This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
All characters are over eighteen and clearly written to be so, as in all of my stories.
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Eloria's head spun, the barmaid in the arms of the dragon, who carried the elf as easily as if she was a babe. She whimpered softly, turning her face, trembling, into his neck, though that would not do to hide the stains of tears lingering there, as much as she may have liked to wipe them from existence. The past was not so easy to hide but at least things had not gone as badly as they would have otherwise been destined to -- that was if Angelos had not been there.
The dragon was tall, the difference between them in size comical if he had not just taken her from the clutches of Tane, a scrawny brute of a shrew who had had her backed into a corner, seeing her as nothing more than a piece of meat, something to be snapped up and taken against her will. He'd heard Eloria's screams, even though Angelos had not known that they had belonged to her, barrelling in, scattering the men, though Eloria had already been on the floor, a bruise rising to her cheek, tears behind the pain and humiliation of it all. In her hand had been a small dagger and he admired her strength in fighting back even though it would not have done her any good against six men.
That, at least, had not come to pass, the dragon that she had spent so much time talking to at the bar, interested in his silver scales, how they glittered and dulled in different lights, fascinated by his horns. He'd even let her touch the membrane of his wings at one point, a spark of electricity flowing between them, although they had not acted on it then. Angelos was no stranger to lust and yet he had not pushed things in that direction, wondering and waiting, wanting something more, something, perhaps, where he got to trail his fingers through her long, golden locks of hair in turn for allowing her to touch his wings.
He wanted to be close to her. Yet such a delicate flower as her was apt to be crushed easily. Thus, care and sweetness were to be held lightly in his claws.
Angelos grunted softly, adjusting the weight of the elf woman against his chest as gently as he could, not wanting to jostle her. His heart pounded, yet all was right with her in his arms, though there was still a sense of roiling anger there, the man that had sought to put his hands on her, to sully the elf's kind heart. Her small hand pressed the key to her room into his larger hand, turning the key in the lock with a soft click. At least there, Eloria knew well enough that no one would disturb them through the course of the night, regardless of any sounds they did or did not hear through the walls, taking the time to recover.
"Angelos..."
His rough, calloused hands moved over her, scraping her skin as much as he tried to be gentle.
"Yes, dear?"
His deep, gravelly voice washed over her like the waves brushing the pebbles of the shoreline, leaving an imprint wherever they went, disturbing the shore. Eloria shivered, shaking her head, working her jaw. Yet the words that she wanted to get out were not as easy to spend as she may have wanted them to be.
"I... I'm..." She licked her lips. "I'm glad to be here with you..."
His expression softened and he entered the room slowly, carrying her still, kicking the door closed at their heels. Angelos' heart pounded so loudly that it throbbed against the elf in his arms, her dress ripped and door and her leather jerkin not enough to cover her from the cold of the night.
It was a good thing that the night, therefore, was to be spent in his bed.
He lowered her gently to the bed but she clung to his jerkin, the lantern's flame jumping and flickering, allowing them enough light to see by in the sanctity of the night, the sweetening tryst that was yet to come to pass between them. There was so little space between them, their lips yearning for one another, though she was yet to even have her first proper kiss -- she would not count the one that Tane had forced upon her, after he'd already forced her out of her dress at knife-point. Yet would Angelos be the right one to bring her over that edge into another kind of release?
"Here," he said softly -- well, as softly as he could with his deep tenor of a voice. "Dry off here. I'll...give you some privacy."
Eloria bit her lip delicately, trying not to make it look as if she was. Was he the right one? Her skin flushed with heat, hair still clinging damply to her neck. Oh, there was so much to unpack there...
Angelos had shielded her with his wings while she'd replaced her dress, though it was torn and bloodied in places, soaked through with dirty water in patches. Even then, he had been a gentlemen, and she could not have been more certain that the moment was for them and them alone, everything coming right as she leaned into him, whispering her thanks, her praise for him, for his strength, for everything he had done for her and saved her from.
"Thank you... Oh, Angelos..."
Her words trailed off, despite the pounding of her heart. Gently, she touched his collarbone, eyes wide, a long cut showing through the torn and ragged edges of his scales.
"Oh, you are injured... Angelos, you must let me check your wounds."
The dragon rumbled softly and she would have changed that there was a blush in his cheeks. Did dragons even blush?
