In the skies above a volcanic caldera, a unique, almost one-of-a-kind Dragon guarded the entrance of a massive waterfall, leading to a maze of interconnected tunnels and volcanic tubes, the ancestral home of all Dragons. The beast flapped its wings with power and keen precision, it's impressive wingspan twisting to the buffeting winds that washed over the ocean beyond. Ahead, there was nothing but fog, but the creature watched the sea with keen interest, checking for lapping waves and the silhouette of ships. Whether it was searching for friend or foe was impossible to tell.

Muscles stretched and wings flexed as the Dragon turned, pivoting across the sky to look in the other direction. It's tail twisted, and at its tip, a man-made auto-piloting manoeuvrable tail-fin, fastened and symmetrically mimicking the opposite fin, twisted to assist its flight, for without it, it would not be able to fly properly. It's body was a dark silhouette of black scales from head to tow, and it's front and back legs were tucked in ever so slightly, bent to reduce it's drag in the air. Bright green eyes scannes and snapped from left and right, pupils mostly dilated with curiosity and inquisitiveness, but narrowed when they thought they spied something notable. To any viking who may wander too closer to the caldera, the sight might be familiar-- once upon a time it terrorised a viking village, but one man made the beast its friend, and the rest is history. It's species is a Night Fury, but others, and itself, prefer the name Toothless. It holds the memory of home.

The skies overhead were looking treacherous. Dark clouds were rolling in, nearing the caldera, and within their stormy cages, lightning struck and zapped, darting around the clouds. The sun was covered up by their approach and the sea became murky with the overcast weather. Toothless wouldn't have cared much for the weather on most days, but it troubled him; with thunder often came Dragons who had a natural affinity for lightning.

There he saw it; the outline of an impressively-sized Dragon, matching his own stature, though perhaps slightly smaller. It fluttered around in the thunder clouds and breathed streaks of lightning that scattered across the murky sky. It drew closer to him on instinct, not because it saw him, but because it was following the dark weather. Toothless instinctively knew its ilk; a Skrill, one that his human friend once spoke of at length. 'They're some of the most powerful Strike Class Dragons out there...well, apart from you, bud,' he would say. It has an impressive purple scaled wingspan and a tail just as long, its back riddled with spines and it's neck non-existent. It's head, wedged and wide, was home to metallic spikes and sharp teeth with bulging yellow eyes, and its body was stocky and uniform, a lilac underbelly leading to its tail. Spines crested the transition from underbelly to body scales, and those spines on it's head ran all the way to the tip of its tail, serving as it's main conduit for electrical energy, which is absorbed at length.

Its eyes inevitably set their sights on him, and Toothless engaged, regardless of friend or foe, for he had a duty to keep. His wings flapped as he shot through the sky, barelling and rolling to get a better angle, and the Skrill awaited him, noticing his ascent. Unlike Toothless, the Skrill was more of a wyvern, with no front arms to defend itself; instead, it leveraged distance with its feet, and attacked paws first. Toothless crashed into him, and the sailed through the sky in a bundle as they fought.

The Night Fury had the advantage, in most cases. His front claws helped him grip to the Skrill's body as they spun around in the air, and the Skrill couldn't do much but flap its wings and flail, its feet gripping around the Night Fury's back legs. Toothless snappedh is teeth and reared his head back, fire and plasma swelling in his mouth. The Skrill reacted instinctively, pulling its own head back and projecting a blast of lightning that, for a brief moment, disoriented the Night Fury. His wings went lax for only a moment or two as his head swung back, dazed, before he snapped back to attention and tried to reach out and bite. Their screeches of fury could be heard for miles.

During their fight, however, something began to change. Toothless noticed at first the build-up of electrical energy running along the Skrill's back, and planned to withdraw to bait it out in aerial combat, but there was something else. Their clawing and gnashing, the pressing of their bodies, amongst their scuffle, something that was stuck and hidden became unstuck. Toothless hadn't picked up on it in the moment until he started to feel the sliminess of it probing his stomach area, slipping down as Toothless's body worked to keep itself clung to the Skrill's form. The Skrill, too, seemed to notice what was happening, and its attacked slowed. The Night Fury saw an opportunity to bite, but the Skrill did too; where Toothless lunged its head forward, the Skrill did the same, swinging it to the side to bite down against the Night Fury's neck. Toothless was pinned, struggling against the teeth pressing into his scales, and at the same time, something speared into him, into a spot he never thought possible.

It was ribbed, exotic, marred with bumps and bubbles and bulges that made its entry difficult but slick, for natural lubricant helped as a turgid, Dragonoid shaft plunged deep into the tight, forbidden crevice of a Night Fury's slit. It plunged deep, filling up the entirety of him, until the wedged tip of it rubbed against his own on the inside, stirring a familiar sensation within him that was overshadowed by a discomforting sensation of fullness. Toothless let out a noise akin to a protest, his front paws pushing against the Skrill's body as their wings flapped in irregular rhythms, somehow managing to stay aloft. The Skrill bowed his legs and clamped its feet onto the Night Fury's hips, toes curling so the claws could dig in and find purchase, locking Toothless to him. The Dragon used his legs as leverage, pushing the Night Fury back and then pulling him in, the rhythmic movement of the Skrill's body causing their bodies to sway and swing in the air. Of all the things the Night Fury was expecting, to be fucked by another male mid-fight, in the air, was not one of them.

He thrashed with a distinctive sense of fight or flight, opting for the latter; if he could retreat, he could re-strategize. The Skrill, however, had him locked tight, and beneath the stormy sky they moved, their sex forbidden, unnatural, yet intensely intimate. The bite around the Night Fury's neck wasn't one of attack, but instead of claiming, of mating-- he was seizing the Night Fury for himself, and despite all of Toothless's efforts, he was being thoroughly claimed. Pre-cum and lubricant filled his insides as with thrust and pump applied more and made the noises of their sex audible and messy. Above The Hidden World, the Night Fury was taken, and it wouldn't be long before he was claimed entirely.

Suddenly, there was a flash. A streak of bright light shot through the sky, and with it came a thunderous crash that was felt throughout Toothless's entire body. Lightning struck to Skrill's back, eletricity cascading around his tail, up his spine, and across his limbs and wings. It travelled to the other Dragon in an instantly and the two of them convulsed and jolted in the air-- the Skrill was used to and craved such shocks, and as a result was able to keep flapping his wings to keep them aloft, but Toothless was not. His entire body became rigid as his muscles clenched, and despite the tension, the Skrill continued to thrust, encouraged by how suddenly tight the Night Fury's male slit had become. The Skrill worked tirelessly to flap as it thrust, making sounds from around the black Dragon's neck as their movements quickened, nostrils flaring. Somewhere inside, the electric jolts made something snap in the Night Fury's body. A flood of exquisite, possible unwanted rapture flushed through him as liquid seeped and oozed around the Skrill's pistoning length, lubricating its thrusts further and spreading a warmth around its cock that only made it want to thrust harder and faster. HOwever, it didn't have much longer either.

With a final low growl and thrust as the bolt of lightning fades and Toothless finally starts to feel as though he can move, the Skrill's eyelids fluttered and closed as its cock throbbed and bounced up and down inside that tight slight, rhythmically pulsing from base to tip. It's own seed flooded and mixed with Toothless's own and readily trickled, oozing from out of the slit and down the Night Fury's underbelly to the base of his tail. It dripped straight from his body and to the crashing waves below as he made a noise, one of a mixed melancholy and frustration. He struggled again, body wriggling around the other Dragon's rigid squeezing, and the Skrill seemed to care not for the Night Fury's movements, nor his complaints. For a moment the Skrill's wings slowed adn they dropped in altitude slightly, before, with a sudden withdrawal, the Skrill launched itself backward, relinquishing the grip of his teeth and paws in one fell swoop.

For a moment, Toothless merely fell, soaring ever closer to the water, before he suddenly spread his wings and took flight, turning around in the air and making some distance. By the time he looked over to the Skrill's location, the Dragon had gone-- perhaps it sensed his fury and wanted to flee, or maybe it was simply 'done' with what it wanted to do, but Skrill were known for bolting through the air, riding the lightning across the clouds...this one was likely no exception. Toothless hovered in the air and stared up at the clouds above as it started to rain, water washign over his scales, dripping down towards his slit, where it muddily mixed with the tiny oozing stream of cum dripping from his entrance.

The Night Fury begrudgingly let his prey escape and turned, sailing his way back to the caldera and down into the pits below. There, he found a secluded spot up near the entrance, and he spent the better part of a few minutes licking and cleaning himself out, grimacing at the taste-- it was either that, or face the wrath of his mate when he returned to their lair. If she smelt the scent of another male on him, especially down there, he wouldn't hear the end of it for months.