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Disturbed from pleasant slumber
🕑 Added 2019-07-23 12:44:46 +0000 UTC
A light rustle snapped Doravar from the gentle caress of his deceased mate’s tongue upon his neck. He did not want to let go of that wonderful dream; to trade the soft, fragrant grass for the cold dampness of his cave and depart from his dragoness’ warm embrace. His member mirrored his emotions. Fully engorged with want and dripping clear, liquid arousal, it craved for nothing more than the blissful shelter of his partner.
As soon as his eyelids flung open to expose his golden eyes to the permeating darkness, everything that he held dear vanished, replaced by self-imposed, perpetrating loneliness. Without waiting a even a single moment for his malehood to retreat back into its confines, Doravar shot for the exit of his cave, stalking out of it in a crouched, silent, predatory position to scout for the one who dared disturb his peace.
There was nothing. No one but scattering birds, buzzing insects, and faint starlight creeping through the thick canopies that sheltered the exit of his underground cave. Doravar’s snarl lessened, the wrinkles along the pebbly scales of his snout lessening as his nostrils widened to take in the scent of the possible intruder.
Nothing but a barely distinguishable trail visited him, too soft to determine whether it was a dragon, wyvern, or another creature who might have entered his territory. When the air failed to betray the identity of the unwanted visitor, Doravar crept left and right, back and forth, his snout shifting from boulder to trees to ferns in an attempt to catch a trail. He seldom bothered with those who crossed his territory. There was nothing of worth in those barren highlands, which is why their vast emptiness appealed him enough to relocate here.
But if a male made it here with the intent to take his place of rest, then his combat skills better matched his boldness, or else…
Just as Doravar’s frustrated, smoldering growl began to take shape, the tensing of his cock turned it into a mellow whimper when he caught the unmistakable trace of a female upon a ring of ferns. He couldn’t tell whether she passed here today, yesterday, a week or more before, or whether she was dragon or wyvern or gryphoness, but the slight spice indicated one of the latter. Before his mind raced to the possibility of following the trail, Doravar loosened his loudest, most terrifying of roars, warning whoever vied for his den to stay away.
Despite his ominous challenge, his ridges swelled at the thought of having his visitor stay, and his tip flared with the urge to spill its great longing into her, should she be foolish enough to come and fight him. In his pent-up state, Doravar knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself if a female ended below him, and that prospect both terrified and excited him. That wasn’t who he was, but it had been so very long since he last entered the wet, comforting depths of a female…
*
Poor Doravar has a bit of a sad backstory, but things eventually get better for him ^^ This is one episode where he still copes with her loss, and because he is the vain type of dragon who thinks that the only proper way for a male to experience climax is through vaginal sex, he often experiences episodes of sexual frustration. He might never admit it himself, but he is in dire need of a female xD
Doravar(c) belongs to me, and the short story is also written by me
Artwork done by: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/anastasiyavb/
