Aiden Burningwing, Count of Tret, picks at the food on his plate. He ate slowly, shame suffocating the young dragon’s appetite. He flexed his small wings against the simple hemp ropes that bound them, a far cry from the resplendent silks in which his captors had seen fit to dress him. Leaning forward for his goblet, he can feel his tail tug on the bindings that keep him locked in his seat. It was a devilish device that threatened to rip his tail off should he make a motion as if to run. If an opportunity to run did come during dinner, the trail of blood would let their hounds menace him at least until he fell from blood loss. The taste of the sweet juice could hardly drive the thought from the cub’s head.

	Nevertheless, Aiden watched the hounds that had gathered around the only fire in this dim hall. The puppies, true animals even if he would rather talk to any of them then his lupine captors, run back and forth joyously while their parents chew on bones to sharpen their teeth. He makes eye contact with one of the smaller ones and, curious, the little puppy starts to trot over. Aidens excited little claws pull a small piece of meat from his plate and holds it low to draw the puppy in further. 

	A sudden, high-pitched, “ARF!” precedes the puppy sliding out from under the table and skidding at an awkward angle. Aiden shifts in his seat to see the smug smile spread over his captor’s lupine face before quickly changing when he notices the dragon’s stunned expression. The darkly handsome wolf simply says, “We don’t feed the dogs from the table. They need to learn their place, Aiden.”

	“Count Tret,” Aiden corrects the wolf under his breath for the fifteenth time today. It wasn’t an official title, but it was one that his grandfather had given to him to use. And his grandfather was the Duke Burningwing, brother to the king. He was far closer to the throne than some Marquis Landonburt out here in the borderlands. This jerk was supposed to be on their side, even. 

	A warm, scaly claw comes down on his shoulder to pull the young dragon from his fuming mind. Turning swiftly enough that he can feel the tug on his tail, he’s only disappointed at the sight of the dark avian beak sticking out from under a servant’s hood. Still, the way it gently rubbed his shoulder provided a comfort that he hadn’t felt in the days since his capture. He leans into it, ignoring the hunch in the servant’s back to focus ever so slightly on their weirdly enticing smell and the familiar feeling of scales touching his own. But just as quickly, it’s gone, the stranger hobbling around him to fill the cup of the Marquis.

	And again, the tall wolf greets those that approach him with violence. A swift, casual smack turns the bird’s head, enough that he and Aiden are looking directly at one another. The dragon is shocked to find the face staring back at him to be surprisingly youthful. It’s not the deformed mess he’d imagined seeing the hunchback, but a narrow, elegant face befitting his blue and white feathers. The jay, noticing the shock on Aiden’s face, quickly switches his expression in the exact opposite way the wolf had.

	“You serve the master of the house before his guests. Did no one teach you proper manners, boy?” he says without looking at either of them. A fuzzy canine hand, already covered in fat from the pile of rare meat stacked high on his plate, draws yet more food to his muzzle, which he eats with a loud smacking of his lips. “It seems I’m surrounded by fools today. Old or young, it makes no difference.”

	“And did no one teach you how to treat other nobles? The young Count Tret is far from dangerous enough to deserve a chair such as this, after all,” the avian says, drawing the eyes of all around him. He suddenly stands tall, pushing back the wolf’s chair. All around them, wolves stare in shock as he drops the leather hunchback from inside his cloak. Before any of them can react, the blue jay is already pulling a rapier from one of the guards always within ten feet of the dragon and setting it to point in the suddenly retreating Marquis’ direction.

	“Ah, L-Liam, I’d heard tell you were out and about. What brings the Marquis of the Featherlands to our fair Brother Woods?” the wolf asks, as he slowly backs away. One hand grips at the short cape that he’d always seemed to wear regardless of how warm he kept his hall, clearly nervous. The approaching guards, hearing the title and knowing that their leader is only a single thrust away from having his life ended, nevertheless draw their blades. Each take position, ready to strike out when the signal was given. “I’d have thought you were still out on a galavant with your… men in waiting?”

	“Stop right there, Tiernan,” the bird says, dropping his cloak to the ground behind him. Aiden is taken aback by the change in his demeanor. He stands proudly, the tunic that he wore draping down to emphasize his broad stance and the way he arched his back ever-so-slightly while he half-posed in triumph at his reveal. “I believe being struck for merely serving my equal a drink does entitle me to certain rights?

	“Such as?”

	“The right to a duel of my choosing, with a prize most fair,”the blue jay explains. “And I will, of course, be taking our Count of Tret if I win.” Aiden perks up, hearing that. He looks between the two, at once confused and delighted at the thought.

	“So, you sneak into my home, trick me into offending you, and then demand to steal someone from my court?” the wolf says, looking over the dragon’s handsome rescuer. “You know I have at least a dozen years experience on you?”

	“And sloppy fingers,” the avian counters, wiggling his blade at the larger wolf. “To go with the rest of your sloppy manner.”

	Hearing this, the wolf goes over to one of his loyal guards. He wipes his hands clean over the well-pressed tunic of the other wolf, who can only harden his face as his uniform is dirtied. When satisfied, the Marquis of the Brother Woods grabs his guard’s blade and pulls it out. He swiftly turns, flinging the rapier around as if to gut the bird on the spot. The avian hops back to stand behind the dragon’s chair. Aiden is surprised when he hears the latch that kept him trapped in place released.

	“He’s not yours yet, Liam. You haven’t even set the rules of the duel and you’re already running  scared,” the wolf mocks, his face a scowl. 

	“I hardly know why you think he’s yours at all,” the avian says as he bounces back and forth. Aiden pulls his tail free, turning around in his chair to get a better look at the pair. The avian still had his handsome smile peaking up around the base of his beak. His body was angled as if ready to strike, body moving elegantly, tunic showing off the light muscles pushing his feathery chest outward. “And the duel will be blade to blade, obviously. I’m not the sort to casually draw a sword if it can be avoided.”

	The wolf thrusts forward, testing the defenses with a quick motion. Already prepared, the avian parries it effortlessly. Still, it’s enough for the young dragon to realize exactly how close he was to the action. Aiden backs away and finds himself in the waiting arms of one of the guards. He grips hard on the cub’s shoulder, to keep him painfully in place while the battle happens only feet away. 

	“Am I not owed for my part in the war? Were our lands not promised reparations for the fields that were burnt? And yet, our king fills his coffers while my people starve,” the wolf says. He leaps to the side and lunges forward, and is again batted aside. “All he has to do is pay what we’re owed and the little drake is his again.”

	“Your table hardly seems to be suffering for it,” the avian says as his own riposte misses the mark on the more experienced lupine. The wolf sweeps in and finds the blade caught only barely by the avian’s own. Their blades clatter against one another as each man puts their weight behind it. The blue jay, feeling himself pushed back by the wolf, slips free to let the wolf stumble into his own chair.

	The wolf rights himself before he replies, “Can a ruler not feel for his people? Or must we all be like the dragons and simply forget those that have suffered for our safety?”

	The avian presses his own offense, deftly swirling his dexterous blade before swiping at the wolf from either side, the blows repelled hastily. Pushing forward, yet more noise rings out as their blades rattle and bounce off one another. Somehow, Liam is able to press forward in spite of the wolf’s superior size. And in response, the wolf rears back an arm in order to punch at the younger avian. Disengaging nearly knocks both down, but the bird manages to duck back unscathed and leave the wolf leaning into the table.

	“These things take time, Tiernan-”

	A sudden vicious swing catches the bird off-guard. He barely gets his guard up in time. “You don’t even live among your people, you birdbrain! You leave your brother to run your affairs while you play hero! Do you even know how many missives I’ve received from Connor about fixing the damn roads?” The powerful wolf presses on, swinging wide while Liam dives out of the way.  Still, his blade is quick and commanding, demanding the attentions of the avian to block as they come wild and furious around him. The bird redirects what he can, but sees himself spinning and ducking the angry assault. The bird leaps up on the table, seeming to want to dance over the blade while prodding downward at the vicious wolf. Unphased, the wolf’s aggression sees him taking up the slim cloak behind him to grab the avian’s blade before swinging upward at the bird’s head.

	The avian lets his body drop low to evade the deathly assault, and he rolls along the table to pull his blade free of the deadly wolf’s grasp. Baring his fangs, the wolf gives chase only to be stymied by the chairs along the table. The toppled wolf is only down for a second and, rather than strike at the raging beast, the avian leaps over him, grabbing the chandelier that hung over the table and swung over almost to the wall behind them. He’s quick to turn around and point his blade at the wolf whose only just finished righting himself. 

	“Connor is twice the leader I am. I begged him to take the Marches from me. He’s far too humble if he thinks you have any thing to teach him,” Liam says and steps nonchalntly forward, seemingly unaffected by flying through the air. “I did have to pass through your lands to get here, after all. Your people do have all my sympathy and the roads aren’t a bad place to start if you’re wondering why your reparations haven’t been delivered.”

	“Impudent brat!” the wolf counters rushing forward. He swings his blade wide and powerful, aiming for the neck of the bird. The avian, having obviously predicted this, ducks yet again. And to Aiden’s surprise he grabs at the cloak and fake-hunch still on the ground, pulling them from beneath the wolf’s paws. Caught off-balance already, the wolf topples to the side and lands with a noisy clatter as his blade slips from his paw. Reaching for it does little to stop the bird from placing the tip of his own against the lupine jugular.

	“Do you yield? Or is it your fondest wish to draw the ire of the kingdom by damaging the Count with your death?”

	Looking up, a mix of rage and embarrassment in his eyes, the wolf bitterly says, “I yield, oh Marquis of the Featherlands.” He lets himself rest against the ground on saying it, his breath heavy from the scant few minutes of exertion.

	Liam approaches the dragon who could hardly bring himself to move once the lupine guard had taken hold of his arm. Aiden eyes over his savior, getting a good look at the handsome, angular face of his savior. His handsome body drips ever so slightly with sweat, easily visible through the open chest of the tunic that showed off his lithely muscles form. The dragon sees himself almost backing away until the bird shouts at his captor, “The boy’s scared. Let him go that we might take our leave of this place.”

	And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, the cub is freed. It’s the avian that comes forward and with delicate grace cuts the ropes binding his wings. He tosses the blade back to the guard that he’d taken it from before giving him a mocking bow that sees Aiden smile a well-earned smile for the first time in a long while. He repeats the bow on his own way out, nervous but still flourishing with his wings in the way he’d been taught to since he could walk. Liam takes him by the shoulder and guides him through the twisting halls of the lupine fortress they’d all been hidden away in.

	The night sky is beautiful above them, speckled with stars he’d only seen through a grated window in an underground room. The fullness of it takes him aback, making his wings twitch with a joyous desire to see him rise and play among them. It was an excruciating joy, one that had spent whole nights being dampened by the fear that no one would come for him. The stirring inside him at the enormity of the sky doesn’t halt their forward motion toward the gate. Which Aiden supposed was fine, given that he’d only successfully taken to the air once before his capture. The little dragon hurries along, weary of the guards that still patrolled the parapets around them. Each had their eye on the group, though none even made ready to strike, leaving the bows at their side.

	Riding away, he finds himself seated beneath his avian savior. The rook and crow on either side of them as they pass down the road through the dense woods. His heart beat with anxiety and enthusiasm as they rode away from the fortress. The Marquis of the Featherlands leans over him and urges the horse to travel just a bit faster through the dark night. Scaly hands hold tight to the reins while Aiden’s own can only grip the horse’s sides.

	“You want to stick out your wings? I hear dragons like that,” Liam asks, as if to indulge the boy. And Aiden does, sticking them out far enough to nearly touch the riders on either side. His heart pumps harder while he looks at the night sky above him, blocked only by his saviors dark beak sticking into his view. The young dragon lets himself feel the warm bodies around him even as he imagines flying through the sky like his forebears had before him, embracing the birthright that the wolves had kept bound long enough that even now the strain of keeping his wings locked was noticeable. Still, he keeps his game going all the way to camp, even when the horses slow or bounce too hard for him to do more than be caught by his savior.

	“We’re here,” the crow croaks out, pointing to a handful of tents tended to by a handful of ravens and jackdaws. The encampment was small, barely a dozen men in all. They milled about a pair of small carts. It was obvious to even the sheltered dragon that they were prepared to leave at any moment.

	“Get some rest, gentlemen. We leave at dawn with a Count of Tret won in fair combat.”

	After a brief second of applause for their glorious leader, a raven interrupts to say, “And it’s going to be a hell of a ride. The wolves took him once, they’ll do it again.”

	“Which is why we’re not heading straight to the Capitol, like he’d expect. Half of us are going to Tret and the other half are going to spend a week with Connor. I trust you know your part, Johnny?”

	“Aye, we have the decoy ready. Do you really think it’s going to fool anyone?” the raven gestures into the back of the cart, revealing a wood frame covered in canvas. It was peculiar, a red-painted face poking out from some folds in the fabric. What might have been wings were wrapped around it, and a ridiculously thick tail was shaped to come out the side of the pile of canvas some men were now throwing on top of it.

	“I don’t look like that,” the little dragon says. It’s with a start that he realizes it’s the first words he’s said to the avians.

	“It doesn’t have to lad. All anyone is looking for is a red dragon. Speaking of which, how do you feel about being a green?” The blue jay asks, sliding over the side of the horse.

	“What? How?”

	“We’re going to cover you in moss, of course. Not to insult you, but it’ll be safer if no one knows who you are,” the blue jay says with his typical warmth. It wasn’t like how the other adults would talk to him, as if he were just a kid. No, there was something more there. As if to complete the thought, the avian grabs his sides. The touch spreads a subtle, almost vibrating heat along his sides that fills his excited mind with a strange urge to feel it yet again. Once the dragon is set on the ground, the avian continues, “And of course, we’ve got to get you out of those silks. They’re hardly something you’d find on a green.”

	“Oh…” Aiden looks around at the gathered crowd who’d begun dutifully setting up their tents. Even in the dark of the moonless sky, undressing in front of all these people chilled his insides. He nearly whispers, speaking almost solely to the blue jay, “Umm… thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know how I’d ever repay you, but… Is there a way I could change in private?”

	A small wave of laughter grips the men around him, and while Aiden’s trying to repress the heat he’s almost certain is his growing fiery breath Liam speaks up, “Of course. You’re bunking with me tonight. You can put on your disguise in the morning. Is my tent ready, Jack?”

	A jackdaw guides them to a narrow tent, barely tall enough for the small dragon to stand in. Still, a pair of cots had been set up for them inside, nearly touching every corner of it. “I had them set my tent up before I left. Bet them that if we didn’t return having thoroughly trounced the Marquis of the Brother Woods then I’d sleep outside. And if I won, they’d take my shifts on watch duty.”

	“You’re really smart. And brave and nice,” says the dragon, finally in the privacy of a tent with his rescuer. He rushes through the small space between them and, nearly crying, hugs the grown avian close. “And you’re handsome and great and a really great swordsman and thank you thankyou thankyouthankyou-”

	“Hey, calm down. Let’s get out of these clothes and we can get some rest for the night. You’ll feel so much better by morning, it’ll feel like you were never taken at all.”

	“Um, I-” Aiden starts, but to his surprise the blue jay is already taking off his leggings, boots apparently kicked off eariler. He watches the older male, entranced as he sits on his bed revealing more and more of his strong legs. His tunic is still low enough that in the dark he can barely make out where the legs begin underneath, but the bright white feathers and deep, dark scales below the knee contrast with the grey bedding to provide a perfect view of how the legs are shaped. Once pulled completely off, he leans back to rest, revealing a rare sight for the noble cub. Resting comfortably between them is a soft, pink cock sitting on a pair of testicles covered in downy white fur. The young dragon stares with a simmering excitement, rooted to the spot even as he pulls the tunic over his head to reveal an athletic body with obvious furrows in his feathers from the scars that decorate it. 

	“Your cot should be a few paces to your left. Try to get some rest,” Liam gestures blindly to the base of it when he says it. “We shall have more comfortable bedding available once we’re back in the Featherlands. A pillow of my father’s own discarded feathers, if you wish.”

	“Uh, my apologies. I’m just not used to someone undressing so casually. Even my servants-”

	“Ah, of course, your dragon’s eyes,! I’m sorry, Your Excellency. I hadn’t meant to offend,” Liam interrupts, back stiffening for just a second before he relaxes. “Though I suppose the damage is done.”

	“It’s alright. That must be what it’s like to have a life of such adventure. I hear stories about you in the Capitol, carried by bards to the courts.”

	“Well, maybe you should get undressed too, if you want an adventure. You can’t travel in such finery anyway and expect not to be followed.”

	The little dragon blushes at the idea of being naked in front of this stranger, but the sight of the playful warrior leaning back with his body so casually on display sends a thrill directly to his loins. He’s almost reckless in how he casts aside his royal prisoner’s garb to expose himself before his handsome savior. He stands barely aware of what his raging heart is demanding of him, displaying his body still in the process of changing from a slightly chubby child to the warrior he hoped to one day become. Indeed, small muscles had started form on his body, giving him an athletic shape everywhere but the thin layer of fat that still clung stubbornly to his stomach, thighs, tail, and behind. His small cock, only barely aware of it’s purpose, stuck straight out ahead of him for the thought of the unseeing Marquis somehow becoming aware of it.

	“Is it alright if… I sleep with you tonight?” he asks innocently, in spite of his breath catching in his throat at the thought.

	“The cots are quite small,” the bird asks, nodding his head with a devious expression, not unlike the one he’d had when Aiden had first seen him. “Do you mind if I hold you close?”

	Aiden watches as his legs flex themselves and spread out a little more. He wasn’t completely naive, having watched how his grandfather’s court cavorted among themselves these past few years. That was an offer of some sort. He takes a few steps forward, setting a claw on the scaly knee in the way the more forward men in the court would do to the ladies, “I’d very much enjoy it. I was sitting on your lap the whole ride here.”

	“Did that excite you?” Liam says, taking the dragon’s claw off his knee and into his own hand. That simple act is more fuel for the flame, one he can feel taking his breath away and burning away what little trepidation he had. The blue jay continues to pull the dragon in closer until he can feel the heat coming from the avian’s beak. He whispers, “Would you like to ride tonight?”

	The new intimacy heightens the red-scaled dragon’s twice-invisible blush, but he feels it in his ear-holes along with a lightheadedness that drives the words from his brain. He can only whisper back, “Yes.”

	A scaly black forearm wraps around the cubs waist to slide his body along the avian’s soft upper leg. Feathers brush up and tickle his sensitive member, a delightful, unexpected sensation that causes his back to arch. Ravenously, the blue jay dips forward to use his beak. It’s a soft, pleasurable nip with a gentle swipe of a long, thin tongue, not unlike a kiss. It lasts barely a second, but repeats as he travels up and down the sensitive jugular of the dragon. 

	A soft gasp permeates the near dead-silence of the tent and he can only hold himself steady, unsure of what to do with himself in this new situation. On his knee, he can feel the man’s penis come to life, the tip rubs against his knee and with a single glance down he’s reached the limits of his knowledge. They were going to mate and this tall, strapping near-stranger was going to guide him through new territory. Aiden’s hands reach forward to rub over the white underbelly of the avian and he’s almost started by how the muscles underneath shift as the man gives more ecstatic pecks while he’s explored. In response, the avian’s comforting, scaly claw slides down his arm to rub the sensitive spots just under his wing-joints. The other goes downward, pointed tips tracing along the side of his tail before he gently gropes the cub’s soft behind. It startles Aiden and he jumps further into Liam’s lustful embrace.

	“Tell me, Count of Tret, do you have your underbelly coloring yet? Or are you yet too young?”

	“A few,” Aiden offers. It was true that he had only the barest speckles of the colors that would mark his adulthood. Only a handful of the cream-colored scales had emerged.

	“Do you want me to guess where?”

	The question perplexed the dragon, but he was truly out of his depth. He nods nervously, and then embarrassed, says “Yes.” 

	When the avian falls back, he pulls Aiden forward. The little dragon finds his position shifing and rather than risk injuring his savior he brings his leg up to find himself straddling the blue jay’s narrow waist. Under his tail, the hardened penis of the bird pokes him with it’s warm tip. Liam’s hands place themselves on the dragon’s shoulders and his thumbs caress with a gentle force. Playfully, he asks, “These are still red, right?”

	“Yes,” the count says. 

	No sooner does he say it then do the hands start to rub downward. They slide sensually before coming to rest on his chest. He shivers and the penis under his tail jumps with a slight thrust from the bird. A claw pulls off, pointed tips pushing in just beneath his collar bone and the marquis asks, “What about here?”

	“No, not there,” he replies as he enjoys the silly safety of the game the avian had started. It slides down while the other gives a gentle grope near the center. The feeling of the hand draws a gentle laugh from Aiden’s lips and he says, “Not there either.”

	They slowly work their way down his young body poking every rib to earn a titter or a gasp as his scaly hands make their way ever southward. Reaching the chubby belly, the bird rubs gently, as if to sooth the growing need in the cub, “What color’s this, I wonder?”

	“It’s yellow-white,” the little dragon says as the bird molests the signs of the man he was going to become. The thought of being an adult, of doing this with this wondrous bird his whole life, of being mates, flutters through the dragon’s mind. 

	The thought intensifies as the bird speaks, “Oh, just like your grandfather’s. He must be so proud of the man you’re about to become.”

	Aiden nods and shuts his eyes tight. It was true. That was the version of the future he saw, his loyal knight and protector by his side. His savior always there to hold him close when he needed it. The thought clung in his head, filling it as he asks, “I’m going to be a duke just like him. And you can be the count then.”

	The claws poke around his belly before sliding yet further down. “All I’d ask is for a spot in your castle while I travel. And in your bed when I need to rest.” Before the young dragon can respond, the blue jay starts to push his hips back. A warm, wet trail slides along his tail and the bird has to reach between their bodies to guide that hard dick to his virginal pucker. He can feel the strange liquid, slightly too thick and unsteady to be pee start to build up on them. “Now, are you ready to make love?”

	That word sent a thrill through the little dragon’s mind. Enough that he breathes as deep as he had all night before saying, “Yes. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what he was thanking him for, addled as he was by the strange feelings coursing through his loins and heart.

	“We’ll take it slow to start. It’s going to hurt a little, but it will be the most amazing feeling by the end. You just have to tough it out, like a warrior.”

	“Alright. Umm… how?”

	In answer, he suddenly feels warm fingers wrap around his little member. It’s a soft, pleasant warmth that rolls up through him from the spot. Excitement boils up in him and he squirms around on top of his lovers hard dick only to be rewarded by an involuntary thrust against his hole. The avian underneath whispers, “Just remember to breathe and relax, Your Excellency. You have to tell me when to stop and go.”

	“You can call me Aiden. If you want,” the dragon says, before focusing on his breathing. Relaxing was harder than it sounded in the strange new situation, but holding his composure was something he was taught to do since birth.

	“Very well, Aiden. Now, I still can’t see, so tell me, what color is this?” he says and squeezes the young dragon’s hard-on. His hand moves at the wrist, a slow, subtle motion that heats Aiden’s draconic body up enough he’s worried he might start to breathe flame.

	“P-pink,” he mutters, but at the moment he does he feels a sudden sting from his whole. The little thrust was barely an inch in, but already it was an awkward feeling. He hisses in, sharp to his own ears, but keeps it together with a reminder of the bird’s warning. What little fluids the bird had produced couldn’t possibly ease the entrance.

	“Relax, Aiden. We have all night if we need it. We can sleep in the carts. Just let your body get used to it,” the blue jay says, his spare hand comforting the cub by rubbing his scaly thighs. He clambers up, coming up to peck and nibble yet more at his throat and counter the sting in his behind with the weight of pleasure. “We’ll take this little by little. Now what color is this?” The avian says before cupping the dragon’s small balls.

	“Red,” Aiden answers, grateful for the distraction.

	“Like roses,” Liam coos comforts to the dragon, pushing in and out ever so slightly while Aiden slowly adjusts to the strange feelings. It’s slow arduous work that still leaves him shivering with pleasure as the scaly hands squeeze at his flesh and the birds tongue slides out to taste it. It may be minutes or hours that pass as they slowly adjust to one another, the pleasure of the hungry bird’s explorations numbing Aiden to the flow of time. There’s only the burning pleasure and the drips of pain as their bodies become more and more intertwined. Aiden soon finds himself holding fast to the bird, arms and legs wrapping around his torso as slow humps drive the cock a little deeper each time. Whatever wetness the bird’s penis was producing slowly built up. It eased his tender thrusts enough that when Aiden starts to bounce on his own, about halfway down, he can feel true pleasure from his stretched hole.

	“That’s it, Aiden. Don’t go too hard. Take your time.”

	The bird falls back yet again, taking Aiden with him. It nearly pulls the cock out of his behind, but the weary dragon instead lets Liam fall and straddles his body yet again. The distracting pleasures had been removed, leaving him to the hotter pleasures that consumed his loins. Instinctively, he bounces his hips between the hand on his own penis and the one inside him, poking around intimately. He rocks his body over it, flexing around the strange thing and earning a deep sigh from the chatty bird.

	“Perfect. Just keep going like that.”

	The dragon bounces a few times experimentally, willing his insides to relax all the while. Satisfied, he leverages his hips as the cot starts to creek under their combined weight. Pushing himself up and down, feeling the rhythm from the bird occasionally letting out a joyful groan or rocking his own hips upward, he gives into the way passion wills him to move. And, as if in reward, he suddenly feels an unnerving surge of pleasure from somewhere inside him. It brings forth an involuntary moan, barely kept quiet by his own nerves. 

	“Are you okay?” the avian asks, hand suddenly gripping the dragon’s thigh.

	“It felt good,” Aiden says, repeating the motion as he does and ending his sentence with a less subtle moan. He’d heard tell of how lust could drive men to madness, and in this moment he wanted nothing more. He rocks himself over it to awkwardly seek out whatever had made that sensation happen. The gyrations provide their own lesser pleasure to reward him as he learns how to use his own body.

	“Keep going, love. Keep going,” the avian groans his own lust up to the dragon and pushes him down by the thigh. The dragon does, and finds as he bounces down that it hits the thing inside him almost perfectly. He grinds into it, body naturally bending backwards as he rocks his young form over the handsome avian. 

	The gentle humping of the bird, combined with the little stings still coming up from it, reminds the dragon that he still hadn’t taken the whole of the avian’s cock. He bounces slightly, willing himself to relax inside in spite of the sensations coursing through him. Deep breaths taken between his growing moans are the only thing stopping the dragon from giving in entirely to the strange feelings that were making their mark on this night.

	“That’s it. Breathe, sweetie. Let me guide you,” the blue jay says from where he lay. He takes his hand from the dragon’s little dick and places both on Aiden’s thighs. Pushing up and pulling down, the dragon gives into his motions and even finds the regularity of it pleasing. Even if he can’t stop wiggling his hips every time another wave of pleasure is pushed up through him, the way the avian manages to hit it on almost every thrust all but drives out any pain from his mind. It continues to build, a roaring fire from his groin to the nubs that would one day sprout into horns. 

	He hardly notices when the fullness of the cock is inside him save that the hips of the bird now meet his fleshy behind. The soft slaps mix with their paired, breathy moans while the blue jay’s legs bat around his thick draconic tail with every upward motion. He barely understands the words as he speaks them, but they’re nearly a shout in the darkness, “I… love you… I love… you…” It’s all he can think to say, the feeling inside of his savior bringing him such pleasure to big to be encapsulated by anything smaller.

	“Yeah. Fuck yeah. I know you love this,” Liam says, all composure lost to his lust as he drives his hips up into the cub’s shaking body. Every sentence is compounded by a rush of pleasure sent up from Aiden’s pelvis. The dragon reaches down, gripping the sides of the cot around the blue jay’s knees while his wings flex out far enough that he can feel them push open the flaps a mere foot from the edge of the cot, cool night air rushing into their small tent.. His back arches as he grunts up into the air, riding the feelings burning away all sense. When suddenly, he feels something in him light up. An intense, almost extreme pleasure as his body starts to vibrate through him against his will.	“That’s it, Your Excellency. Just keep going. I’ll get there too, soon enough.”

	The young dragon nods, unsure, feeling himself start to give as a rolling wave of blazing pleasure drives him from himself. The elongated sensation of the dragon’s dry orgasm is maddening, unbearable, and so much more than Aiden had ever imagined when he’d heard tales of how lust could drive one to insanity. Every push deep keeps him shaking atop the lusty bird. His voice carries into the night around them until it gives, breath hardly available to keep it going.

	And before he knows it, Liam is pressing his narrow hips into the dragon’s tensing, gripping behind and holding him still. A final few seconds where the bird reaches the height of his own pleasure, marked by his own lusty call before he feels all tension leave the man. It’s a relief, falling from the intense height down onto the avian’s soft, downy chest as he pulls him in close and finally lets their bodies come to rest. They lay there and let their breaths return feeling as they simply held each other. 

	It’s only in that moment that he becomes aware of his sudden tiredness or the ache that seems to permeate his whole being. His behind throbbed, both in where he was penetrated and from the force that was brought to bear against them. He was pretty sure his thighs were bruised from the grip of the avian. His dick ached almost like it had been slapped. And rather than tense up, all he could do was relax into it as every muscle in him was simply unwilling to move, to leave the warm, loving caress of his savior as his hand traced again under his wing joints. Tears well up, unbidden, as his body digests the aftermath of it’s rapture.

	“Not to interrupt, but we have to move. Your little bout of lovemaking has no doubt alerted everyone for miles around to our presence,” a rough voice calls out from behind the flaps, making the dragon tense up. A startling realization grips him, freed from the little space he’d shared with his lover. What might have been seen, if any of them could see at all.

	“Ah…” says Liam, a sly smile spreading over his face. “Passions of the moment, you understand.”

	“I would never dare to judge the actions of nobility, Milord. Your Excellency.”