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Lounging Asharya
🕑 Added 2019-08-10 09:25:40 +0000 UTCDragons had always interested Asharya. So much, in fact, that she relinquished the safety of her colony and territory to venture into the lands inhabited by her less predictable kin. She understood wyverns; she even fought a stronger, bigger, more experienced male for the right to share his lands and prey, yet even that failed to give her the thrill of exerting herself all morning and afternoon in search of a good territory to wrestle from a younger, more inexperienced dragon. If he fought well, perhaps she might allow him to stay, just like Krarlhar, the grey wyvern she fought, had permitted her. She didn’t defeat him; no wyvern her size could hope to achieve that. But by impressing him with her abilities, she managed to both secure one of the better territories as well as a future, worthy mate.
The mere thought of that weighed heavily on Asharya’s wings, dragging her down, angling her towards a sun-basked hill surrounded by rocky outcrops. As soon as her feet met the soft, pleasant grass, the wyverness made just enough steps to collapse on the best, richest surface, away from the shade of the only tree growing on it. Panting breaths fled her half-opened maw, her head turning this way and that to scout her surroundings while lounging on her side. Mountains rose where the sun ascended, and flat, even plains spread toward sunset. The best part of this territory, aside from its grand forests and hills dotted by grazing goats, was the scent permeating the crest of her hill.
It had a tartness to it, a faint musk that stirred and enflamed her senses. The more Asharya sniffed the clumps of grass, the more her blood heated, and the further her conviction grew that it belonged to an older, lone dragon. Mated pairs usually bore a figment of each other’s scent, but in his case, the stronger fragrance revealed that he had slept here. That he trickled his arousal in the grass a few days ago while caught in the fetters of a pleasant dream.
After inhaling the foreign yet mesmerizing fragrance, Asharya shifted on top of its strongest source, the toes of her splayed legs as restless as the ever-twitching tip of her tail. Asharya brought it to her snout to give it a couple of licks to moisten it, then guided it to her nether entrance to gently rub her fleshy, exposed lips. Shudders coursed through her, warm and exciting and invigorating, each motion of her soft-scaled tail tip amplifying that sensation.
She did not pierce herself. Much as she would have liked to leave her own puddle where this dragon had leaked his own arousal, Asharya contented herself with the light, pleasant, electrifying tease. Her mind swam with images of a restless, fretful dragon rolling back and forth, completely unsheathed and on the verge of bursting, an inch away from release that wouldn’t come. All of her scales tingled in response at the stimuli brought by her imagination, filling her with an irrational desire to find him and offer to quell his unrest. Few things excited her more than males bursting into their females as soon as they entered them, and with dragons, she never had to worry about bearing their eggs.
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I hope you enjoyed this little slice of life of my rather young and inexperienced wyverness, Asharya. She is just starting to discover her identity, and like with all naive beings bursting with curiosity and energy, family life seem so uneventful and dull. Whereas dragons...dragons are so foreign and exciting, and they provide the perfect opportunity for her to learn how to mate without running the risk of getting pregnant.
Asharya(c) belongs to me, and the short story is also written by me
Artwork done by: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/anastasiyavb/
