjoy yourself, Ailsa?”
Not even the dragon’s smugness could darken her afterglow. She stretched out on the blankets, answering him only with a happy sigh.
“Perhaps we shall make that a daily ritual.” Varcorak’s purr filled the room. “You pleasure me, I pleasure you.”
Ailsa smiled, rolling to her side. “You’re pretty good with your tongue.” She propped herself up on her elbow, smirking. “Must be all those gryphons you blow.”
“Been a while since I’ve done that.” Varcorak laughed, curling his tail.
“Pleasure a woman, or blow a gryphon?” Ailsa giggled.
Ailsa laughed with him. She’d have a lot of stories to tell after tonight. She could hear herself warning prospective dragon-slayers now. Careful, the dragon might be busy blowing a gryphon. Don’t give me that look, I know more about dragons than you. I’ve blown one too! In fact, don’t slay him. He may have a daughter somewhere.
An image popped into Ailsa’s head. She saw Varcorak, splashing through the swamp. He was laughing, chasing an adorable little hatchling. The idea that even a dragon could experience such innocent joy made her smile.
“What are you grinning at?”
Ailsa stuck her tongue out at the dragon before her smile turned too wistful. She still had a role to play. “You, you horny lizard. I still have to finish your massage, don’t I?” She glanced at her pack. “Then maybe we’ll sit together, eat some tarts, and just…talk.”
“That sounds nice, Ailsa.” The contentment in Varcorak’s happy sigh almost broke Ailsa’s thieving heart. “That sounds nice.”
I hope you enjoyed the seventh episode of The Devil’s Deal by D. Wilder. Stay tuned for more episodes all week. You can catch up on episodes you may have missed and see the full schedule along with contact information for D. Wilder here.