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Chapter 2:
Globes of ethereal fire burned within the sconces lined along the wall, casting pale yellow light upon the smoothly carved wood of the railing on the left, and the lacquered wooden wall on the right. They burned without smoke, offered no warmth, the magic keeping them alive molded to fit this one single purpose, of illuminating the inn.
Istaryl sighed, met the face of his sleepy charge, and clambered the first few steps, fanning his toes to increase his purchase upon the fine wood. He had never climbed the stairs carrying a drake—in fact, he hoped Karyl would carry him like this one day. Only, he wouldn’t be asleep, nor lie completely limp, without the faintest trace of a blush.
“How in the world can you sleep so soundly?” Istaryl mused out loud, both irritated and surprised at how utterly ignorant this creature was.
Carrying him seemed manageable, at the very least. He had a supple body, light of weight, his shapely limbs and long tail spilling gracefully past the side of Istaryl’s left arm. No scales covered his body. Everything, from the tip of that cute snout to the end of his thick tail, was smooth and pleasant to the touch, his hide radiating warmth that seeped into Istaryl’s bare body.
The red drake’s cheeks flushed, a swarm of thoughts rampaging through his mind. Who was this young, impressionable drake? How did he end up in the inn? How firm was his butt?
Istaryl bit back a gasp. That was quite indecent! He shouldn’t think of such things! Shouldn’t…
Then again, why shouldn’t he? His protégé dozed off in the middle of an inn; he inadvertently placed Istaryl in a very awkward position. The least he could do was help indulge Istaryl’s curiosities. Not like he would mind or care about it, given his audible snoring.
Istaryl wet his lips with a quick, apprehensive lick, shifting his right hand over the drake’s thigh, inching closer and closer to his butt. Soft, plump muscle glided over his hand on the way there, the foreign drake’s skin soft, his thighs enticing. When Istaryl’s fingertips prodded at the leathers covering his rump, his throat clenched, the electrical jolt rushing along his spine forcing him to stop in the middle of the stairs.
A pressing thought weighed him down, rooting him on the spot.
Grope him through the leathers, or slink his hand through them and grab the real thing?
Istaryl knew he was doomed when steady rivers of fire began to pulsate within his cheeks. His fingers chose their own path, pushing forward, slipping under the drake’s coverings, rolling around the fleshy cheek briefly before cupping it like a prized possession.
“Khh,” Istaryl gasped through gritted teeth, closing his eyes. This was happening. This was really happening! He just groped, and now fondled the enticing butt of his charge, unable to keep his hand still. It just…it was so soft, so plump, so delicate, and the foreign drake’s nostrils shivered, a light, guttural whimper vibrating its way past his throat.
Oh dear heavens!
Globes of ethereal fire burned within the sconces lined along the wall, casting pale yellow light upon the smoothly carved wood of the railing on the left, and the lacquered wooden wall on the right. They burned without smoke, offered no warmth, the magic keeping them alive molded to fit this one single purpose, of illuminating the inn.
Istaryl sighed, met the face of his sleepy charge, and clambered the first few steps, fanning his toes to increase his purchase upon the fine wood. He had never climbed the stairs carrying a drake—in fact, he hoped Karyl would carry him like this one day. Only, he wouldn’t be asleep, nor lie completely limp, without the faintest trace of a blush.
“How in the world can you sleep so soundly?” Istaryl mused out loud, both irritated and surprised at how utterly ignorant this creature was.
Carrying him seemed manageable, at the very least. He had a supple body, light of weight, his shapely limbs and long tail spilling gracefully past the side of Istaryl’s left arm. No scales covered his body. Everything, from the tip of that cute snout to the end of his thick tail, was smooth and pleasant to the touch, his hide radiating warmth that seeped into Istaryl’s bare body.
The red drake’s cheeks flushed, a swarm of thoughts rampaging through his mind. Who was this young, impressionable drake? How did he end up in the inn? How firm was his butt?
Istaryl bit back a gasp. That was quite indecent! He shouldn’t think of such things! Shouldn’t…
Then again, why shouldn’t he? His protégé dozed off in the middle of an inn; he inadvertently placed Istaryl in a very awkward position. The least he could do was help indulge Istaryl’s curiosities. Not like he would mind or care about it, given his audible snoring.
Istaryl wet his lips with a quick, apprehensive lick, shifting his right hand over the drake’s thigh, inching closer and closer to his butt. Soft, plump muscle glided over his hand on the way there, the foreign drake’s skin soft, his thighs enticing. When Istaryl’s fingertips prodded at the leathers covering his rump, his throat clenched, the electrical jolt rushing along his spine forcing him to stop in the middle of the stairs.
A pressing thought weighed him down, rooting him on the spot.
Grope him through the leathers, or slink his hand through them and grab the real thing?
Istaryl knew he was doomed when steady rivers of fire began to pulsate within his cheeks. His fingers chose their own path, pushing forward, slipping under the drake’s coverings, rolling around the fleshy cheek briefly before cupping it like a prized possession.
“Khh,” Istaryl gasped through gritted teeth, closing his eyes. This was happening. This was really happening! He just groped, and now fondled the enticing butt of his charge, unable to keep his hand still. It just…it was so soft, so plump, so delicate, and the foreign drake’s nostrils shivered, a light, guttural whimper vibrating its way past his throat.
Oh dear heavens!
- Author
- Cheetahs
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- Friday 29 April 2016
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- Comics / Gay / 2016 / Hidden Desires
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