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Chapter 7:
In the heat of the moment, with his tightness buried up to the middle into his companion, the only logical way to avoid a full penetration was to put more distance between their joined bodies. To do that, Istaryl went with the first thing that popped into his mind. He rolled to the left, the motion flipping the smaller male onto his back, with Istaryl ending right on top of him. Inadvertently, he slipped further into the drake's depths, touching that very private part of him that slept just as soundly.
The sleepy drake gasped and moaned silently, spreading his thighs further in invitation. He seemed strangely content to have Istaryl lay on top of him, their bodies melting into one another, their genders interlocked.
And Istaryl ended this almost perfect moment by shifting his weight onto his knees, each leg placed evenly around the blue-green drake's thighs. His cock fell right on top of that small, delicate mound, the soft throbs rippling through it making the stranger's entrance shudder ever so softly.
Huffs of one-part pleasure, three parts panic left Istaryl's gaped mouth. His body burned hotter than ever, and his heart thumped so hard, Istaryl thought it would burst any moment now. He had never been put in such anxiety-inducing situation, where every passing second amplified the hollowness growing within his stomach. Fear, shame, and above all, regret converged upon his fragile mind, threatening to unravel him.
Maybe if he wasn't such a pervert himself, Istaryl would have. A sensible, rational drake might have crumbled under the pressure of a thousand possible repercussions, but Istaryl's inner conflict kept his emotions at bay, his stubbornness stronger than any negative outcome to this ridiculous matter.
Why would he regret this? Why carry the blame of what transpired here? He feared that the drake might wake up, which was a valid concern that never came to fruition.
An unfounded worry, nothing more.
He also felt ashamed of invading the young male's privacy, of entering a very sequestered part of his body reserved only to those worthy of his affection. However, the drake himself coerced him into it! If he wouldn't have squirmed and moaned and flashed his erection around, Istaryl wouldn't have intervened. If he wouldn't have rubbed his soggy slit against Istaryl's, the red drake wouldn't have grown erect.
As such, shame didn't belong here. It was a redundant feeling, a product of Istaryl's mind trying to justify his offense. The crux of the matter was that he did nothing wrong. The drake lured him onwards, little by little, and Istaryl did what every sensible drake put in his situation would: to follow the signs.
That had to be it. Everything that had happened here was the product of Istaryl's curiosity, flared by the drake's erotic dreams. Heck, if he wasn't such a sleepy head, then perhaps he would have had something to say in the matter, like growling, shoving Istaryl off him, giving the red drake honest proof that he found such erotic practices vile, that he abhorred such perversion.
However, that wasn't the case, and soon enough, it became clear to Istaryl that the drake enjoyed the attention he received, his epiphany making him wonder whether his companion was truly asleep.
That thought infuriated and excited him in equal measure. If there was one thing Istaryl disliked, that had to do with being played around by others, namely this cute looking bum who had the tendency of falling asleep on counters. Was it an elaborate plan? A joke he devised with Undrethyl in order to test the mettle of the impressionable drakes that perverted innkeeper lured into his fine establishment?
Istaryl couldn't know, let alone guess. The only way to get to the bottom of it was to play his role, and figure out just how many wonderful things he could do to this lovely creature before he woke up.
In the heat of the moment, with his tightness buried up to the middle into his companion, the only logical way to avoid a full penetration was to put more distance between their joined bodies. To do that, Istaryl went with the first thing that popped into his mind. He rolled to the left, the motion flipping the smaller male onto his back, with Istaryl ending right on top of him. Inadvertently, he slipped further into the drake's depths, touching that very private part of him that slept just as soundly.
The sleepy drake gasped and moaned silently, spreading his thighs further in invitation. He seemed strangely content to have Istaryl lay on top of him, their bodies melting into one another, their genders interlocked.
And Istaryl ended this almost perfect moment by shifting his weight onto his knees, each leg placed evenly around the blue-green drake's thighs. His cock fell right on top of that small, delicate mound, the soft throbs rippling through it making the stranger's entrance shudder ever so softly.
Huffs of one-part pleasure, three parts panic left Istaryl's gaped mouth. His body burned hotter than ever, and his heart thumped so hard, Istaryl thought it would burst any moment now. He had never been put in such anxiety-inducing situation, where every passing second amplified the hollowness growing within his stomach. Fear, shame, and above all, regret converged upon his fragile mind, threatening to unravel him.
Maybe if he wasn't such a pervert himself, Istaryl would have. A sensible, rational drake might have crumbled under the pressure of a thousand possible repercussions, but Istaryl's inner conflict kept his emotions at bay, his stubbornness stronger than any negative outcome to this ridiculous matter.
Why would he regret this? Why carry the blame of what transpired here? He feared that the drake might wake up, which was a valid concern that never came to fruition.
An unfounded worry, nothing more.
He also felt ashamed of invading the young male's privacy, of entering a very sequestered part of his body reserved only to those worthy of his affection. However, the drake himself coerced him into it! If he wouldn't have squirmed and moaned and flashed his erection around, Istaryl wouldn't have intervened. If he wouldn't have rubbed his soggy slit against Istaryl's, the red drake wouldn't have grown erect.
As such, shame didn't belong here. It was a redundant feeling, a product of Istaryl's mind trying to justify his offense. The crux of the matter was that he did nothing wrong. The drake lured him onwards, little by little, and Istaryl did what every sensible drake put in his situation would: to follow the signs.
That had to be it. Everything that had happened here was the product of Istaryl's curiosity, flared by the drake's erotic dreams. Heck, if he wasn't such a sleepy head, then perhaps he would have had something to say in the matter, like growling, shoving Istaryl off him, giving the red drake honest proof that he found such erotic practices vile, that he abhorred such perversion.
However, that wasn't the case, and soon enough, it became clear to Istaryl that the drake enjoyed the attention he received, his epiphany making him wonder whether his companion was truly asleep.
That thought infuriated and excited him in equal measure. If there was one thing Istaryl disliked, that had to do with being played around by others, namely this cute looking bum who had the tendency of falling asleep on counters. Was it an elaborate plan? A joke he devised with Undrethyl in order to test the mettle of the impressionable drakes that perverted innkeeper lured into his fine establishment?
Istaryl couldn't know, let alone guess. The only way to get to the bottom of it was to play his role, and figure out just how many wonderful things he could do to this lovely creature before he woke up.
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- Cheetahs
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- Sunday 8 May 2016
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