Of Foxes & Dragons

Author Notes: This chapter sees some actual sexual activity; heavy petting and masturbation. As you can tell, I'm trying to define the characters before getting into the really meaty sex. ^_^

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There I was, slowly being crushed to death by my reptilian attacker. Okay, so maybe I'm being a tad melodramatic. But it WAS getting a little difficult to breath, what with the she-dragon passed out on top of me and all. The flying types tend to be lighter as a necessity, but she was still larger than my own lanky foxtaur body, so that was more than enough to put of a bit of a strain on me.

I gave the she-dragon's prone form a good shove, but I just couldn't get any leverage. I looked around for anything to help me, like a stick to pry her off me or a root to grab and use to pull myself out from under her. Unfortunately, this pleasant little clearing in the woods appeared to be utterly devoid of anything useful. I tried pushing her again, even though I knew it would be quite useless. This time, my grip slipped on the blood coating her leg and my hand slide right up to the dragoness' crotch.

I drew back my hand like it'd been stuck into a fire. Heaven forbid the dragoness wake up now and find me accidentally coping a feel.

Yes, she was still alive. I could see her chest rising, then falling. Her breath was coming slow and ragged, obviously painful. From this vantage point, I now saw what went unnoticed before: the perky buds of her breasts, which were previously hidden in shadow. Looking down the length of her body, I couldn't help but admire her sinuous beauty, despite the awkwardness of the situation. She really was quite attractive.

Shaking my head, I pushed those thoughts away. It just wouldn't do to fantasize about the she-dragon when I should be finding a way to flee. Besides, not only was she of a different species, but she wasn't even a mammal! Physical limitations aside, such an extreme inter-species relationship couldn't possibly work or even be accepted by the general community.

I pushed those thoughts away again and locked the door to that part of my mind. Focus, Silva!

Lacking a better idea, I began pushing at the she-dragon once more, this time being careful of the placement of my hands. It must have been the combination of the slick mire in which we lay and my own desperation, because I finally found the strength to pull my front paws free of the dragoness' weight. I twisted around as best I could and dug in, then began the laborious process of extricating myself completely. With much effort and a little creative swearing, I finally slid out from under her.

I stayed sprawled out in the mud for a time after that and just savored each breath of crisp night air that rushed into my strained lungs. Then I heard a gurgling snort from the she-dragon as she coughed up some blood in her sleep and I remembered why I was trying so hard to escape. Wearily, I climbed to my feet and started to walk away, picking my way around the wolf body parts that lay scattered around the clearing. I had just made it back to the tree line when the she-dragon groaned in pain and I stopped short. I wasn't so much afraid of her waking up as I was having a fit of conscience.

Should I really just leave her there to die? Yes, the dragoness had been quite perturbed with me. But at the same time, she didn't really seem to want to eat me and she DID get hurt in my stead while fighting the wolves. Or should I heed my dear old mum's advice and "let sleeping dragon's lie"? Then again, my grandmother also use to say "my brains are on fire!" Old mum was a touch batty. I struggled with these conflicting thoughts for an indeterminate amount of time. Across the way, the she-dragon groaned again, but this time, it didn't sound like an angry warrioress or a bloodthirsty predator. This time, it sounded like a young girl, far from home, tired and lonely. It was then that my mind was made up.

I reentered the clearing and minced my way back through the gore to where the dragoness lay, her life-fluid draining from her body. Her breaths were coming more shallowly and her eyes were pinched shut in pain. I laid my hand on her ridged forehead and took note of how cold she had gotten. Resolved to save this young she-dragon's life, I bent down and slipped my arms under hers, getting a firm grip on her torso. With the mightiest heave that I could muster, I pulled her up to a sitting position, which caused her to cry out involuntarily. I swallowed hard, then manipulated her limbs in such a way that I could lift her onto my back and carry her in a riding position.

My feeble muscles protested against the continuous exertion and I knew I was nearing my physical limits, but there was no turning back now. Slogging through the mud became more difficult with our combined weight. With a sick squelching sound, I lifted one paw out of the muck and placed it forward to sink down again, then repeated the process with my other legs. I worked up a rhythm and in this way, eventually managed to stagger into the forest where the ground was harder and more supportive. On and on, I walked. It felt like hours, though I knew it could only be minutes. Despite the burning and cramping in my fatigued body, I knew there could be no rest until I found a safe place to camp in these dangerous woods.

At last, I stumbled upon the perfect spot. There was a gnarled old sycamore tree whose large, knobby roots and low-hanging branches created a neat little shelter that was conveniently out of sight. I gratefully deposited the young dragoness to the soft, loamy ground and then went to scrounge up some herbs. Spending as much time in the forest alone as I have eventually teaches one some very useful things about nature, including what plants have medicinal properties. I quickly mashed a simple poultice that would ease the she-dragon's pain and stop the bleeding. She gasped loudly as I applied it to her wound, but then a slow sigh escaped her lips and I knew it was already working.

Now that she was stable, I applied extra herbs to some of the less critical wounds on her body and tried wiping off the blood that coated her aquamarine-colored scales. Little by little, my solicitous ministrations turned into a sort of tender fondling and I found myself enjoying the feel of her serpentine curves. The dragoness seemed to be resting easier now and I was emboldened by my own generous deed. Loathe though I am to admit this, my experience with the ‘fairer sex' is woefully limited and I was practically salivating at the prospect of such intimate contact.

With some apprehension, I deliberately let my hands slide over the swell of her breasts and was surprised by how soft and pliant they felt. Unlike the hard, interlocking carapace that covered the rest of her body, the underbelly scales were silky smooth and very flexible. I kneaded her breasts gently and the scales separated, revealing stark white skin underneath. Right in the center of her mammaries were the pinkish-hued nipples, just where they'd be on a humanoid mammal. It seemed they were normally protected by the scales, but could still be accessed fairly easily. I lightly fingered the round nubs and wondered if they would grow erect enough to poke out between the scales.

Fascinated though I was by this bit of draconic biology, I forced myself to move further down her body to caress the she-dragon's well-toned abdomen, ultimately coming to the slightly raised mound of her pubis. She was completely hairless--which is what I expected from a reptilian species--and the armored scaling continued all the way to her outer labia. Again, I was pleased by the remarkable suppleness of the she-dragon's body as I gingerly stroked her womanhood. The resistance of the scaled vulva affirmed my suspicion that this young dragon was a virgin. A bit of nimble coercing persuaded them to part and I suddenly felt the moist flesh of her inner labia. The only way I could describe this feeling is by comparing it to poking a finger into a mango, but that couldn't do justice to the amazing tightness and warmth I found there. The short fur of my hand was becoming soaked with her juices and I savored the delightfully squishy sensation.

My ears pricked up, hearing a low moan from a point roughly three feet in front of me. I looked and saw the dragoness' V-shaped snout moving silently, occasionally punctuated with another throaty intonation. All at once, the perversity of my transgression came down on me like a boulder. This she-dragon had wounded herself greatly in the process of protecting me and here I was, taking advantage of her vulnerability for my own gratification. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have the backbone to ask such a magnificent creature the time of day. But given the opportunity, I didn't hesitate to subject her to my repressed depravity. Shame filled me and I felt more miserable and insignificant now than any of my overbearing siblings ever made me feel in my adolescence.

Even then, the nagging desire would not leave my wretched hands. I forbade myself to touch the dragoness again, but there was something else I could do to alleviate this contemptible passion.

Laying down a good distance from the object of my affection, so as not to tempt myself unduly, I reached down between my hind legs to the pouch of foreskin. I almost hoped my own sexual organ would be less cooperative than the she-dragon's, but with equal parts annoyance and relief, the long red shaft of my manhood eagerly slid out of its sheath. I touched myself reluctantly at first, having only done this once before and then feeling none of the guilt. As my eyes roamed over the she-dragon's sinuous form, my hand reflexively grasped the erect member. Her juices still coated my fur and I recalled the incredible feeling of her womanly folds, transferring that sensation to my hand. I stroked the stiff red shaft as quickly and tightly as I could, from its narrow tip to the round bulb, trying to hurry up and finish this embarrassing business. Mere feet from where I lay, the sleeping dragoness was blissfully ignorant of my fevered self-manipulation.

A dozen excuses and justifications flew through my mind. I had just been through a life-and-death ordeal. I was emotionally distressed. My body was tense and weary. I had to find a way to relax. It was better to act on my desires this way than do something even more drastic. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. It was all a farce, but that realization didn't stop me from yanking my erection like it was trying to get away.

A jolt of guilty pleasure surged through my loins as I reached my climax. Gulping in air, I watched as one, two, and then three arcs of creamy seed were purged from my manhood. They splattered on my stomach and hand, drawing a line of heat along my fur. With somewhat morbid curiosity, I poked a finger into a small pool of seed. It felt sticky and warm and disgraceful. Trying not to look at the evidence of my weakness and perversion, I tucked away my drained member and wiped my hands on the grass. Then I dug my hands into the ground and rubbed myself with dirt in an effort to mask the scent of my seed and work away the lingering sensations.

Next to me, the dragoness was sleeping soundly. Her reptilian face appeared strangely gentle and less like the grim features of a deadly predator. Reflecting the pale moonlight, her aqua-hued face seemed to glow with a serene beauty. Her heavy-lidded eyes were decorated with long black lashes that fluttered over her scaled cheeks while she slumbered. A brief twinkle of light caught my attention and I thought I saw a single tear well up in the corner of her eye, but it did not escape the confines of its follicle prison.

My heart skipped a beat. Was I...in love?

The question echoed in a mind that was otherwise empty. No single thought had ever fully occupied my attention like this before. Could it be true? After all this time alone, was I destined to fall for the first female that crossed my path? No, it couldn't be so. She was an entirely different species, one that normally wouldn't think twice about consuming my own. How was it possible for a lanky, awkward foxtaur to love a strong, ferocious dragon? The very notion was absurd. And yet, the more I wondered, the truer it felt.

I mentally berated myself for considering such a foolish notion, but each denial I made became weaker and weaker. I was. I was in love. I was in love with a dragon.