FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 1.

13:44, Sunday, the 4th of March. 2028.

---

It was pathetic, really, how obvious I was being. Sitting there in the folding chair next to the signal booster, pretending to scroll through some settings on my tablet, when really my eyes kept drifting back across the park.

Every time I looked up, there they were.

Hrod, sprawled behind their tarp-covered table, head resting on crossed forelegs, amber eyes half-lidded in the morning light. Their tail flicked idly behind them, the sharp spines along their back catching little glints of sun. Every so often they’d shift atop the grass, rolling their shoulders, arching their back in a way that made their spine ripple, lazy and fluid. They didn’t need clothes to draw attention like some dragons did; they were all lean muscle and polished purple scales, lounging there like they owned the entire boot sale.

And they knew it.

I glanced up again. Immediate mistake.

Their head tilted, a grin spreading slowly across that long, serpentine muzzle. “Cole!” they called out, voice rich, carrying easily across the gap. “Are you fixing the internet or just eye-fucking me from a distance again?”

My jaw clenched as I ducked back to my tablet. “Working,” I muttered.

“Mmh,” Hrod hummed, pushing up onto their elbows, their underplating flexing subtly with the motion. “Thought I felt something burning holes in my scales. Figured it was you.”

I resisted the urge to look again, biting down hard on the inside of my cheek. Just stay focused. Get through the update, check the router logs, and–

“Is the company paying you to be this shy, or is that just a Cole bonus feature?”

I let out a frustrated breath and finally turned. “Don’t you have junk to peddle?” A weak attempt. They were impossible to fluster.

Hrod gave a slow, lazy swish of their tail, knocking an empty cardboard box off their table and onto the grass. “Sold most of it already. Which leaves me plenty of time to be entertained.”

“Yeah, well, I’m working.”

“Barely.”

My throat was dry. I hated how easily they got under my skin, how they could make my heart stutter just by stretching, by flicking their tail, or by dragging their gaze over me like they were deciding where to bite first. It'd been like that for weeks.

Hrod shifted again, rolling to one side, back arching again – just enough to show the clean curve of their underside, soft pale plating along their belly catching in the light. I swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been glancing over every ten seconds since you got here,” they said, grin widening. “Not very subtle.”

“Shut up.”

“Mmm.” They gave an exaggerated yawn, jaws stretching wide, fangs glinting. “You should come by after you’re done. I’ve got tea. Decent stuff, not the shit they serve by the food trucks.”

I blinked. “…Why do you have tea?”

They rolled their shoulders, sleek muscle shifting under smooth violet scales. “Because I’m civilised, obviously. Thought you might want a proper break.”

I squinted at them, trying not to let the surprise show. “No ulterior motive?”

“Oh, plenty of ulterior motives.” Hrod grinned, sharp teeth and all. “But I’ll keep it to tea… if you really want me to.”

The sensible thing to do would have been to say no. Finish my shift. Go home. But my mouth was already running.

“…Fine. After I check the last two routers.”

“Good boy,” Hrod purred, eyes sharp. “See you in an hour.”

#

The market noise faded the further back we went, past the long rows of stalls, to where Hrod had staked out their corner patch of grass. Their tent wasn’t much — just an old canvas canopy with weather-faded sides and a heap of cheap foam pads inside — but it was cooler in the shade, quieter, and smelt faintly of old incense and dragon musk as opposed to engine oil and old folk.

I ducked inside after them, awkwardly folding myself cross-legged on one of the mats they’d placed on the ground. Hrod circled me once before collapsing down across from me, tail flicking, chest rising and falling in a slow, lazy rhythm. No tea set in sight, just a battered thermos.

“Real luxury setup,” I said, eyeing the surroundings. There were boxes in the corner, some bundled blankets and a few bits and pieces that vaguely resembled packaged foods, though nothing I could recognise.

“If you wanted five stars, go fix Wi-Fi at the Ritz, not a field,” Hrod replied, nosing the thermos toward me. “Drink.”

I uncapped it and took a swig like it was cheap wine. The tea wasn’t bad. Hot, earthy, spiced. Better than anything I’d had that day.

Hrod hummed approvingly, long black tongue licking at their scaled chops. “See? I can be nice.”

I shot them a sideways look. “Is this what you call nice? Catcalling me all morning?”

“You liked it.” Their grin stretched wider, eyes half-lidding as they stretched out atop the mats. “You were staring like you wanted to mount me right there on the grass.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “Jesus.”

Hrod’s grin deepened, smug and unhurried. They didn’t move closer, not yet, but their tail gave a slow, idle flick across the foam, just enough to make me aware of how little space there really was between us.

I coughed it off, covering my mouth with the palm of my hand, and forced another sip. The tea helped, slightly. Warm, familiar. I focused on it, on the smooth spiced edge and the way it settled in my stomach, and tried to ignore the way Hrod’s eyes lingered on me, steady and oh so knowing.

“Good tea though,” I muttered, unable to think of anything else to say.

“No shit,” they replied, voice a little smug but lazy, like they didn’t have to try hard to be pleased with themselves. “What kind of barbarian do you take me for?”

I shrugged, setting the cup down beside me. “The sort who spends all morning sprawled out like some Renaissance painting and calls that working.”

Hrod gave a pleased little hum, forelegs shifting slightly where they were crossed, head tipping on one side to rest more comfortably. “I’m a sales professional, Cole. You wouldn’t understand the strategy involved.”

“Strategy”, I echoed dryly, watching their claws idly flex in the grass. “Yeah, real complicated, showing off your ass to passersby.”

“It’s a good ass,” Hrod said without hesitation, tail curling around their haunches in a lazy, self-satisfied loop. “You agree, by the way.”

My mouth pressed into a tight line. I grabbed the thermos again just so I had something to do. Hrod watched me, breathing slow, chest rising and falling in a rhythm I was starting to find annoyingly hypnotic.

We lapsed into a quieter moment, sipping in turns while the outside noise dulled to a soft, distant murmur. I let my shoulders relax a little, letting the warmth bleed out of the tea and settle me.

I glanced up before I could stop myself. Hrod’s muzzle quirked like they’d caught it. Which they probably had.

“…So,” I said, because the silence was making me more nervous than their usual grinning. “Why me?”

They blinked slowly, head tilting.

I gestured vaguely. “Why'd you drag me back here? Like, why me and not someone else?" Bullet, meet foot. Get acquainted.

Their grin faltered. Not by much. Just a little crack at the edges. Their eyes flicked down to their forepaws, then back up. Less sharp, less knowing. For a second, they actually looked soft.

“I like you,” they said, voice quieter, less performative.

My brows went up. “Why though?”

There was a pause. Their tail shifted, curling back toward their own side as if reflexively pulling in. Hrod’s gaze narrowed just slightly, not in irritation. Something more thoughtful.

“…You’re fun,” they said finally, rolling one shoulder in a slow half-shrug. “You don’t know how fun you are, which makes it better. You’re all… like… wound up. Shy. Like a little spring waiting to snap. You smell like awkwardness and repressed thoughts and… I don’t know, straight-boy denial.”

My jaw clenched. “I do not-”

“You reek of it,” Hrod went on, grinning again now, but softer, almost… fond. “And you’ve been checking out my ass since the first time I stretched in front of you.”

I took a quick swallow of tea, still somehow hot enough to make me grimace.

“And I like the way you flinch,” they added, grin widening now, smugness returning like a tide coming in. “You go all stiff, like you’re trying to convince yourself you’re not into me, but your eyes stab you in the back every time.”

I scoffed, tried to look away, play it cool. “You’ve got issues.”

“Probably.” Their tail gave a flick, brushing softly over their side, slow and absent-minded. “But I like you because you’re honest. You think you’re hiding it, but you’re not. And that’s better than the usual lying-for-drinks types.”

I shifted where I sat. “…That’s weirdly nice for you.”

They shrugged again, body rolling slow and easy over their forelegs, the faint ridge of muscle shifting smoothly beneath those pale belly scutes. “I can be nice.”

“I thought you had ulterior motives.”

“Oh, I do,” Hrod said easily, their grin snapping back into place, quick and sharp. “But I still like you.”

I rolled my eyes, but the heat rising in my chest wouldn’t settle. The tea was too warm now, my mouth dry for a different reason.

Hrod shifted, pulling themself subtly closer. Barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Forearms inching forward, chest lowering a little, their bulk making the space between us shrink slowly. Their tail stayed tucked, non-threatening, but their whole posture was leaned just slightly in.

I forced myself to take another drink, pretending not to notice the way their elbow brushed faintly against the edge of my knee.

“Besides”, they added, voice smoother now, low and curling at the edges, “I like projects.”

My brows furrowed. “Projects”.

“Little lost humans who think they have everything figured out,” they mused. “Ones who get all flustered when a dragon pays them attention, who sit in tents drinking tea pretending they’re not imagining what it’d be like to pin me down.”

I choked, again.

Hrod’s grin showed teeth this time, bright and unabashed. “You’re adorable.”

“You’re a menace.”

“Thank you.”

They shifted again, casual and languid, but this time the weight of their claws pressed lightly to my ankle, just resting there. No pressure, no tug, just contact.

“You’re a walking HR complaint,” I muttered, but it came out too softly.

“And yet,” they purred, tone warm and gloating, “here you are.”

They didn’t rush it. Just a slow, creeping shuffle forward, forelimbs adjusting, shoulders bunching and releasing with each subtle shift of weight. I stayed still, fingers tightening around the near-empty thermos, trying to focus on breathing evenly while they stole another inch, then another.

“You humans are weird,” Hrod mused, voice low and conversational, like we were discussing something trivial over lunch. “Most of you look right through us dragons, like you’re afraid catching a glimpse might get you dragged off somewhere.”

I swallowed. “Maybe it’s the teeth.”

“Maybe," they agreed lazily, licking over their long fangs for effect.

They inched closer, slow and heavy, tail sliding over the mats behind them. Their bulk took up more and more of the narrow space, heat radiating off their scales in soft pulses. I shifted where I sat, bracing my hands against the styrofoam, but didn’t move away. Not exactly.

“First it was little peeks,” Hrod continued, tail flicking along my shin, featherlight. “Then it was full stares. Then it was me stretching and you turning bright red and pretending your tablet suddenly got really interesting.”

I didn’t dignify them with a response.

“And now”, they purred, “you’re here, in my tent, drinking my tea, letting me crawl all over you like this.”

I tensed, spine going ramrod straight as Hrod eased forward another half-step, chest grazing my knees now, close enough I could count every tiny seam along their throat scales. Their forelegs folded loosely in front of me, relaxed but ready, as though they could pounce if they wanted. Maybe they could. My heart thudded against my ribs like it was trying to make a run for it.

“Here’s the part I like the most, though,” they murmured, muzzle tilting in, voice all silk. “The part where you pretend you don’t want it. Like you’re just being polite. Like you’re not already half-hard thinking about it.”

My ears burnt hot, hands curling in the grass that crept up through the gaps. “Jesus Christ, Hrod…”

“Not here,” Hrod said cheerfully, tail giving a little thump. “Just me. And you. And that stupid little crush you thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.” They were so close now, their breath warm against my neck, sweet from the tea and thick with something heavier underneath. “And I like it.” Another shuffle ever forward. “You don’t even know what you’re into, do you?” They murmured, letting the words glide smoothly along my nerves. “You just know you look at me, and it does something to you. You don’t get it yet, but you will.”

Their head edged higher, muzzle hovering a breath from my collarbone.

“You could get up right now,” Hrod said quietly. “You could walk out. But you won’t.”

I swallowed, stubbornly not answering, but my legs didn’t move, didn’t even twitch toward standing.

They edged closer, claws raising, slowly, carefully, and took the edge of my collar between two fine talons. “Tell you what,” they said, tone dropping. “You get something you want. I get something I want.”

I blinked.

“I let you use me. Just a little, or maybe a lot.” Their grin was all teeth. “And in return, after, you let me knot that sweet little mouth of yours.”

My stomach twisted. Something between dread and heat and, God, what is happening right now??

My breathing turned ragged before I even realised it, shallow and quick like I’d just sprinted half the field. I stared down at the sharp tips of their claws pinched lightly in the collar of my work shirt, then at their chest, their shoulders, and their hips, where the sleek lines of muscle dipped inward before flaring out again.

I’d never actually… thought about it too hard. What sex they were. What they had between their legs. I guess I’d just assumed.

It was the way they carried themselves, maybe. That smooth, deliberate ease. The lazy stretch of their back, the slow curl of their tail, and the little rolls of their hips when they turned to grab something. The hips themselves, wide enough to draw my eye when they walked off in front of me, were paired with a narrow waist and polished belly plating that gleamed soft and pale in the light. And the voice; scratchy and low, yeah, but not deep. Not like some of the dragons I’d heard bellowing at the fish market.

And the way they looked at me. How easy it was to imagine them pinning me, riding me down into the dirt, teeth at my throat.

My mouth worked uselessly before I gave up and admitted, hoarse, “I… I thought you were a hen…”

Hrod blinked. Then snorted, shoulders hitching as they broke into a lazy, open laugh that cut straight through me. Their chest shook against my legs, the tip of their muzzle brushing my jaw before they sat back just enough to grin wide and wicked in my face.

“Figures,” they said, amused. They nosed closer, teasing, “Want a quick biology lesson, sweetheart?”

I frowned, ears burning, and they tapped their ribs with a claw before stretching out both forelimbs, showing the smooth line of their back, their shoulders, their sides… and notably, the sleek lack of anything sprouting from them.

“No wings,” Hrod said simply, tail giving a slow, amused curl in the air. “Boys don’t get them. Wouldn’t be able to sell jack shit in the wind without getting dragged sideways, would I?”

I blinked, throat working, staring dumbly at their unbroken line of violet scales. Sure enough, no wing membranes, no thick bones folded up along their back. Smooth, sleek, unmarred.

Their grin softened, head tilting just a fraction. “Is that going to be a problem?”

I opened my mouth, stalled, and felt my chest flutter uselessly like it couldn’t figure out whether to clench or melt. Some part of me squirmed deep in my gut. Stupid, irrational, tangled up in the idea of it. That little twist of something that had kept me assuming they were female, something easier, more familiar to pin the feelings to.

But they were ten feet of smug, glittering muscle, pressed up against me, breathing slow and warm against my skin, and they were pretty. Stupidly pretty. A lean waist, flanks made to pull eyes, and a voice that curled inside my ribs and made my brain stutter. I was nineteen and stupid and hard, and every instinct I had was screaming yes, yes they were feminine enough. Who cares about the specifics?

Hrod’s grin sharpened, slow and steady, like they could hear every frantic thought rattling around in my skull and were taking their time savouring the meltdown. They leaned in, pressing more of their weight against me, chest flattening my legs, forcing me to lean further back, heat radiating through my jeans, their scales smooth and solid where they stretched out over me. I could feel the faint catch of their breath across my jaw, warm and steady, like they had all the time in the world.

“Oh, sweetheart,” they purred, “I can be as girly as you need me to be.”

My jaw clenched, uselessly, breathing stuck somewhere between a gasp and a choke. My thighs were pinned beneath them, heart hammering stupidly fast, pulse a frantic mess in my ears. Hrod’s claws shifted, dragging teasing little lines down my collar, blunt side grazing the fabric, and I was certain I was red to the ears. Probably more. My whole body felt too hot.

“You want to think of me as soft?” They went on, voice lowering, syrupy sweet and cruel. “Cute little thing, hips bouncing while you rut away, all whines and fluttery lashes?”

Their grin stretched wider, sharp and glinting. “I can do that for you, darling. You can close your eyes, pretend I’ve got tits, and pretend I’m just some human girl desperate for you.”

I sucked in air, lungs fluttering, throat suddenly dry. For a moment I was worried someone would hear us, or walk in, but then I remembered just how abandoned the corner of the park Hrod had chosen, and ever so slowly I began to realise just why they’d picked it.

“But,” Hrod whispered, words right against my cheek now, claws catching just a little harder at my collar, “after you finish, after you get yourself off nice and messy…” They paused, dragging the moment out like they wanted to feel me squirm. “You’re going to open that mouth for me. Real wide. A pretty fair deal, all things considered.”

I blinked hard, swallowing down something tangled and tight in my chest, but they weren’t done.

“Because I’ve got a cock too, Cole,” they murmured, hot breath skating down my neck. “Not some little human thing either. Thick. Heavy. With a knot made to hold you still and make you swallow every drop.”

My breath shuddered out, ragged and broken, the back of my head thumping gently into the canvas wall, my stomach doing frantic flips between heat and something else.

Fear?

Shame?

The part of me that wanted to shut the whole thing down, stand up, run, and pretend none of this had happened. And the much louder part of me, the desperate nineteen-year-old, the painfully hard part of me, that couldn’t stop staring at the ripple of their hips, the sway of their back, the curve of their crooked grin.

My chest rose and fell like I couldn’t get enough air, my face burning, muscles tight and locked under the weight of them, and God help me, I still didn’t move.

“So?” They asked, casual and quiet, but there was no teasing in it anymore, just a steady question. “Do you want to?”

I couldn’t answer.

Then, softer, almost light, affectionate, “Afterwards… You can call me your girlfriend, if that makes it easier. Doesn’t bother me any.”

That hit harder than it should’ve.

My body betrayed me before my brain caught up.

I gave a small, jerky nod.

Hrod’s grin split wide, but it wasn’t their usual sharp grin. It was smaller, softer, and dangerously sweet. Their eyes narrowed in satisfaction, half-lidded, pleased. Like they’d known exactly how this would end.

“Good boy,” they murmured, tone syrupy, approving.

Then, finally, their claws slipped free of my collar, the too heavy warmth of their body shifting. They pushed off me slowly, dragging their weight back with fluid ease, until the pressure eased from my legs, leaving me feeling too light and far too hot.

With a pleased little hum, Hrod turned, rolling onto their back on one of the foam mats, forelegs flopping comfortably over their chest, tail draped lazily to the side.

“C’mere,” they said lazily, head tipping back to watch me upside down, grin still in place. “Let’s make you feel better.”

I sat there for a second too long, heart hammering, mouth dry, brain not quite catching up with what was happening.

Their hindlegs shifted, long and sleek, and then parted wide. Pale scute stretched down to a subtle crease between their thighs, just above the base of their tail. No obvious anatomy. No cock. No balls. No... anything.

Just a single, smooth, horizontal slit.

I blinked.

They noticed, of course. Of course they noticed.

Their eyes half-lidded, smile lazy and bright. “What, expecting something more dramatic?”

I opened my mouth. Closed it again. My ears were burning.

“I just… I thought…”

“You thought I’d have something hanging out?” They rolled their eyes. “Cole. Sweetheart. I’m a lizard, not one of your cartoon wolf fantasies.”

I coughed, caught between embarrassment and defensive instinct. “I don’t have cartoon wolf fantas-”

“Uh-huh.” Their grin widened, smug and knowing. “Relax. You’ll see it soon enough. He’s just sleeping.”

My face burnt hotter.

I dropped my eyes again, struggling to make sense of what I was seeing. Hrod’s slit twitched subtly as they shifted, tail swaying loosely. It wasn’t just a gap in the plating — it flexed with subtle muscle tension, responsive, alive. But it wasn’t aroused. Not yet, just curious.

They cocked their head at me, expression softening a notch. “You okay?”

“I- yeah. I just…” My voice caught, thin and dry. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Well, you did think I was a girl,” they murmured, stretching their hind legs a little wider, the soft gleam catching the light. “So I guess that tracks.”

I flushed harder and stood up on autopilot, hands fumbling at my belt. I wasn’t even sure why I was undressing yet. Just that I thought I was supposed to. That I’d silently agreed to. That they were sprawled out like that, and they were waiting.

I kicked my shoes off clumsily. Stripped off my shirt. My fingers caught in the hem, and I nearly tripped trying to pull it over my head.

Hrod let out a delighted little laugh. “You’re adorable.”

I glared, still pink. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re enjoying how awkward I am.”

“Oh, but I am,” they said, soft and rich. “You’re all nerves and stiff fingers and virginity. It’s cute.”

I finished pulling off my jeans, stepping out of them in a crumpled pile. I hesitated at the last barrier; boxers stretched tight over my erection, a visible tent that I couldn’t hide.

Hrod tilted their head. “Are you going to make me beg?”

I exhaled, bit my lip, and pushed them down.

Naked.

Hard.

Exposed.

Hrod’s eyes slid down my body, slow and deliberate. Not leering, just assessing. Like they were confirming something they’d already suspected. Their ears flicked once, pleased.

“Good boy,” they murmured, voice all syrup. “Now come here.”

I stepped forward, skin prickling in the cool air of the tent, every nerve screaming_, You are naked in front of a dragon_. I knelt between their hindlegs, careful, heart pounding, trying to keep my eyes anywhere but their slit. But I kept flicking back. Curious. Compelled. My hands found the areas beside their chest, and I leaned further forward, half lined up.

Somehow my knees already ached from where they dug into the foam pads, and my heart was going way too fast. I could smell them — something faint and sharp, like musk and sour honey and something almost electric.

My cock throbbed, embarrassingly hard, hovering just above their smooth, pale underside. They were laid out beneath me like a trap, all long limbs and gleaming violet scales, hindlegs spread and relaxed. At the centre of them: that slit.

It looked… soft. Glossy. Closed. Just a neat horizontal crease where something should have been but wasn’t, at least not yet. I raised a hand up, balancing awkwardly, my fingers hovering above it, uncertain.

“Go on,” Hrod said, voice lazy. “It won’t bite.”

I swallowed. Then reached down, fingertips brushing the edge of the slit. The texture was different. Slicker, warmer, more pliant. It twitched under my hand.

And then, as I massaged it in anxious circles, something moved.

The slit parted. A thick, dark shape pressed forward, swelling rapidly as it emerged from inside them with a slow, heavy pulse.

I jerked my hand back instinctively. “W-What…?”

It rose between their legs like it had a mind of its own: long, flushed darker than the rest of their scales, already glistening with a wet sheen, the base thickening fast into a rounded knot. Veins stood out faintly along the shaft, and the tip flared slightly, ridged and animalistic.

I just stared.

My brain went totally blank.

That was a cock. There was no question.

Hrod arched their back slightly, the movement making it bob once, pulsing softly in the air between us. They looked up at me, smirking, ears pink, flushed, not totally composed for once in their life.

“Well”, they said, voice low and smug, “you found the boy part.”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

“Wasn’t sure if you were going to touch it,” they added, tilting their head with a lazy flick of their tail. “But you did. So now he’s curious.”

I looked down again, still frozen in place. “I—I don’t know where I’m supposed to… go.”

“Mmm. Tricky, isn’t it?” Their grin widened just a little. “Thought you were going to slide into something soft and neat, didn’t you?”

“I… yeah?”

They made a sound deep in their throat, almost a purr. “I can be soft."

I swallowed. “So what now?”

Hrod shrugged, forearms folding behind their head as they sprawled wider, cock now fully hard between us, the knot swelling thicker with every slow beat. “Now you decide. You came here to fuck me. I’m still very much open to that.” Their slit twitched around the base of their cock, glossy and faintly parted. Still an option. The only option, I realised. There were no other entrances.

They smiled up at me. Not pushing. Not backing off either.

“So?” They asked, voice softer now, eyes catching the light. “Still want me?”

I swallowed and shifted forward, lining myself up with shaking hands. My tip brushed against that slick crease and slid up, not in, dragging across the underside of their cock. Hrod hissed softly, head tipping back and I tried not to shiver at the contact.

“Big miss, babe,” they breathed, voice silky. “Unless you want to just jerk me off.”

Face burning, I adjusted again.

Another slide, closer, lower, too slick, and my cock wedged awkwardly between their shaft and the heat beneath it. It was soft there, damp with arousal, but I couldn’t tell if I was in or just rubbing around it.

“Almost”, they purred. “Little more to the left. You’re teasing me now.”

I gasped, frustrated, pushing blindly, rutting more than guiding. Their dick throbbed against my stomach, leaving smears of pre-cum across my skin as I fumbled, cock twitching with every graze.

Then suddenly I sank in.

The heat of their cloaca sucked me in all at once, tight and wet, and comfortable, too much too fast. My arms trembled as I choked on a moan, almost burying myself to the hilt before I even realised what happened. Virginity wiped in one quick thrust.

“Oh, fuck-”

“Good boy,” Hrod growled, breath hitching. “There you go. Found it. The loophole.”

The walls of their cloaca fluttered around me, hot and squeezing, rippling in a way no fantasy could’ve prepared me for. My hips jerked reflexively, grinding deeper as my chest collapsed forward, forehead pressing into their chest. I could feel their dick pulsing against my skin, twitching with every shaky, broken thrust.

“You’re rubbing him,” they gasped, voice ragged but pleased. “You’re inside me and rubbing against him. Lucky boy.”

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe.

Every inch of me was wired into that heat — tight and slick and pulling on me like it wanted to keep me there forever. My cock throbbed inside them, twitching helplessly with every desperate grind. My brain was mush. My body moved on instinct, hips driving forward again and again in messy little jerks, the rhythm uneven but growing faster, more urgent.

I was fucking them. I was inside a dragon, and not just any dragon, but Hrodvitnir. Their tight cloaca gripped me like it had been made for me, hot and wet and twitching with every movement, milking me, the walls ridged gently, stimulating every nerve on the sensitive head. And the whole time, their cock lay between us, pinned to their belly by the press of my stomach, thick and dark and leaking, pulsing in sync with my own.

I couldn’t stop touching it. Every thrust shoved me against it, dragged slick wetness along its length, and forced it to grind between us. And they let me. They wanted me to.

“You’re doing so well,” Hrod murmured, voice like honey. “Fucking me just right. That little cock of yours hits every spot.”

I gasped, hips stuttering. My arms trembled where they held me up, elbows buckling slowly under the strain.

“I can feel you,” they went on, breath warm against my ear. “Every little twitch. You’re so worked up you’re practically shaking.”

I was. God, I was. I could barely hold myself up. My thighs trembled. My back ached from the awkward angle. My hands dug uselessly into the mats. But still I kept going, rutting harder now, less careful, panting against them.

They shifted beneath me—just a little, angling their hips so the angle pulled tighter. I let out a strangled sound as their cloaca squeezed harder around my shaft, the new friction edging me that much closer.

Hrod groaned softly, tail curling lazily beneath me.

“Mmm—that’s it,” they said, voice thick now, low and dark and just a little breathless. “You feel that? That’s me clenching for you. Helping you finish.”

My breath hitched hard. I thrust again, harder, and their cock throbbed between our stomachs, slick now with both our fluids, smearing across my skin with every grind.

“You like rubbing against my cock, huh?” They whispered, grinning. “Even while you’re buried inside me like a good little straight boy?”

I whined, actually whined, too far gone to pretend I wasn’t teetering on the edge. My hips snapped again, then again, faster now, chasing the heat, chasing the pressure, chasing the end.

“I could flip you over right now,” they purred, voice curling around my brain. “Slide into you instead. Tie you down with that knot you’ve been humping all this time. Wouldn’t take much.”

My whole body spasmed. My rhythm broke.

“No?” They teased, breath hot. “Not yet? Then keep going. Don’t stop. Show me what you’ve got, Cole.”

I couldn’t answer. Couldn't form words.

I just thrust again and again and again, messy and desperate, rutting into them like I was made for it. Their cloaca squeezed tighter with every thrust, rippling around me in rhythmic pulses. The ridges weren't meant for pleasure, just formations of muscle, but I didn't care, couldn't care.

“God, you’re so close,” they gasped, finally losing some of that smug edge. “I can feel you tightening up- ah, fuck, Cole-”

It was too much. The pressure. The heat. Their voice in my ear. The constant grind of their shaft trapped between our bellies.

And then it hit me.

White heat. My body locked up, hips jerking once, then twice, and then I came with a broken cry, spilling into them in helpless, twitching pulses. My cock throbbed deep inside their cloaca, every spurt dragging another ragged moan from my lips as my vision went white around the edges.

Hrod moaned, sharp and low, their hindlegs twitching on either side of me.

I collapsed forward, chest heaving, body spent and shaking. My cock throbbed in aftershocks, weak and pulsing, while their own still lay trapped beneath us — hard, neglected, throbbing.

They laughed, breathless.

“Well, someone’s going to have to return the favour after that,” they murmured, leaning forward and licking the side of my face. “And I know exactly how I want it.”

I let out a weak breath against their shoulder, still trembling. My arms barely held me up, and my hips twitched with every aftershock. My cock slipped from their body with a wet, defeated sound, leaving me feeling empty, raw, and slick with more than just my own mess.

Hrod groaned under me, hips tilting with the movement. Their cock, thick and flushed dark, pulsed against my stomach, heavy with need.

“You’re not done yet,” they murmured, amused. “Shuffle back, pet. Mouth’s next.”

I blinked, dazed, and lifted my head just enough to meet their eyes. They looked smug. Of course they did.

We'd made a deal, and they intended for me to honour it.

I swallowed, then obeyed.

My body moved on instinct now, heat humming under my skin, nerves frayed but still sparking. I pushed myself up, arms shaking, and slid backward on my knees. My legs ached, everything sticky and too hot, but I kept going, kept backing up, sitting back onto my calves whilst they shuffled back and sat up just slightly, my face near their crotch now, hindlegs on either side of me.

Hrod shifted their hips just a little, casually grinding up into the air. Their cock dragged across the underside, wet with arousal, and bobbing with every movement.

“There we go,” they purred, looking down their snout at me. “Right where I want you.”

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t. I stared, not even blinking, while their cock loomed in front of me like a promise and a threat.

“I want your mouth around it,” they went on, voice low, dark with heat. “And I want it messy.”

Their tail curled lazily beside me, a slow, steady loop. I could feel the warmth of their body rising off their hips, see every glistening ridge and vein. Their knot pulsed, broad and slick.

“You’ve already humped it,” they added, with a sharp little grin. “Might as well finish the job.”

I swallowed hard. Their hind legs framed me, thighs relaxed but open, bracketing my shoulders. Their forearms were tucked behind their head, like they were reclining, like I was just something between them and a nap.

But that cock said otherwise.

Slowly, I leaned forward.

My breath hitched as I leaned in.

Hrod watched me lazily, their forelegs still behind their head, smug as a sunbathing cat. Their cock twitched again, right there in front of my face. Slick and dark.

“You’ve got the prettiest lips,” they murmured, voice velvet-drenched.

I flushed violently. My fingers hovered at their hips, unsure where to hold, unsure if I even should. My nose brushed their shaft, and I froze, catching the full weight of their scent: sharp, slick, and earthy. Musky.

Everything in me seized for half a second.

They didn’t say anything.

They didn’t need to.

The silence was worse.

Then their voice, soft and cruel: “Still pretending you’re straight, sweetheart?”

I opened my mouth to protest — stupid, automatic — but before I could speak, they shifted their hips forward and pressed.

The tip smeared a trail of pre-cum along my cheek. Warm. Wet. Undeniably real.

I shuddered.

Hrod let out a low, rumbling purr. “That’s better. Now open up.”

I did. Hesitantly. My lips parted, breath shaky.

The first taste hit my tongue before I was ready: salty, thick, and bitter at the back, but not awful. Just… intense. Like them. My tongue curled instinctively, trying to figure out how to handle something so alien in shape and feel.

“Good boy,” they cooed, voice dripping. “Suck.”

I obeyed. I don’t know why — some stupid part of me needing to prove I could. That I wasn’t afraid. That I wasn’t-

“You look so cute like that,” Hrod murmured, still lounging, still in control. “All that denial, and here you are. Lips wrapped around my cock.”

I groaned, low in my throat.

I hated how much that did to me.

They rolled their hips gently, guiding more of their shaft into my mouth. My jaw stretched around them. Not deep yet, but thick enough to make my chest flutter with nerves. I wrapped a hand around the base for balance, thumb brushing the edge of their knot, slick with anticipation.

“You can go deeper,” they said, gently smug. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about it. Maybe not like this. But you’ve imagined giving in. Haven’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

My tongue worked along the underside of their cock, tasting salt and musk and something uniquely them. I bobbed shallowly, trying to breathe through my nose, trying to hold eye contact without drowning in it.

A whine escaped me. I hated it.

“I bet this is the first time you’ve ever gone down on anyone,” they mused, watching me closely. “And you picked me. A dragon. One who’s going to knot your throat if you keep that up.”

I gagged before I could stop it, but Hrod was already there, leaning forward just slightly and stroking the side of my throat with one soft, smug paw.

“Easy,” they crooned. “You’ve got more room than you think.”

I whimpered, barely able to breathe. The taste was intense; raw and bitter, salty with prey, soaked in heat and pressure and inevitability. My tongue had nowhere to go, flattened under the weight of them.

They pushed deeper.

The pressure at the back of my throat made my eyes water. I choked, trying to pull back, but their claws found my scalp, holding me in place. Not hurting. Just firm.

“Uh-uh,” they said, breath ghosting over my hair. “You’re taking it.”

I gagged once more, jaw straining, lips stretched around a shaft too big to make sense of. The knot bumped my chin again, throbbing, pressing up, wanting in.

My hands scrabbled at their thighs, hot, slick, and muscular, but I didn’t shove myself away. I couldn’t. Not really.

They knew it.

“Ohh, you’re so cute like this,” they growled. “Struggling. Drooling. Trying so hard not to enjoy it.”

They rolled their hips forward again, not fast, but slow and deliberate, letting the shaft slide deep, then pulling back down, just to feel my mouth suck helplessly as it left.

I gasped around it, eyes watering, throat fluttering.

“You’re learning so fast,” they said sweetly. “Didn’t even know if you liked me an hour ago. And now look at you. Mouth full of dragon cock.”

I moaned — humiliated, flushed — but my body still responded. My throat relaxed, jaw aching, mind blank. I was too far gone to hide it anymore.

Their rhythm changed. Slower now. Deeper. Each thrust dragged the full length of their cock across my tongue before bottoming out again, the fat swell of their knot nudging harder against my lips, asking for entry. Begging. Demanding.

I gagged. Reflexive. My throat clamped. But they didn’t pull back. Just sighed and cupped my cheek gently.

“Shhh,” they whispered. “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

Their dewclaw brushed my jaw, tender even as they fed me more.

“I’m gonna tie this sweet little mouth,” they murmured, voice all honeyed heat. “Hold you in place. Fill that throat until you’re full.”

I trembled. Shook my head weakly — not a no, not quite — and the motion just made the knot grind harder against me, spreading my lips wider. My throat was already slick, stretched, and aching from the effort to keep up.

But they were close.

I could feel it. The way their shaft twitched against my tongue. The sharpness in their breath. Their hips stuttering slightly, needing, trying not to finish before it happened.

“You’ll feel it when it locks,” they gasped, eyes fluttering. “When it pops inside. You’ll know I’m not pulling out.”

I whimpered around them, overwhelmed and overstretched, but I didn’t move away.

“I want you messy,” they breathed. “Want you drooling around my knot, baby. Want you full of me.”

And then they pushed.

One deep, slow thrust. Firmer than before, and the pressure against my mouth built all at once. Wider. Firmer. My lips parted further than they ever had, my jaw screamed, and then the knot popped inside.

I choked on a breath that never came.

My throat clenched automatically, locked around the girth now filling me. My lips sealed behind the swell. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it was too much. Too big. Too deep. The sense of pressure, of fullness, made my whole body jerk.

“Oh fuck,” they gasped. “Cole-”

They twitched, once, then twice, and then I felt it: the first thick pulse of cum flooding straight into my throat.

I tried to swallow, instinctively, but I couldn’t keep up. It was hot, thick, and endless, coating everything. Some of it spilt out the corners of my mouth despite the knot and dripped down my chin.

They moaned sweetly, not cruel — it was too much for them too.

“Just like that,” they breathed. “Just like that, baby. Let me have it. Let me fill you.”

Their paws stroked my hair, keeping me steady, cradling me even as they kept me in place.

“You’re perfect,” they whispered, high and shaking. “God, you’re perfect like this.”

I didn’t pull back. I couldn’t.

And I didn’t want to.

I stayed right there, jaw locked around their knot, throat bulging with every slow, pulsing pump. Their hips rocked gently, letting me feel it. Letting me know I had them.

Eventually, they stilled.

We breathed. Or… they did. I couldn’t yet.

“Still knotted,” they whispered, sounding pleased. Their claws ran gently through my hair, smoothing it back. One of their claws toyed lazily with a lock before smoothing it down. “Guess we’re stuck like this.”

I felt them sigh, completely relaxed now, still pulsing faintly in my throat, though the worst of it had passed.

“You did good,” they added, quieter this time. “Didn’t think you’d take all of it. Didn’t think you’d let me.”

They sounded almost proud. And a little surprised.

“Should get you a little ribbon or something,” they yawned. “‘Best in show.’”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but blink slowly and breathe through my nose, still stretched around them. But I didn’t need to answer.

They curled against me a little tighter.

“You’re warm,” they mumbled, voice already fading. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Another kiss to my forehead. Lingered, this time.

“Just stay.”

And I did. Even when the knot loosened and we separated, slow and messy and aching, I stayed. Even when the high faded and the shame and embarrassment came crashing in, I stayed. My throat was sore, my limbs jelly, my jaw clicked when I moved it. Work would be pissed I’d taken so long to get back, but I didn’t care.

I really was stuck to them. More so when they pulled out a blanket from somewhere beneath the tent and insisted I lie down. They wrapped around me like it was the most natural thing in the world. No teasing, for once. Just warmth. Claws against my back. The sound of their breath.

I stared at the roof of the tent, my heart still thudding faintly in my ribs.

…I wondered what had happened to their wares. The display. The books. The drinks and pins and strange half-wrapped bundles.

Probably scattered. Ruined. Forgotten.

But they didn’t seem to mind.

Neither did I.