Night Fury Resurgence


SUMMARY:
For toothless x male skrill, the skrill invites toothless for a orgy with other skrill and other male night furies, do again the lightning hitting their bodies, flying sex and ass-to-ass position and this time all the dragons are pregnant, with hiccup in the end seeing the recovered night fury population   :)


STORY...
"Storm’s getting worse." Astrid moved beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "If they’re coming tonight, we’re sitting ducks up here." She adjusted the axe strapped to her back. Hiccup finally looked at her, a frown creasing his brow. "They’ll come. Toothless knows it." 

The Night Fury huffed, smoke curling from his nostrils. He tilted his head, ears twitching. Then, without warning, his whole body stiffened. A low growl built in his throat. Hiccup’s hand flew to his sword. "What is it, bud?" The dragon’s eyes locked onto a distant speck in the gloom. Astrid drew her axe. "Visitors?" she breathed. 

The speck grew, resolving into three dark shapes cutting through the clouds. Lightning flashed, briefly outlining jagged wings and sleek, scaled bodies. They moved fast, too fast. Toothless snarled, flattening his ears. The lead dragon banked sharply, its spines glowing with static. Hiccup stepped forward. "Skrill," he whispered. The creatures circled once overhead before diving toward the cliff.

Toothless didn't wait for command. He lowered his head, a deep, resonant rumble vibrating his chest – a primal challenge. Hiccup felt the tremor through the ground. He saw the way Toothless's pupils narrowed, fixed on the circling Skrill. Recognition flashed in the Night Fury's eyes, ancient and fierce. Astrid tensed beside him. "Hiccup, what's he doing?"

Hiccup's hand dropped from his sword hilt. He understood the rigid posture, the focused intensity radiating from Toothless like heat. This wasn't battle. This was ritual. "Hold," he breathed to Astrid. With deliberate calm, Hiccup unbuckled the saddle strap. He met Toothless's gaze, a silent question. The dragon gave a single, sharp nod. "Go," Hiccup murmured, stepping back. "Show them."

Toothless exploded upwards, wings snapping open with a crack like thunder. He shot past the Skrill, forcing it to bank hard. The other Night Furies peeled away, forming a wide, predatory circle high above the cliff. Toothless climbed into the center, his jet-black scales gleaming wetly. He hovered, wings beating powerful strokes against the gale, and let loose a roar that shook the rocks beneath Hiccup’s feet – a roar not of anger, but of dominance, echoing the Skrill's earlier cry. Below, Hiccup watched, rain stinging his eyes, as the Skrill tilted its head, appraising.

The Skrill leader peeled off its circling pattern, its crackling spines flaring brighter as it acknowledged Toothless's ascent. The other Skrills fell into flanking positions, their movements precise and coordinated. Instead of diving towards the cliff, the group banked sharply north, skimming low over the churning water, leading Toothless away from the human watchers.

They flew towards a hidden cove Hiccup knew well – a crescent of black sand nestled beneath sheer basalt cliffs, accessible only from the air or treacherous sea tunnels. Below, the waves boomed against the cavernous openings hidden at the cove's edges. The Skrill landed first, folding its crackling wings with surprising grace. The female Skrills touched down on the wet sand, forming a loose semicircle facing Toothless as he landed, his scales gleaming like obsidian in the rain. The air hummed with unspoken tension, thick with ozone and the scent of salt and wet dragon-hide.

The Skrill took a single step forward, its head held high, its electric-blue eyes fixed on Toothless. It didn't growl. Instead, it emitted a low, complex series of clicks and rumbles, a sound like stones grinding deep within a mountain. Toothless stood his ground, but his posture shifted subtly – the aggressive challenge eased into wary attention. He tilted his head, listening intently, his own chest resonating with a low, answering vibration. The females watched, utterly still, their collective gaze heavy upon the lone Alpha. The Skrill’s message hung in the storm-lashed air, a summons wrapped in ancient dragon code.


One by one, the dragons broke their rigid formation. They moved with a quiet, predatory grace, circling Toothless not as attackers, but as assessors. The first, a sleek female with scales the color of tarnished silver, approached his flank. She extended her neck, nostrils flaring as she inhaled deeply near the base of his wing joint, where the scent of old burns and healed scars mingled with rain. Her breath was warm against his hide. Another Fury, larger and bearing faint, pale stripes across his shoulders, stepped forward to examine Toothless's powerful hind legs, his gaze sharp as he noted the subtle asymmetry caused by Hiccup’s ingenious tail fin.
One of the larger Skrills broke from the semicircle, approaching from the other side. Its muzzle nudged Toothless's extended wing membrane, testing its tautness, its resilience to the driving rain. Another Fury, smaller but with intense, intelligent eyes, ducked its head to examine Toothless's powerful hind legs, its gaze lingering on the intricate mechanism of his prosthetic tail fin. There was no aggression, only intense, focused scrutiny.

The smaller dragon with the intelligent eyes moved to Toothless's forepaws. Its own claw, surprisingly delicate, tapped against Toothless's larger ones, testing their sharpness and the strength of the grip on the wet sand. It nudged at the thick scales guarding Toothless's neck, a low, thoughtful rumble escaping its throat. Toothless remained statue-still, allowing the examination, though a faint tremor of tension ran through his frame. The Skrill, completing its circle, paused directly in front of him. It lowered its head further, its glowing eyes level with Toothless's. A low command-click sounded. Toothless, understanding, slowly opened his jaws, letting the Skrill peer inside, examining teeth and palate, even flicking its own forked tongue briefly against Toothless's in a gesture that was both alien and deeply significant.

A third dragon, smaller and quicker, darted in front of Toothless. Its head snaked forward, surprisingly close, its forked tongue flicking out to briefly taste the air near Toothless’s muzzle. Toothless held perfectly still, only a slight narrowing of his pupils betraying his tension. The Skrill remained the silent overseer, its crackling spines occasionally illuminating the scene with stark, blue-white light, casting long, dancing shadows across the wet black sand. The smaller Fury then nudged Toothless’s forepaw, prompting him to lift it. It scrutinized the massive claws, worn smooth from years of flight and combat, then gave a soft, inquisitive chuff, its gaze traveling up the thick muscles of Toothless’s neck, searching for something unseen.


The inspection was intense, intimate, and utterly devoid of aggression. It felt primal, like wolves evaluating a pack leader. Toothless endured it, his eyes occasionally flicking towards the hidden sea tunnels where the boom of waves echoed like distant drums. He understood. This wasn't about dominance; it was about suitability. They were measuring him, piece by piece, against some deep, instinctual standard. For what, exactly?
They were thorough, impersonal, circling him like hunters appraising prized game. One prodded his hind leg with a clawed foot, another craned its neck to inspect his teeth and tongue with cold, unblinking eyes. Toothless held rigidly still, only the faintest tremor in his muscles betraying his tension.

A low, resonant growl rumbled from the Skrill's chest, a clear signal. In a blur of obsidian scales and crackling energy, it lunged. Toothless met the charge head-on, not with lethal intent, but with controlled force. They collided mid-air, a tangle of limbs and snapping jaws designed to test reflexes and raw power rather than kill. Toothless twisted, avoiding a crackling bite aimed at his neck, retaliating with a swift, powerful swipe of his tail that the Skrill deflected with a wing-joint. They landed heavily on the wet sand, circling again, eyes locked, muscles coiled.

The Skrill feinted left, then drove forward with astonishing speed, using its smaller size to slip under Toothless's guard. Its jaws clamped, not on flesh, but firmly onto the thick hide covering Toothless’s shoulder, holding him fast. Toothless roared, not in pain, but in challenge, his powerful body straining against the pin. He twisted violently, planting a hind foot against the Skrill's chest and shoving hard. The Skrill released its grip, stumbling back a step, its electric spines flaring brighter in surprise and acknowledgment.

The other Skrills remained statuesque, their eyes wide, absorbing every detail. They saw the sheer force Toothless exerted, the unwavering grip that held the lightning-powered Skrill in place despite its thrashing. A ripple went through their ranks, a subtle shift in posture – less observers, more potential challengers assessing an Alpha's  prowess.

Before Toothless could fully regain his stance, the Skrill lunged again, this time aiming lower. With brutal efficiency, it slammed a heavy, scaled forearm across the back of Toothless's neck, driving his head down towards the wet sand. The impact forced a grunt from the Night Fury. The Skrill pressed its advantage, leaning its full weight onto Toothless's spine, its claws digging deep furrows in the beach. Its muzzle hovered inches from Toothless's exposed neck, a low, sustained rumble vibrating through both their bodies – a clear display of dominance, testing Toothless's resolve to yield.

Toothless didn't yield. His muscles bunched like coiled springs beneath his rain-slicked scales. He felt the Skrill's hot breath on his neck, the immense pressure threatening to buckle his legs. A low growl built in his own chest, not of submission, but of furious refusal. He braced his powerful forelimbs, digging his claws deep into the yielding black sand. With a surge of raw strength that rippled through his entire frame, he began to push upwards, forcing the Skrill's crushing weight away inch by straining inch. Sand sprayed from his claws as he fought for leverage, his roar rising above the boom of the waves.

Suddenly, the Skrill released the pressure and sprang back. It didn't retreat, but stood tall, its electric-blue eyes locked onto Toothless, no longer challenging, but appraising. A new series of clicks and rumbles, deeper and slower than before, emanated from its chest. The watching Night Furies shifted, their rigid postures easing.

Finally, the Skrill ceased its struggle. It went still beneath Toothless, a low, resonant hum replacing its frantic movements. It wasn't submission, but a clear signal of acknowledgment. Toothless held the position for a long, tense heartbeat, the rain plastering their scales, the boom of waves echoing from the caverns. Then, slowly, deliberately, he released his grip and stepped back, his chest heaving, eyes never leaving the Skrill. The Skrill rose, shook itself, sending droplets flying, and met Toothless’s gaze. Its next series of clicks was lower, slower, lacking the challenge of before. It turned its head slightly, nudging the smaller, intelligent Night Fury forward towards Toothless. The message was clear: the trial of strength was over. The real purpose of their arrival could now begin.

As the call faded, the largest Skrill stepped forward. She moved with fluid grace, her scales gleaming like polished jet even in the storm's gloom. She didn't challenge or test. Instead, she circled Toothless slowly, deliberately, her movements sinuous and unhurried. She paused directly before him, her head held high, exposing the powerful line of her throat and the smooth expanse of her chest. Her nostrils flared, taking in his scent deeply, and a low, rhythmic purr began to vibrate within her, a sound rich and warm, utterly different from the Skrill's crackling energy. Her eyes, large and dark, held his gaze steadily, unblinking. She lowered her head slightly, not submissively, but offering herself to his inspection, her body held taut with anticipation.

The smaller dragon followed, her approach quicker, more direct. She didn't circle; she darted in close, brushing her flank boldly against Toothless's shoulder. Her purr was higher, more insistent, almost demanding. She nudged his muzzle with hers, a brief, intimate touch, then pulled back just enough to arch her neck proudly, showing off the sleekness of her form. Her tail lashed once, a whip-crack of contained energy in the rain-soaked air. She held his gaze, her eyes bright and challenging in a different way – an invitation to pursuit, a spark waiting to ignite. Both females stood before him now, radiating heat and readiness, their scents mingling with the ozone and salt – musk, spice, and primal promise.

The Skrill watched, its electric gaze flicking between Toothless and the females. It gave a low, sharp grunt. The command was clear: *Choose*. Toothless remained utterly still, his eyes shifting from one sleek shape to the other. The larger female held her proud stance, radiating a calm, deep strength. The smaller one shifted impatiently, her purr rising to a soft, vibrating keen. The tension wasn't just about selection; it was the weight of the Alpha mantle settling, the future of a bloodline hanging in the storm. He felt the collective gaze of the Furies, the ancient ritual unfolding on the wet sand.

Toothless remained still, his gaze shifting between them. He inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. The tension wasn't aggression now, but something thicker, more ancient. The Skrill watched from a respectful distance, its crackling spines subdued to a low hum. The other  stood like silent sentinels, their collective focus a palpable weight. Toothless tilted his head, a low, thoughtful rumble vibrating in his chest. He took a deliberate step towards the larger female, his movements slow, deliberate, assessing. He extended his neck, mirroring her earlier posture, nostrils flaring near her shoulder. The purr intensified, resonating through the wet sand beneath them.

He didn't linger. Turning, he approached the smaller one. She didn't yield an inch, meeting his scrutiny with unwavering intensity. He sniffed along her neck, the action unhurried, thorough. Her purr shifted, becoming a low, anticipatory thrum. He paused, his muzzle hovering near hers. For a moment, the storm seemed to hold its breath. Then, he nudged her gently, a brief acknowledgment. He stepped back, lifting his head to survey both females, then the Skrill and the watching Furies. His posture radiated Alpha certainty. He wasn't choosing yet; he was asserting his right to choose.


Toothless felt the shift deep in his bones. The Skrill’s challenge had been one of dominance, answered with strength. This was different. It coiled in his belly, ancient and undeniable. His gaze locked onto the smaller one, her vibrant energy a stark counterpoint to the larger female’s regal stillness. A low, resonant growl built in his chest, vibrating the wet sand beneath his claws. It wasn't aggression, but possession, a declaration. He took a single, deliberate step towards her, his powerful frame radiating focused intent.

He moved with the swift, fluid grace of a predator claiming its prize. In one smooth motion, he closed the distance. Powerful forelimbs wrapped around her sleek torso, pulling her firmly against him. She offered no resistance, only a sharp, trilling cry of anticipation. His jaws closed gently, yet firmly, on the nape of her neck – the instinctive hold. Her body arched instinctively beneath him, pressing back into his weight, meeting his strength with yielding heat. The rain slicked their scales as he settled his weight, a low, possessive rumble vibrating through her.
The rhythm was primal, fierce, yet undeniably purposeful. Each powerful thrust drove her claws deeper into the yielding black sand, spraying arcs of wet grit. Her answering cries were sharp, rhythmic counterpoints to the booming waves of distress, a visceral, driving pulse. Muscles bunched and flexed beneath his obsidian hide, every movement a testament to raw power and focused intent.

The larger female watched, still and regal, her dark eyes absorbing every detail. Her low purr continued, a steady counterpoint to the frantic sounds beside her. She shifted her weight subtly, a ripple moving through her powerful frame, her gaze never wavering from the pair locked in the ancient dance. The Skrill stood sentinel nearby, its electric spines faintly crackling. Its head tilted slightly, observing the display of vitality and intent, a low hum of approval rumbling in its chest. The other Night Furies remained motionless, their collective attention a heavy, focused pressure in the storm-lashed cove.

The intensity peaked. The smaller dragon’s gasps became one long, shuddering cry as her body went rigid, claws digging trenches in the sand. Toothless pressed down, his own movements growing deeper, more forceful, a final, resonant growl tearing from his throat. He held her pinned, shuddering, as the wave passed through them both. For a moment, they remained locked together, panting, the rain washing over their heaving flanks, steam rising where their hot bodies met the cold air.


He held the dominant position, muscles straining with each powerful surge. The smaller Skrill’s cries grew sharper, more urgent, echoing off the basalt cliffs. Her body tensed, then shuddered violently beneath him, a cascade of tremors rolling through her frame. Toothless felt it, his own rhythm faltering for a fraction of a second before surging with renewed, almost frantic intensity. His roar, when it came, was raw and triumphant, echoing across the cove, momentarily louder than the crashing waves. He held her pinned, breathing heavily, the scent of musk and salt thick in the air.

Each powerful thrust drove her forequarters down into the yielding black sand, her claws digging furrows as she braced. Her cries rose. Her scent flooded his senses – musk, salt, and lightning – intoxicating. He buried his muzzle against her neck, inhaling deeply, his growl intensifying. The smaller Fury beneath him writhed, not in struggle, but in perfect, instinctive harmony. Her tail lashed, coiling briefly around his powerful haunch before releasing. She pushed back against him with equal fervor, meeting each powerful drive. Sand sprayed around their locked forms, the wet ground churning beneath the force of their union. The other Night Furies watched, utterly still, their collective gaze heavy and unblinking. Only the Skrill remained aloof, its electric spines flickering.

The intensity peaked, a crescendo of movement and sound. He shuddered, a final, deep thrust pinning her flat for a breathless moment. A guttural roar tore from his throat, raw and triumphant, echoing against the basalt cliffs. She went utterly still beneath him, releasing a single, high-pitched keen that cut through the wind. Then, the tension snapped. He released his hold on her neck, pushing himself off her slick back with a heavy grunt.

Wings snapped open with a wet crack. He crouched, muscles coiling like springs beneath obsidian scales, then launched skyward with explosive power. She clung to him, claws finding purchase on his shoulders, her own wings instinctively tucking tight against the sudden surge. They tore through the storm-lashed air, rising above the cove, the wind shrieking around them. Below, the Skrill watched, its electric spines flickering in silent approval. The larger female tilted her head, her dark eyes tracking their ascent, a low hum resonating in her chest.

Higher they climbed, above the churning sea and the jagged teeth of the cliffs, into the turbulent embrace of the storm clouds. Lightning fractured the gloom, momentarily illuminating them: a single, dark shape against the void, locked together in primal flight. Toothless adjusted his grip, aligning perfectly. Her answering cry was sharp, urgent, swallowed by the wind. Then, with powerful thrusts of his hindquarters, he claimed her. It was a fierce, rhythmic union, instinct and raw need driving them onward through the tempest, each powerful wingbeat propelling them deeper into the storm's heart. Rain lashed their entwined forms, irrelevant against the fire burning between them.

The smaller Fury folded her wings tight against her body, trusting his grip utterly. Her lithe form was no burden; her compact size allowed him to climb faster, maneuver sharper. They ascended rapidly, the cove shrinking below them, the watching dragons mere dark smudges against the black sand. The wind screamed past, carrying away the scent of ozone and salt, replaced by the pure, biting cold of altitude and the intoxicating musk of her scales pressed against his chest.

High above the storm-tossed sea, where the air thinned and the clouds shredded around them, Toothless leveled off. He released his hold on her neck. She understood instantly, unfurling her wings with a snap. Now they flew side-by-side, mirroring each other's movements with uncanny synchronicity. This was the dance, the ancient ritual written in blood and wind. He banked hard left, she matched him instantly. He dove steeply towards the boiling clouds, she followed without hesitation, her smaller frame able to cut tighter turns, matching his every demanding twist and surge. Her speed was exhilarating, a perfect complement to his power.

The mating flight became a breathtaking display of raw aerial prowess and instinctive harmony. They plummeted through cloud layers, pulled up sharply inches from the churning waves, then shot skyward again in a dizzying spiral. Toothless pushed harder, testing her limits, and she met each challenge – a flick of her tail fin correcting a roll, a subtle wing adjustment matching his steep climb. Her agility fueled his own performance, allowing him to fly faster, tighter, more precisely than he ever could alone. Below, the Skrill watched, its electric spines pulsing faintly with approval. The ritual demanded perfection, and together, they were achieving it.

The smaller Skrill tucked her wings instinctively, surrendering to his grip. The larger female watched from below, a low, approving thrum in her chest, while the male Skrill observed from the cliff edge, its spines crackling faintly. Higher they climbed, above the cove, above the storm's fury, until the wind tore at them and the world below shrank. He held her fast, his grip unyielding, his focus absolute. This was dominance, possession – the primal right asserted.

At the peak of their ascent, he released his hold on her neck. Instinct took over. She arched violently, twisting to present herself fully. He adjusted, powerful hind claws finding purchase on her flanks. Wings flared wide to catch the turbulent air, holding them suspended for one breathtaking moment against the churning gray sky. There was no tenderness, only the raw, driving imperative of the species. He drove forward, a powerful thrust that forced a sharp, keening cry from her, echoing briefly over the wind before being torn away. He held her there, locked in the sky, the storm winds buffeting them as he fulfilled the ancient ritual, his body rigid with exertion and the fierce, unyielding pulse of procreation.

Below, the Skrill gave a sharp, resonant bark. The other dragons stirred, their gazes fixed on the mating pair silhouetted against the clouds. The larger female lowered her head, a low purr resonating. The Skrill's electric eyes tracked the descent as Toothless, his task completed, released his grip. The smaller one peeled away, spiraling down towards the beach with a fluid grace that belied the intensity of the encounter, her wings catching the air currents as she descended towards the black sand. Toothless circled once, a dark sovereign against the storm, before folding his wings and diving after her, the wind screaming past his scales. The challenge was met; the claim was made.

Breaking through the cloud layer, they entered a world of blinding sunlight and howling wind. Toothless levelled out, wings beating powerful strokes to hold them steady in the thin air. He adjusted his grip, his tail fin stabilizing their flight. Below him, she remained utterly receptive, her head held low, neck exposed in submission. This was the ancient way, the sky-dance. He positioned himself precisely, his body instinctively finding the angle. With a powerful thrust of his hips, he drove himself into her, locking them together mid-air. Her cry echoed across the vast emptiness, swallowed by the wind.

He flew hard. Wings pumping, he drove them through the thin air, maintaining the demanding angle. Her body moved rhythmically with his powerful strokes, her cries turning into sharp, rhythmic gasps that matched the tempo of his flight. This was no tender joining; it was fierce, functional dominance. He pushed higher, faster, the wind screaming past them. His focus was absolute: claim her, seed her, secure the future of his line. Her smaller frame allowed him greater speed, more agile control as he maneuvered them through the currents, every powerful wingbeat driving his purpose deep into her receptive core.

Breaking through the cloud layer into the moonlit silence above, Toothless leveled off. Below, the storm churned like a dark cauldron. Here, the air was cold and still. He released the pressure on her neck. Instantly, she twisted in his grip, agile and eager. Her smaller frame was an advantage, allowing him to maneuver her with swift, precise control. With a powerful twist of his body, he rolled them, pinning her beneath him against the dense cloud bank as if it were solid earth. Her wings instinctively flared wide for balance, but she remained submissive, her gaze locked on his, dark eyes wide and expectant. Her size meant he could position her instantly, perfectly, for his purpose. There was no courtship dance, no hesitation. This was pure function.

He adjusted his grip, powerful thighs clamping around her midsection, anchoring them together in the sky. Her smaller form yielded completely to his larger bulk and strength. A low, guttural growl vibrated from his chest as he positioned himself. She responded with a high-pitched keen, arching her back, pressing upwards, an open invitation. With a single, powerful thrust, he claimed her. Her cry was sharp, swallowed by the vast emptiness above the storm. He moved with relentless efficiency, each movement designed for maximum penetration, for speed. Her compact size allowed him deeper access, faster rhythm, his powerful hips pistoning against her yielding form. She was a vessel, perfectly sized to receive his seed swiftly and efficiently. Her wings beat erratically, mirroring the frantic tempo he set.

His focus was absolute, primal. He saw only the objective: dominance, possession, completion. The moonlight glinted coldly on his scales as he drove into her, again and again, the wet slap of scales against scales a stark counterpoint to the silence of the high altitude. He ignored her keening cries, focused solely on his own release, on planting his lineage deep within her womb as quickly as possible. Her claws scrabbled weakly against his flank, not in protest, but in the involuntary spasm of her own building tension, utterly subordinate to his purpose. Her body convulsed around him, a tight, involuntary clench that spurred him on, a mere biological reaction to his overwhelming force. He didn't pause; he used it, his thrusts becoming even more forceful, his rumble deepening into a possessive snarl.

Sensation coiled tight at his core, a building pressure demanding release. With a final, brutal surge, he buried himself to the hilt, his body locking rigid against hers. A deep, shuddering roar tore from his throat, echoing across the moonlit cloudscape as his seed pulsed deep into her receptive body. He held the position, grinding against her, ensuring every drop was delivered deep into her womb.
Toothless landed heavily on the wet black sand, the impact sending a spray of grit into the air. He turned, his movements deliberate and powerful. The smaller Night Fury landed beside him, her posture subdued, wings held slightly slack. With a low growl that brooked no challenge, Toothless nudged her flank firmly, guiding her down until she lay prone on the sand. The watching dragons – the Skrill and the other females – were utterly still, their eyes fixed on the scene. Toothless stepped over her, his shadow falling across her belly. He lowered his head, inhaling deeply near her flank, then lifted one powerful forepaw. With deliberate possessiveness, he ran the rough pad of his paw firmly over the curve of her belly, from ribs to haunches, his claws just barely retracted. The gesture was primal, unmistakable: a physical declaration of ownership and the seed sown within.

Toothless stood over her, his chest heaving, rain streaming down his powerful frame. His eyes, fierce and possessive, swept the assembled dragons and the watching Skrill. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head. He extended one powerful forepaw and placed it firmly, possessively, on the smaller Fury's trembling belly. His claws weren't extended, but the pressure was undeniable, pinning her gently to the sand. He dragged his paw slowly, deliberately, down the curve of her abdomen, the rough pads tracing the path where his seed now resided. It was a silent, primal declaration, etched onto her body for all to see. His gaze lifted, locking onto the Skrill and the other dragons, a low, resonant growl vibrating in his chest – a challenge to any who might question his claim.

The Skrill watched, its electric spines crackling faintly. It dipped its head once, a sharp, decisive movement. The message was clear: the claim was recognized. The larger female, who had stood regally watching the entire display, let out a soft, almost disappointed sigh, but she too lowered her head slightly in acknowledgment. The smaller dragon beneath Toothless's paw finally stirred, pushing herself up weakly. She nuzzled Toothless's shoulder, a gesture of submission and acceptance.

Now, she was required. Her stillness broke. She took a single, deliberate step forward, her movements heavy with reluctance yet bound by the ancient code. Her proud head lowered, not in fear, but in resignation to the Alpha’s will. Her intelligent eyes met his, holding a flicker of defiance quickly smothered by duty. The air crackled, thick with ozone and unsaid tension.

He moved with the same focused intensity. Powerful limbs propelled him forward, closing the distance in a heartbeat. His jaws clamped onto the thick hide of her neck, higher up than the smaller Skrill’s nape, a firmer grip necessary for her size and potential resistance. She stiffened momentarily, a low whine escaping her throat as his weight pressed against her larger frame. 

The larger female hesitated for only a heartbeat, her dark eyes wide. Then, instinct took over. She lowered her head, not in submission to his dominance, but in acceptance of his claim. With deliberate grace, she stepped forward, her powerful shoulders rolling, her scales gleaming like wet obsidian. She stopped directly before him, her breath warm against his muzzle. She arched her neck, offering it to him, a silent invitation for the mating hold. Her entire body radiated heat and readiness, waiting for his grasp.

Toothless moved instantly, decisively. His powerful jaws closed firmly, yet carefully, on the thick scruff of her neck. He felt the solid muscle beneath, the sheer power contained within her larger frame. In one fluid motion, he bunched his haunches and launched them both skyward. Her wings snapped open to aid the ascent, but she remained utterly pliant in his grip. They rose swiftly through the lashing rain, leaving the cove and its witnesses far below, climbing towards the storm-wracked clouds where possession would be absolute. Her larger size offered a different challenge, a deeper conquest.

He clamped his powerful thighs around her midsection, anchoring them together in the void. Positioning himself, he drove into her with a single, forceful thrust that drew a sharp, gasping cry from her lungs. Her larger frame yielded deeply to his claim. He moved with relentless, driving efficiency, each powerful surge burying him to the hilt within her. Her keening whines filled the high air as he pistoned against her, focused solely on his release, on planting his seed deep. Her claws scrabbled weakly against his flank, a mere reflex utterly subordinate to his overwhelming force. Her body convulsed beneath him, a tight clench he used to spur his own climax, deeper and more consuming than before.

With a final, guttural roar that echoed in the emptiness, he spent himself. He held deep for a long moment before pulling away sharply. Grasping her neck once more, he dove back through the churning clouds, landing heavily on the black sand beside the first female. He released the larger Fury, letting her slump, panting heavily. Without pause, Toothless placed one heavy forepaw firmly on each female's belly, his claws retracted but the pressure undeniable. His gaze swept the Skrill and the other Furies, a low, resonant growl vibrating through the storm – the undisputed claim laid upon both.

 He released the larger Fury, letting her slump, panting heavily. Without pause, Toothless placed one heavy forepaw firmly on each female's belly, his claws retracted but the pressure undeniable. His gaze swept the Skrill and the other Furies, a low, resonant growl vibrating through the storm – the undisputed claim laid upon both.

The Skrill dipped its head sharply, its spines crackling with approval. The signal ignited the cove. Like obsidian shadows detaching from the basalt cliffs, the remaining Night Furies surged into motion. The largest male, scarred and battle-hardened, targeted the smaller, agile female who had inspected Toothless’s tail fin. He lunged, jaws snapping onto her nape with practiced ease, silencing her startled chirp. He hauled her effortlessly into the air, her wings flapping uselessly against his grip. Below, another pair collided mid-stride – a broad-shouldered male driving a sleek female down onto the wet sand near the booming cave entrance. She offered no resistance, arching her back as he mounted her, the wet slap of scales echoing off the stone.

The Skrill itself moved with crackling purpose. It didn't take flight. Instead, it stalked towards a powerfully built male Night Fury who stood watching the frenzy. A low, resonant hum built in the Skrill's chest, vibrating the air. The male Fury lowered his head, a low rumble answering. The Skrill lunged, not to pin, but to grasp the Fury's neck firmly. With astonishing strength for its size, the Skrill pulled the larger dragon down onto the sand. The Night Fury yielded immediately, rolling onto his side, exposing his flank. The Skrill positioned itself, its crackling spines flaring brighter as it drove forward, a jagged bolt of lightning claiming its own.

The hidden cove became a writhing tapestry of dark scales and primal urgency. Pairs tangled on the sand, in the shallow surf, against the sheer rock faces. Deep, resonant growls mingled with sharp, rhythmic cries and the relentless boom of waves against the caverns. Rain slicked heaving bodies and steamed where dragon heat met cold air.

A male Night Fury, scales gleaming like wet coal, lunged at a female half-hidden near the cove wall. He didn't circle or posture; his jaws clamped onto her neck scruff in a mirror of Toothless’s claim, silencing her startled squawk. He drove her down onto the rain-slicked sand, her wings flaring wide in the impact. Before she could fully react, he mounted her, his powerful hindquarters pistoning with urgent, rhythmic force. Her keening cry was muffled against the beach.

Another pair tangled nearby, rolling in a blur of obsidian scales and spraying sand. This female fought back, snarling, her teeth snapping near the male’s throat – a brief, fierce struggle for dominance. He overpowered her, pinning her shoulders with heavy forelimbs, his weight forcing her chest into the wet grit. A sharp, guttural growl from him silenced her resistance. She went still, arching her spine as he positioned himself and thrust deep, her answering cry sharp.
The Skrill watched, its electric spines flickering with subdued energy. It wasn't idle. A sleek female Night Fury approached it, head lowered respectfully but eyes bright with intent. She nudged the Skrill's flank with her muzzle, a clear invitation. The Skrill tilted its head, a low, crackling rumble vibrating its chest. Then, with surprising swiftness, it coiled its long, serpentine neck around hers, pulling her close. It didn't mount her like the others; instead, it pressed its body flush against hers, wings enveloping her smaller form. They stood locked together, the Skrill's spines glowing brighter, bathing both in an eerie, pulsing blue light as a low hum filled the space between them.

Across the cove, near the roaring mouth of a sea cave, a third male mounted a female already slick with rain. His movements were slower, more deliberate than the frantic pace of the first pairs, each powerful thrust grinding her deeper into the yielding black sand. Her claws flexed, digging furrows as she pushed back against him, a low, rhythmic purr resonating beneath his guttural growls. Nearby, another female, momentarily unclaimed, paced restlessly, her gaze fixed on Toothless who stood vigilant over his two mates. The air thickened with musk, ozone, salt, and the raw, wet sounds of scales sliding against scales and the heavy panting of dragons locked in primal union.

The Alpha Skrill watched Toothless, its electric-blue gaze sharp, analytical. It saw the Night Fury’s unwavering stance over the females, the possessive tension in his coiled muscles, the fierce pride in his eyes. A low, considering rumble vibrated deep within its chest, a sound like distant thunder gathering strength. Then, with a sudden, decisive crackle along its spines, it stepped forward, its movements fluid and purposeful. It didn't approach the females Toothless guarded. Instead, its gaze locked directly onto Toothless himself, a new, intense challenge radiating from its posture.
Toothless stiffened, his head snapping up. He recognized the posture instantly – the same deliberate presentation the females had offered him. But this was the Alpha Skrill, a being of crackling power and ancient authority. A low growl of surprise rumbled in Toothless’s chest, mingling with confusion and a spark of primal intrigue. The Skrill held its ground, its electric eyes unwavering, waiting.
Slowly, deliberately, Toothless stepped away from the females. Rain streamed down his scales as he approached the Skrill, his movements measured, powerful. He circled the larger dragon once, nostrils flaring, taking in the sharp scent of ozone and storm-forged power. The Skrill remained utterly still, radiating controlled energy. Toothless paused directly in front of it. Then, with a low, resonant growl that vibrated the air itself, he leaned forward. His powerful jaws opened, not to bite, but to close firmly, possessively, around the thick base of the Skrill’s serpentine neck. The Skrill’s electric spines flared brilliantly for an instant, a silent acknowledgment, before dimming. It yielded its head to his grasp. Toothless tensed his haunches, ready to launch them skyward, towards the storm’s heart. The ultimate claim awaited.

Slowly, deliberately, Toothless stepped away from the females. He circled the Alpha Skrill, his movements fluid but charged with tension. His nostrils flared, drinking in the scent – ozone, sharp lightning, and a potent, unfamiliar musk. His keen eyes scanned the Alpha’s powerful form: the thick, scaled legs built for explosive force, the broad wings humming with latent energy, the sleek curve of its spine leading to the crackling crest. He noted the Skrill’s size, larger than him, its muscles coiled like thunderheads beneath its dark hide.

The Skrill remained still, allowing the inspection, its electric gaze tracking Toothless’s every move. It saw the Night Fury assess the power in its limbs, the deadly potential in its claws, the immense wingspan designed for storm-riding. It felt Toothless’s scrutiny linger on its own neck, strong and thick, capable of absorbing immense force. The Alpha’s tail, a whip of muscle tipped with crackling spines, lay coiled but ready. This was no passive offering; it was a gauntlet thrown down in the primal arena of dominance. Toothless completed his circle, halting directly before the Skrill.

Suddenly, the Skrill struck. Not with tooth or claw, but with pure, focused lightning. A blinding, blue-white bolt lanced from its dorsal spines, not aimed to kill. It struck Toothless squarely between the shoulders. A searing jolt ripped through him, locking every muscle in an instant of agonizing paralysis. He crashed to the sand, rigid, his body vibrating uncontrollably as the Skrill’s raw energy coursed through him, leaving the acrid tang of burnt ozone in his mouth and the terrifying sensation of absolute helplessness.

The Skrill loomed over the paralyzed Night Fury, a low, satisfied rumble vibrating the air. Its electric-blue eyes roamed possessively over Toothless’s powerful, immobilized form – the taut lines of his neck, the heaving chest, the vulnerable curve of his exposed belly. It lowered its massive head, jaws parting slightly, not in threat, but in primal appraisal, its hot breath washing over Toothless’s scales. A predatory grin seemed to flicker across its draconic features.
With surprising agility, the Skrill twisted its serpentine neck, its jaws closing not with force, but with firm pressure around the thick muscle of Toothless’s shoulder. It was the mating hold, adapted. Toothless felt the crackle of energy radiating from the Skrill’s scales against his own. He responded instinctively, shifting his weight, allowing the Skrill to guide him backwards towards the cliff wall. The Skrill pressed him firmly against the wet basalt, its body a sinuous cage of heat and lightning potential. Its wings mantled, enveloping them both in a crackling, electric shadow. Toothless felt the immense power held in check, the submission offered only in form, not essence. He rumbled, low and commanding, a sound that vibrated through the stone at his back.

Its gaze lingered, sharp and assessing, tracing the sleek black hide, the powerful musculature bunched beneath the skin. What *was* it about this Fury that commanded such respect? Beyond the obvious strength… beyond the defiance… Its eyes narrowed, drawn inevitably to the glint of metal fused seamlessly into Toothless’s hindquarters. The prosthetic tail fin.
Then, deliberately, its focus shifted downward, drawn to the glint of metal amidst the obsidian scales. The prosthetic tail fin, Hiccup’s ingenious creation, lay half-buried in the wet sand. The Skrill’s nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of treated leather, forged steel, and dragonhide fused unnaturally together.
Its gaze lingered, dissecting. Beyond the obvious – the sleek black hide slick with rain, the impressive wingspan pinned awkwardly beneath him – it sought the essence. What *made* this Fury worthy? Not just the cleverly articulated metallic tail fin, a marvel of dragon and human ingenuity, but the raw power coiled in his shoulders, the resilience etched into every scar. Its eyes traced the lines of muscle beneath the scales, the sheer aerodynamic perfection honed by countless flights, the fierce intelligence still burning defiantly in Toothless’s wide, terrified pupils despite the paralysis. The Skrill saw not just a mate, but a prize.

A low, possessive growl rumbled deep within the Skrill’s chest as its gaze intensified. Its long, serpentine neck snaked down, nostrils flaring inches from Toothless’s flank, drinking in the potent scent of ozone, exertion, and pure Fury musk mingled with the sharp tang of fear-sweat. Its spines crackled, sending arcs of blue energy dancing across Toothless’s paralyzed body, making the smaller dragon’s muscles twitch involuntarily. The Skrill wasn't merely inspecting; it was branding, marking Toothless with its raw power, claiming him as utterly as Toothless had claimed the females.

Satisfied with its appraisal, the Skrill shifted its stance. Powerful forelimbs planted firmly on either side of Toothless’s hips, pinning his paralyzed legs. Its long tail whipped possessively around Toothless’s torso, coiling tight like a living chain.
There was no hesitation, no gentle exploration. The Skrill drove into Toothless with brutal, sexy force. A raw, guttural snarl ripped from the Alpha as it breached him, its larger size stretching him to an agonizing limit, the friction against his scales a harsh, wet scrape. Toothless’s body convulsed against the lingering paralysis.
The paralysis held, but the Skrill’s intent was clear. With a powerful twist of its hips, it positioned its massive hindquarters directly over Toothless’s exposed rear. Its thick, scaled tail lashed aside. There was no gentle probing, no seeking invitation. Only raw, dominant purpose. The Skrill’s muscular haunches bunched, and with a single, brutal thrust of terrifying force, it drove itself deep into Toothless. A ragged, choked gasp tore from Toothless’s frozen throat, his eyes wide with shock and agonizing violation. The Skrill’s girth stretched him impossibly, a searing intrusion that eclipsed even the lightning’s burn. It was a claiming beyond mating, a shattering of boundaries.

The Skrill didn’t pause. Its powerful hips pistoned relentlessly, each deep, punishing thrust a violent assertion of supremacy. Scales scraped violently against scales, the wet, brutal sound echoing off the cove walls. Its claws dug into the sand on either side of Toothless’s pinned shoulders, anchoring itself as it hammered into him. A low, guttural roar of pure bliss erupted from the Skrill, vibrating through Toothless’s very bones.

The Skrill sensed the shift instantly. Its relentless rhythm hitched, then deepened, becoming even more purposeful. Its crackling spines flared brighter, bathing Toothless’s exposed form in harsh, pulsing light. A deep, satisfied hum replaced its roar, vibrating through its chest and into Toothless’s shuddering body. This hum wasn’t just dominance; it was *acknowledgment*. It knew. It knew its brutal act had succeeded, that the potent seed it was pumping deep inside Toothless was finding fertile ground. Toothless wasn't just broken; he was *bred*. The Skrill’s electric gaze locked onto Toothless’s wide, terrified eyes, holding him with the absolute certainty of its victory: *You carry my heir.*

Finally, with a final, shuddering thrust that drew a strangled whimper from Toothless’s frozen throat, the Skrill spent itself. A surge of searing heat flooded deep inside him, a final branding. It held itself buried for a long, heavy moment, the only sound the crackle of its spines and the relentless drumming of rain. Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal that was almost as agonizing as the entry, the Skrill pulled away. It stood over Toothless, its powerful chest heaving, electric eyes blazing with possessive triumph. Toothless lay utterly spent, trembling in the aftermath, the impossible weight of impending motherhood settling onto his paralyzed form like a shroud. The Skrill had won more than a challenge; it had forged a future.

Beneath the crushing weight and the searing invasion, a terrifying clarity pierced Toothless’s agony. The Skrill’s brutal rhythm wasn’t just about dominance or pain. It was something else... Each deep, grinding thrust, the sheer force driving into his core, it carried a terrifying biological imperative. The realization struck like a second bolt of lightning: This was seeding. He wasn’t just being mounted; he was being bred. The Skrill wasn't claiming a mate; it was claiming a fellow follower. Toothless’s wide, terrified eyes locked with the Skrill’s crackling gaze. The Alpha’s look held no lust, only cold, ancient certainty.
*You carry my lineage now.*

The Skrill’s movements intensified, becoming shorter, harder, deeper. Its electric spines flared brighter, bathing the recently mated Night Fury in a harsh, pulsing blue light. The energy crackled over Toothless’s paralyzed form, not just branding him externally, but seeming to surge into him with each brutal penetration, as if charging the seed it was planting. A final, bone-jarring thrust drove the Skrill impossibly deep, its powerful body shuddering as it released its claim in a hot, searing flood deep within Toothless. It held itself buried there, a low, possessive hum vibrating through its chest, ensuring every drop took root in the conquered territory.

Then, with shocking abruptness, the Skrill withdrew. The paralysis released its grip, leaving Toothless trembling violently, gasping for air that burned his lungs. He felt hollowed, violated, and terrifyingly changed. A phantom pressure, a deep, internal ache, pulsed where the Skrill had been. He tried to push himself up, but his limbs buckled. As he collapsed back onto the soaked sand, a low, involuntary whine escaped him.  The sound of a dragon confronting a terrifying new reality. The Skrill loomed over him, its electric gaze sweeping his trembling form one last time. Its sharp nod wasn't approval; it was confirmation. The deed was done.


The assembled Night Furies, who had watched the Alpha's brutal claiming with primal understanding, shifted. Their eyes, previously watchful or sated, now fixed on Toothless with a new intensity.

Toothless staggered upright, the phantom ache deep within him warring with a sudden, primal surge. The Skrill's violent seeding had ignited something else – a raw, insatiable hunger. His gaze, still clouded with pain, swept past his exhausted mates towards the treeline. He caught the scent of another Fury – a male, smaller, lurking nervously.

He moved with a predator's swiftness, ignoring the trembling in his own limbs. The smaller male barely had time to react before Toothless was upon him. No challenge, no ritual. Toothless slammed the smaller Fury onto its side in the wet ferns, his jaws clamping hard on the nape of its neck, silencing its startled yelp. He mounted the male with the same brutal efficiency the Skrill had used on him, driving deep and fast. The smaller Fury whimpered, pinned and helpless, as Toothless claimed him with relentless, piston-like thrusts, driven by a need that felt both alien and overwhelming.
The scent of another female, distinct from his mates, drifted from deeper within the storm-lashed forest. Toothless abandoned the trembling male beneath him without a backward glance. He crashed through the undergrowth, scales scraping bark, driven by the raw imperative burning in his veins. He found her near a lightning-split oak – sleek, alert, and radiating challenge. She snarled as he approached, wings flared. He met her challenge head-on, a guttural roar tearing from his throat as they both lunged.

He overpowered her quickly, his greater strength and the primal fury ignited within him proving decisive. Pinning her shoulders with heavy forelimbs, he ignored the shallow scratches she inflicted. His powerful hindquarters drove into her, claiming her with the same deep, urgent rhythm.
Toothless finished with the female beneath him, his roar echoing through the trees. As he dismounted, his gaze snapped to the smaller male. Without hesitation, he lunged again, seizing the male's neck scruff. He dragged the unresisting Fury back towards the first female, his intent clear: Mating.

Back in the small clearing, Toothless forced the smaller male onto the female he'd just claimed. He stood over them, a low growl rumbling in his chest, watching as the male, driven by instinct and Toothless's overwhelming presence, began to mate her. Toothless's eyes burned with an insatiable, electric hunger, scanning the storm-dark woods for the next scent. The Skrill's seed within him pulsed like a second heartbeat.

He thrust hard enough to make her gasp, each powerful surge burying him deep, a physical declaration of *mine*. Yet, his jaws, instead of clamping harshly, gently gripped the thick scruff of her neck, holding her steady without crushing force. His growl was low, resonant, vibrating through her frame – not a threat, but a primal promise of belonging. He moved with controlled power, each deep stroke demanding her surrender while his careful grip spoke of an unyielding claim that wasn't merely about conquest.

She felt the shift. Releasing a low, shuddering purr that rose from her chest. She arched her spine, pushing back against him, meeting his powerful thrusts with eagerness. Her claws, moments ago raking, now flexed gently against the muddy earth. Her head lowered further, nuzzling subtly against the forearm pinning her shoulder, a silent acceptance of his dominance and the unexpected, fierce gentleness within it. The storm’s roar faded into the background, replaced by the heavy rhythm of their joining and the soft, shared sounds of possession.

Toothless maintained the pace, hard and deep, ensuring she felt every claiming inch, every pulse of his need. But the brutal efficiency was gone. He lingered slightly on the withdrawal, drawing out the friction, before driving home again with possessive force. His gaze, fixed on the curve of her neck where his teeth rested gently, burned with a complex fire: the Skrill’s violation still a raw wound, the primal drive to seed, and now, layered over it, this fierce, protective ownership. He wasn’t just taking; he was staking his claim in a way that bound her to him, a counterpoint to the violation he’d endured. He finished with a deep, rumbling groan, spending himself within her, the intensity focused, controlled, and utterly possessive. He held himself buried for a long moment before slowly releasing her neck.
She remained pressed against the muddy earth, panting heavily, her flank rising and falling beneath his weight. A low, contented rumble vibrated in her chest, echoing his own fading growl. Her tail curled slightly, brushing against his hind leg, a subtle, instinctive gesture of connection. Toothless slowly withdrew, stepping back. She rolled onto her belly, watching him with dark, intelligent eyes that held no fear, only a wary acceptance. She didn't flee. She stayed, muddy and rain-slicked, radiating a quiet readiness. He circled her once, a slow, deliberate appraisal, his nostrils flaring as he committed her unique scent to memory earth, rain, and the sharp tang of her own Fury musk mingled now with his. He gave a soft, approving smirk.

Back in the cove, the two original females lifted their heads as Toothless emerged from the trees, The smaller one, still resting near the waterline, let out a soft, needy chirp, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked up at him. The larger female, who had been grooming her flank, immediately ceased, her powerful neck arching gracefully as she turned towards him. A low, rumbling purr vibrated deep in her chest, a sound rich with expectation and unspoken demand. They had witnessed the Skrill’s brutal claiming, felt the shift in the air, and now, seeing their Alpha return with another female in tow, their own primal needs surged anew. They didn’t just want him; they needed his dominance reaffirmed, his scent, his power upon them again.

The larger Fury rose, her movements fluid and deliberate. She didn’t wait for Toothless to approach. She stepped towards him, stopping just within reach, her gaze locked onto his. She lowered her head, not in submission this time, but in offering, her neck stretched out, the thick scruff exposed. A low, insistent growl escaped her, a clear demand. *Mate me again, My Alpha.* Beside her, the smaller female scrambled to her feet, adding her own high-pitched, insistent whine, pushing her head against his flank, her body trembling with urgent need. They pressed close, their heat radiating against his rain-cooled scales, their scents musk, salt, and the lingering scent of the Skrill flooding his senses.

Toothless met her challenge with a rumble that shook the wet sand beneath his paws. He moved swiftly, his teeth finding the scruff she presented. But instead of the gentleness he’d shown the forest female, he gripped hard, pulling her head down sharply, forcing her chest to the ground. She yielded instantly, a shudder of pure need rippling through her powerful frame. He mounted her without preamble, driving into her with deep, possessive thrusts that made her gasp and push back eagerly. This was no tender claiming; it was a reaffirmation of her place beneath him, a reminder etched in force and fire.

He fucked her like she was his to command. His hips piston relentlessly, each powerful surge burying him to the hilt, the wet slap of scales echoing sharply against the cove walls. His claws dug into her flanks, not drawing blood but holding her pinned, immobile against his onslaught. She writhed beneath him, not in protest but in ecstatic submission, her low, keening cries lost in the storm’s roar. He ignored the smaller female’s frantic chirps nearby, his focus absolute, his rhythm brutal and unyielding – a dragon reclaiming his property.


The smaller Fury couldn’t wait. Driven by a desperate hunger ignited by the sight and scent of her Alpha taking the larger female, she scrambled forward on trembling legs. She pushed her head beneath Toothless’s chest, nuzzling insistently against his heaving flank, her entire body vibrating with frantic need. Her high-pitched whines cut through the larger Fury’s deeper moans, a plea impossible to ignore. Toothless snarled, a sound of raw dominance, but didn’t halt his punishing rhythm on the female beneath him. His tail lashed out, hooking around the smaller Fury’s hindquarters, dragging her roughly closer until she was pressed tight against his side, trapped and trembling.

He didn’t dismount the larger female. Instead, he shifted his powerful hindquarters slightly, angling his thrusts while simultaneously lowering his head. His jaws, still gripping the larger Fury’s scruff, tightened possessively as he drove into her one final, grinding time.
His rhythm was brutal, relentless. Each powerful surge buried him to the hilt, the wet slap of scales echoing the Skrill’s earlier violation. He fucked her with a focused intensity, a raw need to, expel the lingering echo of his own mating to the alpha Skrill. He drove into her like she was a vessel for his fury, his powerful hips grinding her deeper into the yielding sand. Her claws flexed, raking furrows as she met his force with desperate pushes, her low, guttural moans lost in the storm’s roar and the frantic drumming of rain on scales.

He felt the climax build, a searing pressure demanding release. With a final, savage thrust that lifted her hindquarters off the sand, he buried himself impossibly deep. A guttural roar tore from his throat, raw and primal, as he pulsed hard within her, flooding her womb with his seed. It was a claiming as deep and violent as the Skrill’s had been upon him – an act of dominance, a purging fire. He held himself buried, trembling, his teeth still locked in her scruff, ensuring she felt every pulse, every drop of his possession.

Slowly, he released her neck and withdrew. The larger Fury remained prone for a moment, panting heavily, her flanks heaving.

A blinding flash tore through the cove, followed instantly by a deafening crack that shook the cliffs. The Alpha Skrill landed like a thunderbolt, sending sand and spray exploding outward. Its electric spines blazed with furious blue-white energy, casting stark, jagged shadows. Its gaze locked onto Toothless, still buried deep in the larger female, and a low, dangerous rumble vibrated the very air – a sound of pure, possessive challenge. It had returned. It had claimed Toothless, seeded him, and now demanded that claim be enforced, Alpha to Alpha.

Toothless snarled, a guttural roar ripping from his throat as he dismounted the female. He whirled to face the Skrill, his own spines flared, muscles coiled like springs. But the Skrill moved with terrifying speed. Another focused bolt lanced out, not the full paralyzing force, but a searing jolt that struck Toothless’s flank. He staggered, a choked gasp escaping him as agony spiked through his nerves. Before he could recover, the Skrill was upon him. Its massive head snaked down, powerful jaws clamping not to harm, but to pin, gripping the thick base of Toothless’s neck just behind his skull in an unbreakable hold of pure dominance. It forced his head down, his powerful body buckling under the immense weight and crackling energy.

Toothless writhed, muscles straining against the Skrill’s crushing weight and the searing intrusion. His claws dug trenches in the wet sand as he fought for leverage, but the Alpha’s grip on his neck was iron, and the paralyzing energy still crackling through his scales left him trembling. The Skrill’s rhythm was relentless, deeper and more possessive than before, as if imprinting its dominance anew. Each thrust carved a deeper ache, a raw blend of violation and terrifying submission that left no doubt—this was the price of standing as an Alpha among Alphas. The storm above mirrored the fury below, lightning illuminating the Skrill’s crackling spines and Toothless’s pinned, shuddering form.
Then, as abruptly as it arrived, the Skrill withdrew. It released Toothless’s neck, stepping back with a crackling hum of satisfaction. Toothless collapsed onto his side, gasping, the deep ache within him a raw testament to the Alpha’s claim.

Then, as abruptly as it arrived, the Skrill withdrew. It released Toothless’s neck, stepping back with crackling spines. Toothless collapsed, gasping, the deep ache pulsing where the Alpha had been. But the Skrill didn’t leave. Instead, it lowered its massive head, electric gaze fixed on Toothless, and let out a low, resonant hum that vibrated the air. It shifted its stance, powerful hindquarters lowering slightly, tail held high and rigidly to one side. The posture was unmistakable—an invitation, not to challenge, but to claim. The Alpha was offering itself.

Toothless’s eyes widened. The brutal seeding, the crushing dominance—it hadn’t just been violation. It had been a lesson. The Skrill’s hum wasn’t mocking; it was acknowledging. Toothless had proven his strength, his resilience. He had endured the Alpha’s power and still stood, battered but unbowed. Now, the Skrill demanded reciprocity. It demanded Toothless prove his own dominance, his right to stand as an equal. The respect was earned through pain, and now it had to be sealed in fire.

A fierce growl ripped from Toothless’s throat. He surged upward, ignoring the trembling in his limbs as the night fury drove into the Alpha Skrill with brutal, piston-hard thrusts, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful surge.

He fucked the Skrill with raw, relentless force—hard and fast, each deep stroke a declaration of his own unleashed fury. Scales scraped, lightning crackled over their joined bodies, and the wet, rhythmic impacts echoed like war drums. Toothless didn’t hold back. He hammered into the Alpha, his powerful hips driving with primal urgency, reclaiming his dominance through the very act the Skrill had forced upon him. The Skrill met his force, pushing back, its low, guttural roars mingling with Toothless’s snarls—a symphony of power and mutual, hard-won respect forged in the mating frenzy.

Positioning his hindquarters against the Skrill’s exposed rear, Toothless drove in with a single, brutal thrust. No finesse, no seeking. Only pure, punishing force. The Skrill roared, a sound of shock and raw sensation, its electric spines flaring blindingly bright as Toothless hammered into it. Each piston-like surge was deep, fast, and utterly relentless, scales scraping violently, a counterpoint to the storm’s fury. Toothless fucked the Alpha Skrill with the same focused, driving intensity it had used on him—a furious declaration of power returned, dominance reclaimed. He buried himself to the hilt with every thrust, the rhythm hard and fast, a physical roar: *I am Alpha too.*

The Skrill bucked beneath him, a shuddering groan tearing from its throat. But it didn’t fight the mounting. Instead, its powerful body pushed back, meeting Toothless’s force with raw, eager pressure. Its electric hum deepened, resonating through Toothless’s bones, not in challenge, but in fierce, primal approval. The claiming was mutual, violent, and absolute. Toothless drove deeper, faster, his growl a continuous rumble of dominance as he seeded the Alpha who had seeded him, the storm bearing witness to their savage, equal union.

Toothless followed instantly, a guttural roar ripped from his chest as his own climax crashed over him. He buried himself to the hilt, pulsing within the Skrill, his juvenile seed joining the electric heat already coursing through the Alpha’s core. It was a raw, primal completion.
Slowly, deliberately, Toothless withdrew, his muscles trembling with exertion and the lingering pulse of release. The Skrill remained bowed for a moment, its spines flickering erratically, before rising to its full height. It turned, its electric gaze locking onto Toothless.

Toothless threw back his head and roared. It wasn’t a sound of challenge or pain, but of pure, unassailable dominance—a declaration that echoed off the cliffs, amplified by the storm. It was met instantly by the unified roar of his mates, their voices merging into a powerful wave of sound that shook the air. The unclaimed dragons watching from the cliffs and treeline joined in, a deafening symphony of scales and fury that washed over Toothless. This was their answer. He was Supreme Alpha.

Slowly, deliberately, the Alpha Skrill lowered its massive head. It didn’t bow low in submission, but dipped its neck just enough—a profound gesture of respect from one sovereign to another. Its spines dimmed, their crackle softening to a low hum. It held the posture, offering its thickly scaled neck to Toothless’s gaze. The message was clear: *You have earned this.* The storm raged around them, but in that moment, the cove held only the silent, electric tension of mutual recognition.


HOURS LATER....

"Hi there bud..." Hiccup tried to greet his dragon as soon as he lands but this latter one growled at him a bit, the young rider understood inmediately as his dragon pass them and went into a cabin next to his house.
"What was it about?" Astrid asked, obviously confused.
"Well.... according to the Book, when dragons mate, they tend to become territorial, temperamental, upset even, the list go on...."
"Ok.... and did you see his belly? It was huge!"
Hiccup smirked "Yeah, it awesome that meant toothless is expecting!"
"What do you mean.... he is...."
"Yes he is.... his species would be alive again in some months..."