Chapter 5: Strange Bedfellows

Iden watched as Isabelle went back and forth, creating a pile of fabric that she had sourced from all over her cave. It was comprised of silken curtains, canopies from lavish beds, and elaborately embroidered drapes. There were billowing dresses, extravagant tunics, and gowns made from the finest satin that must have once been part of some wealthy woman’s wardrobe. Instead of blankets, she had assembled piles of fur coats and warm capes. These fineries alone were probably worth more than the price on her head, and here she was using them in lieu of a common sleeping bag. It looked like the most expensive rat’s nest that had ever been assembled, perhaps ten feet by ten feet, deep and plush enough that he couldn’t even feel the cold and the hardness of the floor beneath it.

“Will this do?” she asked, watching as he ran his fingers through one of the fluffy animal pelts. It might be bear or maybe wolf, he wasn’t quite sure, but it was the softest thing that he had ever felt.

“I’ll say,” he muttered. “Are we going to brush our teeth with fine wine, and maybe burn some mahogany furniture for warmth, too?”

“You want a fire? I can take care of that,” she announced. She cupped her hands in front of her mouth like she was blowing on them to warm them in cold weather, and Iden saw a light appear. It shined through her skin, giving it a red hue, the outlines of her veins visible. She opened her fingers to show him a dancing flame that was resting in her palm, like a candle, but with no wick or fuel source in sight. It was more magic, cold fire.

She placed it on the ground beside the makeshift bed, where it continued to burn, even as it rested on the moist rock. It grew and spread until it reached the size of a roaring campfire. Despite the fact that it hadn’t hurt Isabelle, he could feel the heat that was coming off it, driving away the pervasive cold of the cave.

“That wasn’t quite what I meant,” Iden said, watching the flames dance. “But it’ll do.”

He slipped off his ridiculous shoes and sat down, sliding beneath the layers of silky fur, quickly warming as they trapped his body heat. The pile of gowns and curtains cushioned him, it was far more comfortable than he had anticipated.

Iden felt so out of place here, wearing these clothes, sleeping amongst this mass of expensive fabrics. The mound of treasure still caught the light from the torches, and he gazed up at the ceiling, watching the shimmering reflection. One by one, the torches faded, casting the cave into darkness save for the magical campfire that Isabelle had conjured. Only now did he realized how sore he was, his body bruised and aching. The climb had been trying, the battle with the dragon even moreso. As he began to close his eyes, he felt shuffling, opening them to see Isabelle sneaking into the makeshift bed beside him.

“Uh ... what are you doing?” he asked, and she paused with the fluffy pelts half-covering her.

“I’m going to sleep.”

“With me?” he asked.

“Why not? We’ve slept together until now, right?”

“Yes, but that was because we had no other choice. You would have ... well, you led me to believe that you would have frozen solid if you had not been able to share my tent. But now we’re in your cave, there’s no need to share. How do you usually sleep?”

“Well, I’m usually in my ... natural form, and I sleep atop my pile.” It wasn’t hard to imagine the great beast coiled around the mountain of treasure like a giant serpent. “But now, I’m in my human form, so...”

“Alright,” he grumbled, “I suppose we have more room that we did in my sleeping bag.”

She lay down beside him, throwing the furry blankets over them, draping an arm about his broad chest. She stroked the soft silk of his fancy tunic with her slim fingers, seeming to enjoy the way that it clung to his figure. It was of her design, after all, he wasn’t wearing it by accident.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, looking over to see her green eyes peering back at him in the gloom. She shuffled closer, and he could feel the softness of her bust through her blouse as it pressed up against him.

“Come on, Iden,” she whispered. “Don’t play coy. I saw the way that you looked at me during our journey up the mountain, the way that your eyes lingered on my ... assets. This form is young, vigorous, beautiful. I made it so, I designed Isabelle to be pleasing, enticing...”

Her fingers roamed lower, sliding against the slick fabric of his shirt, tracing the contours of his muscled stomach. Iden considered pushing her hand away, but he felt a twinge in his loins, his body responding to her despite himself. He had been on the road for so many weeks without sight nor sound of a woman, and his need was great. Women had always been his weakness. When it came to the fairer sex, he had about as much ability to resist their charms as a drunk could resist a hearty draw from a pitcher of ale.

“You wanted Isabelle, I could feel it,” she continued. “But you were too much of a gentleman to act on your desires. You don’t have to hide your feelings anymore, you can set them loose. The more unrestrained, the better...”

She paused above his belt as if waiting for his permission to slide lower, batting her long lashes at him expectantly. Gods, she looked so radiant in the light of the fire. Her skin was as white as snow, her cheeks tinted pink, her lips full and rosy. Her green eyes shone like the emeralds that she hoarded in her prized collection, her mane of long hair the color of autumn leaves.

“Do dragons ... like humans?” he mumbled. “Shouldn’t you seek out a man with rough scales, and a long tail, who can breathe fire?”

“It’s been generations since I’ve seen another dragon,” she replied, averting her gaze as she was temporarily lost in thought. “Can you imagine what that’s like? To go hundreds of years without so much as speaking to another of your own kind?”

He could indeed. Iden had only gone a few weeks without enjoying the company of a woman, and he was already chomping at the bit, but it seemed a rather uncouth thing to admit in the moment.

“It must have made you very lonely,” he said, and she nodded her head. “But did you not seek the company of other humans?”

“I did, on occasion, but ... it’s all a farce. All that I can manage are a few fleeting encounters here and there, I can never stay in one place for too long, I can never develop a real relationship with someone. When a certain amount of time has passed, they inevitably start asking questions that I can’t answer. Where do you live, who are your parents, what’s your profession. They can never know who I truly am. I grew tired of playing those games, it was always the same, every interaction arriving at the same conclusion.”

“Why not take human form permanently, and live out your life amongst the mortals?” Iden asked. “It’s not as though strangers never move from place to place, there are always new arrivals in towns and cities, people seeking to leave their old identity behind. You wouldn’t have to explain anything.”

“It would be a life of theater,” she replied. “I do not hide my draconic form out of shame, but out of necessity, because I will be hunted if I reveal it. I could not give up my true identity, not to mention leaving my collection unguarded,” she added with a glance at her hoard. “Perhaps I could pose as a newcomer to a quiet mountain village, such as the one deep in the valley, but it would surely arouse suspicion in such tightly-knit communities. I must also eat enough to sustain a dragon, regardless of my appearance. A beautiful young woman who appeared at the same time that a dragon began to terrorize the countryside? I’d be lucky not to be burned as a witch. Although I have to admit, seeing the faces of the villagers when the flames of their pyre had no effect on me would almost make it worth the trouble.”

She pushed her face into the nape of his neck, nuzzling as her hand made slow circles on his stomach.

“Are you going to make me beg, Iden? Does my true nature intimidate you so? You don’t have to be afraid of me, we could do it the way that you’re no doubt accustomed to. It wouldn’t be theater for me to play the role of a young woman, enraptured by your strength and masculinity, admiring your physicality as you mount me. My desire for you is real, even if this body that I have conjured is not. It’s been so long since I felt the touch of a man...”

She planted a lingering kiss on his neck, Iden’s heart pounding in his ears. He would never admit it, but he was indeed afraid of her. He had seen what she truly was, thirty feet of scales and fire, possessed of magical powers far beyond his comprehension. And yet the form that she had chosen was so pleasing, so alluring, crafted for the purpose of enticing him just as a sword was forged to cut.

His resolve broke, and he reached down a hand to run his fingers through her auburn hair, stroking her warm cheek. Isabelle loosed a satisfied chuckle, her groping becoming less restrained, her slender fingers wandering across his broad chest. She tested the firmness of his muscles, then slid higher, his stubbly face scratching her palm as she returned the gesture.

“I knew that you’d come around,” she whispered, “there’s no need to hold anything back now.”

She snapped her fingers, and Iden was momentarily alarmed by a rush of flame, the silk tunic that she had crafted for him burning away like a sheet of paper to leave him exposed. Of course, his very clothes were a product of her magic. Did that mean that she could have undressed him any time that she wished?

Isabelle slid a wandering hand down to his stomach, savoring the feeling of his iron muscles tensing beneath her palm, her covetous eyes playing across his body. He felt her trace a more recent scar, a line of pink flesh that had knitted across his belly where a foe had tried to gut him. Years out in the sun had given him a dark tan that contrasted against her own pale white. He should have noticed that, no farmhand could have kept such perfect skin while working out in the sun, there wasn’t so much as a freckle on her.

“You’re so stout,” she muttered, making no attempt to conceal how much she was enjoying exploring him. “You’ve lived a life of violence, a life where brute strength has kept you in one piece, every bout leaving its mark on your skin.”

She leaned a little closer, planting a kiss on his chest, letting her soft lips linger.

“As hard as stone, what a specimen you make, Iden...”

He flinched as he felt the warmth of her tongue, Isabelle seeming to sample his skin, one of her hands hooking around a bicep that was almost the size of her head.

“Your taste, your scent,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on the last word, as if it was all too much for her. “How I’ve pined for the warmth of a man ... how I’ve longed to quench this thirst...”

She grew more aggressive, Iden bucking from the pile of gowns and curtains as she cupped his growing erection in her hand through the fabric of his tight pants.

“But let’s take our time,” she added, almost as though she was trying to persuade herself rather than him. “I want to savor this, I want to make the most of every second.”

Iden felt a familiar fire rising in his belly, and this time, it had nothing to do with her magic. His fear melted away, his uncertainty fading. She was only a woman, a dragon in a woman’s form perhaps, but he knew what to do with women.

He turned onto his side, dwarfing her slight frame, casting Isabelle into shadow as he put his back to the campfire. She peered up at him with an almost gleeful expression on her face, her anticipation palpable, wetting her lips as he cupped her face in his palm. Women liked his hands. They were large and rough, calloused by years of gripping leather hilts, and steel hafts. Her eyelids fluttered as he stroked her rosy cheek again, and then he brought her closer, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

She sighed through their locked lips, wasting no time on pleasantries as her tongue found his own, entwining in a passionate kiss. She tasted wonderful, it was almost like biting into a ripe fruit, her skillful flurries and strokes making his head spin. Isabelle was no stranger to a lover’s embrace, it was rare to meet a woman who could match pace with him, who he didn’t need to lead around like a dog on a leash. She was so greedy, rapacious, quickly abandoning any pretense of modesty or restraint.

Isabelle seemed to sag into him, pressing her lithe figure up against his torso, her fingernails digging into his chest as she teased him with her artful tongue. He could feel the softness of her breasts squashing up against him through the silken fabric of her blouse, one of her thighs rising to brush against his loins, and he let his free hand roam down to her shoulder.

Her skin was smoother and softer than even the lavish satin that they were lying upon, so warm in the cool air, and he couldn’t help but stroke her. Her blouse exposed her neck and shoulders, and so that was where he roamed, inching closer to her bust as he met her bawdy embrace.

“Don’t hold back,” she panted, breaking off their kiss for a moment to peer up at him with her emerald eyes. “You can be rough, there’s no chance of you hurting me. Tear off my clothes, if it pleases you.”

He slid a hand beneath the billowy fabric of her blouse, gripping it in his fist, the sound of the material ripping echoing through the cave as he tore it to ribbons. He took the two halves of her leather corset in his hands, straining to tear it open, the laces that secured it snapping. Isabelle giggled excitedly, shrugging her shoulders to help him along as he pulled her ruined top away, exposing more of her perfect skin. His hands slid down the curve of her back as he bundled her up in his arms, tugging her closer, Isabelle having to crane her neck to maintain their sordid kiss.

He rolled her over onto her back, Isabelle giggling as he threw her small frame around with ease, parting her thighs in invitation. Her pert breasts swayed with the motion, wobbling enticingly as they settled into their new position, Iden kneeling over her as his erection strained against the tight fabric of his pants.

“You’re so aggressive, Iden,” she chuckled. He was almost annoyed by how flippant she was, like the whole thing was a joke. “Do you treat all of the girls this way, or is it just me?”

He silenced her teasing with a kiss to her slender neck, pinching her skin between his teeth in a mock bite, feeling her spine rise off the bed as it arched towards him. She seemed to enjoy the rougher treatment, and so he continued, nibbling and kissing as he moved down towards her clavicle. He felt her fingers delve into his long hair, taking handfuls as his lips crept towards her bust.

Her flesh spilled between his fingers as he took one of her breasts in his hand, kneading it greedily, feeling the hardness of her erect nipple pressing into his palm. It was a perfect handful, his digits sinking up to the first joint in her fat, as soft and as malleable as freshly baked dough. She mewled contentedly as he squeezed, Iden delighting in the way that it yielded, only to spring back to its original shape when he relented.

Despite her lithe figure, her breasts were abundant, their heft giving them a teardrop shape that set his senses aflame. Her every subtle movement and tremor made them ripple like the calm surface of a lake that had been disturbed by a pebble, quivering as she rolled her hips reflexively. Isabelle clamped her thighs around him as he set upon the second, her grip surprisingly strong, the sensation of her shapely body writhing beneath his own encouraging him further.

He brought one of her hard nipples to his lips, sucking it into his mouth and playing his tongue across it, keeping up his mauling all the while. She had told him that he stood no chance of hurting her, and he believed it, he was shaping her bosom like it was wet clay. She had been flaunting her assets all day, putting them on display in her loose-fitting blouse. Now he finally had his hands on them, and he was taking full advantage, it was almost a form of retribution.

“You brute,” she giggled, “taking advantage of a defenseless woman...”

Iden didn’t want her laughing and cracking wise, he wanted her drenched in sweat, the only sounds leaving her lips the moans of carnal bliss. He decided to really put the moves on her, pinning her beneath his weight, pressing his erection between her legs as he gently chewed on her nipple. He could feel her warmth, her wetness, even through the barrier of his pants and her flowing gown. She was so ready for him, she was practically pulsing.

“Bite me a little harder,” she muttered. He did as she asked, pinching her nipple between his lips and teeth, lashing it with his tongue. She pushed into him again, her spine rising from the silken sheets in a beautiful arch, Iden sliding a hand beneath her so that he might trace the deep dimple that ran down her back. Her skin was so impossibly smooth, like glass, or varnished wood. Could any mortal woman achieve this kind of perfection, or was it all a result of her magic?

His hand slid past her tattered blouse, sneaking below her gown and taking a handful of her rump, Isabelle loosing a delighted yelp as he dug his fingers into her springy muscle. Her rear was so soft and full that it rivaled her bust, but beneath the layer of cushiony fat was the brawn that she had boasted of, taut and firm in the most alluring of ways. She flexed as he kneaded, her thighs tightening around his waist like she was turning a thumbscrew. It reminded him of the female mercenaries that he had been fortunate enough to woo, strong and fierce. They had known what they wanted, and they hadn’t been afraid to take it.

His lips left her nipple, wandering down her torso, pausing to plant a kiss by her navel. Her flat stomach was dimpled by two rows of subtle abdominal muscles, shifting beneath her skin as he passed them by. Even if he knew that it was just an illusion, her body was still that of a farm hand, toned and shaped by a lifetime of labor that had left her hard in all of the right places. His stubble seemed to tickle her, and she chuckled giddily again. Isabelle’s hands were above her head now, her fingers clawing at the sheets as he lifted her off the makeshift bed, supporting her weight with a single arm beneath her pillowy rump. Her burnished thighs brushed his cheeks, the backs of her knees resting across his shoulders, her feet dangling behind her back as he held her almost upside-down.

“You’re more generous than I had imagined,” she said, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Quite the gentleman indeed...”

“Ladies first,” he muttered, Isabelle chuckling lasciviously as he brought her closer. Her womanhood was just as idealized as the rest of her, her lips puffy and inviting, glistening flesh the color of a blushing cheek peeking out from between them. It was enough to set his mouth watering, and he watched as a solitary bead of her excitement escaped to roll down her cheek like a tear.

Iden rested his free hand on her belly as he dove in, parting her labia, and grazing her vulva with his tongue. He felt a tremor pass through her as he explored her folds and creases, like the petals of a rose coated in morning dew, her flavor driving him wild. She tasted just like a kiss, with a hint of copper, and not much else. There was the familiar musk of a woman, but also the flowery fragrance of perfumes and soaps, setting his head spinning. Was this what well-to-do women smelled like, or was this more of her magic? He even surprised himself with his enthusiasm, lapping at her slippery, fever-hot sex as she writhed in his grasp.

“Don’t stop,” she muttered, her eyes losing their focus as she lay back on the sheets. “Go a little slower though ... that’s right, with the flat of your tongue. Oh, Iden, you’re a natural.”

He mouthed and licked, the blend of his saliva and her syrupy juices making their contact wonderfully slippery, strands of it linking their lips when he pulled away. He planted sucking kisses on her inner thighs and on her smooth mound, watching her opening twitch at his every touch. She was so receptive, so sensitive, her muscled belly tensing beneath his palm.

She lurched as he found her clitoris, circling the bud of flesh with his tongue, pressing his lips around it and drawing it out from beneath its protective hood. He painted it slowly, doting on her, treating this part of her anatomy like it was made of glass in contrast to his usual roughness. He was pleased to hear a comely whine escape her lips, and she brought one of her hands to her mouth, biting down on her fist as he teased her with his slow and deliberate stroking. She was practically dripping now, her loins swollen and needy, he could feel the heat that she radiated on his lips.

He had to take a moment to collect himself, his heart was pounding in his chest, and his member was straining uncomfortably against the tight fabric of his leggings. He had been so reluctant, so wary of her, but now he could only ask himself why he had denied her advances for so long. Dragon or not, she was the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid eyes on. Her body was a playground of delicate flesh and sturdy muscle, her skin softer than satin, her scent and her taste bewitching him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, peering up at him as her green eyes reflected the glow of the campfire. “Not having second thoughts, I hope?”

He didn’t reply. Instead, he let her fall to the pile of sheets below, the meat of her thighs and bust shaking with the impact. Her surprised expression quickly morphed into one of anticipation as he took her wide hips in his calloused hands, positioning her as he knelt between her parted legs. He took a moment to slide a hand up her thigh, massaging it, watching his fingertips sink into its velvety surface like melting butter.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” Isabelle purred as he took in the curves of her prone figure from beneath his curtain of black hair. “I must say, Iden, I find you so very ... exciting when you’re in this state of mind. You’ve become so gruff and assertive, no wonder the small-town girls that you like to court fall head over heels for you.” Her expression turned sly, and he could have sworn that her green eyes took on a more fiery hue, if only for a second. “But I must warn you, I will not be so easy to satisfy. Hold nothing back, I want everything that you can give me, as hard and as vigorous as you can give it.”

“I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised,” he replied. Isabelle merely smirked at him, reaching up to run a hand across his broad chest, biting her lower lip as she felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.

“You won’t be needing those any longer,” she said, pointing at his leggings. There was a burst of flame as they disintegrated into ashes, leaving him nude, the magical fire no longer a surprise to him. His member was finally freed from its prison, Isabelle’s eyes wandering down to examine it, the way that her lips curled into a smile telling him that she approved of what she saw. Iden was appropriately endowed for his stature, his manhood thick and vascular, throbbing in the air as she reached out to brush it with her fingers.

He flinched, baring his teeth as she weighed it in her hand, her digits scarcely able to meet around his girth. This was another tool in his arsenal when it came to courtship, his partners were never disappointed once he got them into bed. Isabelle was one of few women who had probably seen bigger. For all he knew, a male dragon’s manhood might be as long as his leg.

She guided him closer, pressing his glans between her lips, the warmth and wetness sending a shiver through his body. How he had longed for this during his weeks on the road, sleeping on the cold earth in a tent, the frigid air creeping into his sleeping bag as he tried to conjure memories of past encounters.

Isabelle had given him her invitation, and just as she had requested, he intended to hold nothing back. He gripped her hips and pushed forward, her eyes widening as she felt his manhood splay her open, her fingers digging into the sheets to either side of her as the head of his cock broke through.

He was greeted by a tunnel of sodden, twitching flesh that closed around him like an angry fist, her tightness making him curse under his breath. She had a small frame, and her passage was suitably narrow, her muscles massaging him in waves from beyond the limits of her silken walls. The exquisite folds and bumps of her insides were slick with a sheen of her slippery excitement, without which he doubted that their coupling would have been possible at all. Gods, she was as tight as a virgin. She was gripping him so fervently, as though her wringing muscles were trying to drag him deeper.

He inched a little further, and rather than pull away from him as some women did during the first moments of their lovemaking, he felt her thighs tighten around his waist. She crossed her legs behind his back, pulling him into her, her eyes flashing with a kind of fierce desire.

Her spine arched again as he bottomed out inside her, Isabelle able to take him to the hilt, her loins conforming to his every vein and contour like a velvet glove. He could feel every contraction, every subtle movement of her hips, every flex of her muscles. She could feel each throb of blood that pulsed through his member in turn, his organ jumping and pulsing inside of her, her eyelids fluttering with every beat of his heart.

“The warmth of a man,” she mumbled, her eyes seeming to lose their focus as she stared drunkenly at the domed ceiling above them. “How I’ve missed this feeling of ... fullness...”

Iden could scarcely stop himself from moving, and he began to rock his hips into her, his pace slow and heavy. Some women just lay there and took it, hardly participating at all, but Isabelle was refreshingly lively. She pushed back against him, rising to meet his thrusts, driving him harder and deeper. Her abdominal muscles moved beautifully beneath her skin as she twisted and gyrated, thrusting as though she was trying to scratch a maddening itch deep inside her, her breasts wobbling with the motion. He let one his hands roam up from its place on her hips, tracing the hourglass curve of her waist, stopping just beneath her chest.

They both began to breathe harder, a sheen of fresh sweat making their skin glisten in the firelight, their shared pleasure mounting along with their tempo. The impact of their bodies slamming together was wonderful, she could take him all the way to the base, so perfectly suited to him. The sensation of his member parting her deepest reaches had an intoxicating quality, flesh like damp satin gliding up and down his length, always in motion as it squeezed and shifted around him. He could feel every imperfection, every fold and crease of her depths, his nerves sparking like a smith’s hammer hitting a hot iron. Her loins almost seemed to suck on him, drawing on his shaft like a hungry mouth when he tried to pull back, as if her very body couldn’t stand the thought of them being apart.

His hands slid against her damp skin, beads of her sudor catching the light, sparkling to give the impression that her writhing form had been dusted with tiny diamonds. His own sweat poured from him, making his mop of hair damp. It wasn’t just their coupling that was heating up, the campfire beside the makeshift bed seemed to sputter every time that he drove his manhood into her yielding walls, growing hotter as her ecstasy grew more intense. Iden was glad of the cool air now, it was the only thing stopping him from overheating.

“Harder,” she snarled, that fiery hue returning to her green eyes. Her thighs tightened around his waist, squeezing him almost uncomfortably, muscles as hard as iron tensing beneath her supple layer of fat. He did his best to oblige, snarling as he planted a hand against the sheets beside her head, the impact making her jump and giggle. He changed his angle so that he might reach even deeper, his fingers digging into her hip as he put all of his strength into his thrusts.

They were rutting like beasts now, fucking in earnest, all pretense of gentle lovemaking forgotten. There was nothing cautious or exploratory about it, they were both experienced lovers, and they knew what they wanted.

“Harder, you brute,” Isabelle hissed through gritted teeth. “Pull my hair.”

His fingers delved into her auburn locks, and he took a cruel handful, tugging at her scalp as he pressed her deep into the sheets. He felt her grip him more tightly, her loins narrowing around his buried member, his eyes widening and his mouth opening in a silent gasp. She was so strong, so vigorous, he would never have imagined that such a dainty girl would like it this way.

“You really can take it,” he panted, his disbelief making her giggle mischievously.

“Did you think me a liar?”

“No, but ... this is amazing,” he stammered. “You’re amazing.”

“I fear that we’re well beyond flattery,” she chuckled, reaching up a hand to caress his stubbly cheek. “Now stop playing nice, and treat me like you would one of your barmaids. I’m no Queen, I may have riches, but I hold no titles. I want to feel this ... really ‘feel’ it.”