Author's note: This was first released on a fanfiction site in 2014. Almost nobody read it, which is a shame, because this story's a lot of fun. I'm rereleasing it now more widely after surgically removing all references to its original intellectual property. I'm sure the sharp-eyed reader will have no trouble identifying what this used to be.
Content warnings: it's gay, it's nonhuman and it contains violence (but not in a very serious way).
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Kreel stirred. There was, at first, no outward sign of it: he lay motionless atop his great mound of gold, curled round in a circle so the tip of his long tail rested on the scales of his slender neck. The only evidence that he was awake was the absence of snoring: the deep rumbling purr that had echoed round the huge chamber without pause for days, weeks, months. It had stopped, leaving behind it an absolute silence.
Gradually, he began to move. Here a twitch of a clawed toe, there a flick of an ear, a sniff of a nostril. A single red eye opened half-way.
Something smelt different. His dream had been full of smells: the smokey haze of burning forest, the mouth-watering lure of charred meat, the sharp pang of fear. Fear of him, as men and women ran for their lives. Good smells. Good dream. But it was a real smell that woke him. Something that didn't belong.
An intruder? A spy or thief or would-be dragon slayer? He ran a long, forked tongue over a row of razor-sharp, knife-like teeth. It had been years since he'd last eaten, and there'd be immense fun in putting the fear of Kreel into their heart before he incinerated them. But no. It didn't smell human.
Could it be... that time again? A whole year passed by? He sniffed the air once more. Yes, there was no doubt about it. An acrid, fiery scent, not unlike his own, but darker, older, a smell from the depths of the world. And it was getting stronger. It was coming closer.
Kreel rose up sluggishly on four legs and stretched his long neck, his longer tail, his enormous leathery wings which when unfolded could only barely fit within the huge old hall. He thought about his visitor with some relish. Yes, it was exactly what he needed: a chance to let loose his full power, to get a little exercise and really enjoy himself. And then perhaps nap for another year.
But, maybe to give it a surprise? Quickly he wormed down into the golden heap. First his long-jawed head disappeared beneath the shining metal, then his snakelike neck, next his lithe body armoured in green and silver scales, and finally his great tapering tail. After a brief avalanche of coins, rings and goblets had subsided, silence echoed about the chamber. Deep within the pile, Kreel waited, and listened, smelling his visitor approach.
Soon he could hear it, the distant booming crunch of its footsteps getting louder and louder. He could feel the ground quiver with every one, a steady booming which slowed, and finally, stopped. It had arrived.
Kreel spoke from within the pile, his roaring voice filling the hall. "My, you have climbed a long way to see me, all the way from the deep, uncharted and forgotten places beneath, unsullied by the feet of men. You must be tired! Why not rest a while? Go on, lie yourself down on my luxurious bed of treasures uncountable and sleep!"
The visitor did no such thing, but instead roared a challenge, a vast deep thundering noise like the death cry of a mountain, and stepped closer, slowly.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
It couldn't know where he was hiding. Kreel knew his voice would echo around the chamber chaotically, seeming to come from every direction at once.
"So, once again it is the turning of the year and you are briefly free from your imprisonment. And once again you come to see me, Kreel the Invisible! And once again you challenge me, and once again you shall lose!"
He knew when it was nearly on top of him: the absolute darkness in the heart of the hoard seemed to get even darker, as though a shadow had seeped into it, something blacker than a mere absence of light. And at that moment he launched himself from the pile at a great speed, teeth and claws bared, in the direction he judged it to be.
The demon stood in the heart of a vast cloud of shadow which filled half the great old hall, reaching out tendrils into the farthest corners and seeping into cracks and crevices. Its body blazed with fierce red-orange flame, from its two monolithic fire-shrouded feet to its head where a pair of red eyes shone like suns under two evilly curving horns. In one hand it wielded a giant whip, glowing white with intense heat.
The dragon hit it full in the chest at the head of an explosion of shining gold and jewels, knocking it flat onto its back with an almighty crash. Four scaled legs wrestled with four flaming limbs. Making the best of his momentary advantage, Kreel grabbed the whip in his jaws and ripped it free from the demon's grip, flinging it to one side.
Recovering from its surprise, the demon tore at the dragon's scaled flanks with arms and legs. The searing heat of its grip was no danger to Kreel, a fire drake, who in fact enjoyed the warm tickle of flames, but its great muscles heaved with an irresistible tectonic strength; of all the world's creatures, only a demon could best a dragon in a contest of pure power. Kreel tore and bit with teeth and talons, digging into but never leaving a mark on its strangely slippery, evasive flesh. But slowly the demon was pulling him down, pulling him closer in an embrace which could, if it went any further, squeeze the very life out of him.
He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air, feeling it transform into something hot and potent inside of him. Flame flickered at the back of his throat. Beneath him, the demon opened its maw, and he could see its own fire inside of it, building up, from orange to red to blinding white...
Kreel dropped his head to meet the demon in a forceful and passionate kiss. As he did so they both unleashed the full force of their fire. Two streams of livid flame mingled in their mouths, escaping between their lips in violent jets, flowing back into them, filling them with their shared burning heat. When that first fire had died away, he took another breath and let it out slowly, pushing the burning gas deep into the demon's throat. When the demon replied in kind he inhaled, letting the searing, sulphuric vapour flow into him, caressing him from the inside.
Whilst they kissed, Kreel never once stopped clawing at the demon's side, neither did the demon loosen its grip on Kreel. For dragons, as for demons, passion is inseparable from violence, and lust merely fuelled by mutual hatred.
Kreel felt his blood flow hotter and faster. And a pressure in his loins, as of something trying to break free. He relaxed, letting his long, scaled member unfurl and stiffen below him. He felt it touch something else, something thick and potent and red hot: the demon's own erect shaft.
He pulled back from the kiss and regarded the demon below him with a belittling stare. His feet paused in their clawing and merely dug in deeply.
"Two great swords swing in the hands of their masters," he hissed, pulsing his loins to rub his own cock tauntingly against the demon's, "both yearning to thrust deep into flesh, again and again and again, until they are sated. Only one will get the chance, and it is their masters' speed and skill and strength in battle that will decide."
The demon growled, a deep menacing throb that shook through the stone floor. Demons didn't speak in any tongue, but Kreel knew it understood.
"Do you still believe you can best me, my fiend? Admirably optimistic! But naive! Did you know I am not called Kreel the Impenetrable for nothing?"
