He looked up at the large, gleaming figure bent over him, and pulled his knees up higher. The feverish word as the man pushed inside of him barely registered. Arthur echoed it, strained and quiet, a soft,Mine, that was soon lost to moans and whatever other sounds he made as he was taken. Slowly, but he should never have expected quick. Not with this man growling for each noise he drove out of Arthur and how pleased he was when Arthur shook in his arms and finally came again.
The man pulled out to spill over Arthur’s thighs, and rubbed his spent cock there, too, before giving a great, contented huff and pinning Arthur to the ground with his body.
Arthur once again tangled his fingers into silky, disheveled hair, wanting to hold onto this for as long as he could.
He closed his eyes as he wondered sleepily if the man had a similar idea. The man growled softly against Arthur’s shoulder and whispered, “Mine,” before rolling onto his back and pulling Arthur with him. His body was far more comfortable than the ground, and his fingers trailed down Arthur’s spine until Arthur sighed and relaxed against him.
“My lord,” Arthur murmured in return, and was soothed to slumber by the gentle rumbling through the cave floor.
WHEN ARTHUR WOKE, it was to the realization that it was quiet, as if the rain had stopped. Then that he was warmer than he had thought to be in this cave, and then, oddly, that he was colder than he had been when he had fallen asleep.
He rolled to the side, struggling a little against the volume of blankets tucked around him, and tried to blink his eyes open.
He froze, then opened his eyes all the way.
He had never seen a dragon in the flesh but he unmistakably gazed upon one now.
A long, dark, sleek body stood poised at the end of the cave, which Arthur distantly noted was glowing with morning sun or the light of the fire behind him. It also shined with the reflected sparkle of thousands of gemstones embedded in the massive cave’s stone walls. Rubies and sapphires cast their light back onto the black scales of the dragon, who, even with its head lowered to observe Arthur, nearly reached the ceiling.
The cave had not seemed so large last night, in the dark. The rooms beyond the first had not been visible.
Arthur drew himself up onto his knees, the blankets gathered at his waist, and took one last look at the dragon’s elegant snout and black beard, the sharp claws on its great feet, before he lowered his head respectfully.
His heart was racing, his muscles stiff, but he reminded himself that he had not been attacked. The dragon had waited. It had not even blocked the mouth of the cave. Arthur could run if he wanted.
In the silence following his gesture, Arthur remembered the rest of the night. He jerked his head up, scanning the space for a sign of the man who Arthur might have called lover. But there was only the dragon… and several trays not far from Arthur, heavily laden with fruit and buns and what looked like a roasted duck.
Arthur had heard no servants, and had not woken to any sounds of the man from last night leaving. He also did not think a dragon poised to attack would have laid out a meal.
Arthur trembled but stayed on his knees, kept himself as covered as he could, and finally stared back.
The man had said looking into a dragon’s eyes was like being judged.
The dragon had dark eyes, and a gaze that was not quite ancient, but learned and patient and almost fond. Arthur had seen that look before, many times over the course of one night, and did not fail to blush for it once again.
“I see,” he murmured, because these blankets had also not been here when he had fallen asleep. He had slept on something, someone, much warmer. He had been given smooth pleasure instead of discomfort, and could still feel sticky oil and seed between his thighs. Arthur might have left this cave ignorant of what had truly happened, but instead, he had been presented with this moment.
With this choice.
If you would choose to be mine, that was half of the promise that had been whispered to him so many times even before the dragon had taken him.If you would choose.
As if Arthur was known. As if the dragon had judged Arthur’s value and craved more of his presence. For that alone, Arthur would have offered his service. But the dragon had beaten him to it.
“I am not sure I have an interest in treasure,” Arthur said at last, quietly.
The dragon blinked, then lowered its great head even more, watching Arthur with a mournful air.
“But,” Arthur could not help himself, thinking of the dragon’s lonely tears, of his own, “it was warmer with you next to me.”
A wisp of smoke left the dragon’s nostrils, like a laugh. Then, in a slow, undulating motion, it uncoiled itself and took the steps to stand directly before Arthur and peer down into his face. Its breath was hot and smelled of lightning and fire.
With a heavy, but pleased, sigh that nearly swept Arthur to the ground, the great dragon lowered itself to the floor. It curled its tail with it, tugging Arthur and all his blankets against the dragon’s hot, oddly soft belly.
Arthur stared for another moment, then twisted around to face the creature still gazing at him. When he extended his hand, his palm was nuzzled, so very carefully.
“You choose to be mine?” asked the man, in a newer, louder voice, although the tone was the same, pleading and proud. “Though I am a beast? Will you allow me to serve you?”
Arthur startled, withdrawing his hand before he recovered and dared to run his hand over the regal snout. “I’ve no desire to control you, Great Lord Dragon of the Mountains.”
