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“How is it manipulated?”
“Usually with the fingers when one is alone, or with the mouth and tongue of a partner, until the climax is reached, and then… god, it’s a delicious feeling. We call it an orgasm.” My own words are sending me into a state of heated arousal. I can feel wetness slipping between my legs. If I wasn’t lying in a dragon’s nest right now, I would be touching myself.
“And that delicious sensation would make you happy, contented, and comfortable?” asks the dragon.
He’s getting far too interested in this topic. “Yes, but sexual pleasure doesn’t solve problems or give lasting comfort. It’s only temporary.”
“All comfort is temporary. That doesn’t make it worthless.” His great body shifts, rustling in the nest. “Show me this part of you again. I will use my tongue to make you content and comfortable.”
“No!” I squeak, pinning my legs together. “That sort of thing isn’t done between dragons and humans, and certainly not between enemies.”
“And why not?”
Why not? demands my body. Why the fuck not?
“It’s wrong,” I whisper. “Like it would be wrong for me to let a horse or a wolf fuck me.”
“But I wouldn’t be fucking you, only licking you. And I’m not a beast, not in that way. I have higher thought.”
“No, I—it’s not that. You’re obviously very intelligent, and—shit, it’s not even about mental acuity—”
“It is because we are enemies. You despise the idea of my tongue on your genitals because you hate me.”
For a moment I picture myself spread wide in the nest, with the dragon’s tapered muzzle between my legs, his tongue sliding out from between his jaws, slipping inside me…
My pussy flutters desperately. It’s all I can do not to press my hand over it.
“You should touch yourself, if that would bring you comfort and pleasure,” says the dragon.
“I can’t do that with you here. It would be inappropriate.”
“So many rules,” he mutters. “If dragons had such parts, and such inclinations, we would take full advantage of them. Life is difficult enough without denying oneself simple pleasures.”
“What qualifies as a simple pleasure for you?”
“A flight at sunset. A good haunch of venison. Plunging through the surf on the beach at dawn.” He heaves a great sigh. “Vylar—my sister—she loved the beach.”
“I don’t know if my mother liked the beach or not. Occasionally she would send me there with a governess, some guards, and a few maids. Sometimes she let me choose a couple daughters of the local nobles to go along. But she never came with us.”
We both fall silent for so long that I’m sure he must have fallen asleep. But he gives another sigh, raw with pain and restlessness. His movements in the nest are jerky, frustrated. I recognize that feeling all too well, when you crave sleep and it’s cruelly elusive.
His sigh gives me a reason to yield to the wicked desires coursing through my body. An excuse to let myself do something truly perverse.
“Would it give you comfort, if I let you lick me?” I ask softly.
He goes still. “It would be a welcome distraction from my thoughts.”
“If I let you do this, you can’t tell anyone. Not your fellow dragons, or any of the captives.”
“I swear on my father’s bones.”
My fingers find the scrap of skirt I fashioned for myself. I draw it up to my waist, then lift my ass and slip off my underwear. “Come on, then,” I whisper.
The sound of his huge body moving ponderously across the nest almost makes me retract my consent. But as I arch my legs and spread my thighs, I place my fingertips lightly over my sex. It’s slick and warm, so sensitive that I moan aloud.
“Did I step on you?” The dragon’s voice is tinged with horror.
“No,” I assure him. “I make noises like that when I’m being pleasured. Many people do.”
