Chapter 46: The Morning's Fire
The cave was a silent, dark womb. The only sounds were the distant whine of the wind at the entrance and Kael’s tiny, whistling snores from a hollow in the wall where he’d made a nest of wool scraps. Dan swam up from a deep, dreamless sleep, his body heavy and warm. The sharp sting on his left shoulder was the first anchor to reality. The second was the warmth at his back—a solid, radiating line of heat.
Dargo slept behind him, close but not touching. Dan could feel him through the bond, a low, resonant hum of presence, like standing near a dormant forge.
Then the hum changed.
It wasn’t a sound. It was a vibration in the space behind his navel, a psychic nudge. Insistent. Repetitive. Like a thumb pressing against a bruise in his soul.
Dan groaned into the dusty bedding. Go away. Sleeping.
The nudge came again, sharper this time, accompanied by a wave of focused, possessive attention. It felt like being studied by a large cat.
…go back to sleep you possessive lizard.
The answer bloomed in his mind, rich with amusement. Nope.
It’s still dark.
The sky is beginning to grey. Kael will be awake soon. He is dreaming of sparkly rocks. His thoughts are loud.
Dan buried his face deeper into the folded tunic he used as a pillow. The bond was thrumming now, no longer sleepy. It was charged with a slow, rolling current of want. It wasn’t frantic. It was deliberate. Luxurious. It felt like Dargo was stretching, both physically and mentally, and wrapping himself around the idea of Dan.
You are mine, little treasure. You are my dazzling, perfect gem, and I want to make you shine.
The implication, painted in vivid sensory echoes across the bond, was unmistakable. Heat pooled low in Dan’s gut. His body, still loose with sleep, responded traitorously. Can’t this wait until the sun is up?
Do you want Kael to witness that? The question was accompanied by a flash of image—the little dragon’s curious, upside-down head peering between them.
Dan thought for a moment. …if I say yes, can I go back to sleep?
An audible chuckle rumbled from behind him, a soft, dark sound in the quiet cave. Dargo’s warmth shifted closer. His breath stirred the hair at the nape of Dan’s neck. No, my gem. It is either you let me worship you, or we train. Sparring. Now. In the cold. Your choice.
The offer was a farce. The wanting in the bond was a thick, sweet syrup, drowning any notion of discipline. Dan rolled onto his back, blinking up at the shadowed ceiling. The new scar pulled, a bright thread of sensation. He could feel Dargo looking at him, those gold eyes catching the faintest light.
“Worship, huh?” Dan whispered into the dark.
“Verbatim.”
Dargo moved then. He didn’t roll over Dan. He slid alongside him, one heavy arm coming over his waist, palm splayed flat on his stomach. The touch was electric through the thin linen of his shirt. Dargo’s head dipped, his nose tracing the line of Dan’s jaw. His braid brushed like silk across Dan’s chest.
“The claiming is in the blood and the bone,” Dargo murmured, his lips now against Dan’s throat. His voice was a physical thing, a vibration Dan felt in his teeth. “But this… this is for the flesh. For the pleasure. I want to learn what makes you shudder.”
Dan’s breath hitched. He turned his head, finding Dargo’s mouth in the gloom. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a claiming of a different sort—deep, hungry, all tongue and heat. Dargo tasted of cold water and something fundamentally wild. Dan’s hands came up, one tangling in the long, sleek braid, the other gripping the powerful muscle of Dargo’s bandaged shoulder, careful of the wound.
Dargo growled into the kiss, the sound traveling straight to Dan’s cock. He was hard, aching, the linen of his trousers suddenly intolerable. Dargo’s hand slid down from his stomach, palming him through the fabric, a rough, perfect pressure.
“Fuck,” Dan gasped, breaking the kiss.
“Yes,” Dargo agreed, a dark promise.
He moved with a predator’s efficiency. Dan’s shirt was pulled over his head and discarded. The cool cave air pebbled his skin, followed immediately by the searing heat of Dargo’s mouth on his chest, licking a stripe over a nipple, sucking it to a tight peak. His teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and Dan arched off the bedroll with a choked-off cry.
“Quieter,” Dargo breathed, his mouth trailing fire down Dan’s abdomen. “Unless you want an audience.”
His fingers made quick work of Dan’s trousers, yanking them down over his hips. Dan kicked them off, his skin singing. The bond was wide open, a floodgate. He could feel Dargo’s consuming focus, the sheer pleasure he took in every reaction—the hitched breath, the trembling thigh, the leaking head of Dan’s cock brushing against his own stomach. It was dizzying.
Dargo’s hand wrapped around him, calloused and sure. He pumped slowly, his thumb smearing precome over the slit. “Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “Perfect.”
Then he bent his head.
The first hot, wet touch of his tongue to the head of Dan’s cock was blinding. Dan’s head slammed back against the bedding, a string of filthy, shattered curses spilling from his lips. Dargo took him deeper, his mouth an obscene, skillful heat. He didn’t just suck. He worshipped. He licked the veined underside, swallowed him down until Dan felt the head nudge the back of his throat, then pulled off with a filthy, wet sound to lap at his balls.
Dan was panting, his hands fisted in the bedroll. The dual sensations—the physical, breathtaking pleasure of Dargo’s mouth, and the psychic echo of Dargo’s own fierce enjoyment—were pushing him to the edge too fast. “Dargo… I’m gonna…”
Dargo pulled off with a final lick. “Not yet.”
He shifted, his own clothes magically gone, the heat of his fully naked body blanketing Dan. The feel of him—all hard muscle, rough hair, and the intimidating, thick length of his erection pressing against Dan’s hip—was a shock of reality. This was no dream. This was a centuries-old dragon, rutting against him, wanting him.
“I need to be inside you,” Dargo gritted out, the words raw. “I need to feel you around me. Will you let me?”
Dan could only nod, spreading his legs in invitation. He was past words.
Dargo reached for his pack, retrieving a small horn vial. Dan heard the pop of the stopper, then the slick, wet sounds of preparation. A cool finger, lubricated, pressed against him. Dan tensed for a second, the intrusion unfamiliar, then forced himself to relax. Dargo’s mouth was on his again, kissing him deep and filthy, distracting him as the finger worked in, circling, stretching. A second joined it, scissoring gently. The stretch burned, then melted into a strange, full feeling that made Dan moan into Dargo’s mouth.
“You’re so tight,” Dargo breathed, his own control fraying. The bond was a storm of need. “Ready?”
“Yes. God, yes, just… fuck me. Please.”
The please did something to Dargo. A low, possessive rumble tore from his chest. He positioned himself, the broad, blunt head of his cock pressing where his fingers had been. He pushed.
The world fragmented.
The initial burn was sharp, breathtaking. Dan cried out, and Dargo swallowed the sound with another kiss, his hands coming up to cradle Dan’s face. “Breathe, treasure. Breathe for me.”
Dan gasped, the air shuddering into his lungs. The pain crested, then ebbed, transformed into a feeling of unimaginable fullness. Dargo was huge, stretching him open, burying himself to the hilt in one slow, inexorable thrust. They were joined, completely. Dan could feel every inch of him, a claiming more profound than any scar.
Dargo held still, his body trembling with the effort. Sweat dripped from his temple onto Dan’s cheek. “Are you…?”
“Move,” Dan begged, his voice wrecked. “Just move.”
Dargo obeyed.
He pulled out almost all the way, then slammed back in. It knocked the air from Dan’s lungs in a punched-out grunt. The rhythm Dargo set was relentless, a powerful, driving pace that shook the bedroll beneath them. Each thrust dragged against that spot inside him that lit up his nervous system like a lightning storm. Pleasure, sharp and blinding, coiled at the base of his spine.
The cave filled with the sounds of their fucking: the slap of skin on skin, Dargo’s guttural groans, Dan’s broken, keening cries. Dargo shifted the angle, hiking Dan’s legs higher over his hips, and the next thrust hit perfectly.
“There! Fuck, right there!” Dan shouted, his back bowing.
Dargo’s pace became punishing, focused, his eyes locked on Dan’s face. “You feel… you feel like heaven clamped around my cock,” he snarled, his voice thick. “Mine. Taking me so well. My perfect, tight gem.”
The filthy praise, the raw, physical mastery, sent Dan spiraling. His own cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked stomachs, leaked incessantly. He was so close, the pressure unbearable.
“Dargo, I’m… I can’t…”
“Come for me,” Dargo commanded, his thrusts becoming erratic, his own end near. “Mark yourself as mine. Now.”
It was the permission, the order, that snapped the last thread. White-hot pleasure detonated through Dan’s body. He came with a silent, gasping scream, stripes of hot release painting his stomach and chest. His internal muscles clenched violently around Dargo’s cock, milking him.
With a roar that was muffled against Dan’s shoulder, Dargo followed. Dan felt the hot, pulsing flood deep inside him, a final, wet, possessive claim. Dargo thrust through it, grinding deep, as if he could fuse them together.
They collapsed, a tangled, breathless, sticky mess. Dargo’s weight was immense, but Dan welcomed it, the solid reality of him. Their hearts hammered against each other, slowly settling into a syncopated rhythm.
For long minutes, the only sound was their ragged breathing. The bond was a quiet, saturated hum of profound satisfaction, deeper than any Dan had felt from Dargo before. It wasn’t just sated lust. It was contentment. A deep, rumbling peace.
Dargo finally moved, pulling out gently. He fetched a cloth, cleaned them both with a surprising tenderness, then dragged the fur blanket over them. He pulled Dan back against his chest, his nose buried in Dan’s hair. His bandaged arm rested over Dan’s waist.
“Alright?” Dargo’s voice was a sleepy rumble.
“Mm.” Dan was boneless, floating. The new scar on his shoulder throbbed in time with the pleasant, deep ache between his legs. He’d never felt so thoroughly used, or so utterly safe. “That was… instructional.”
A chuckle vibrated through Dargo’s chest. “Merely the first lesson.”
From his nook, Kael let out a particularly loud snore, followed by a sleepy chirp. “Shiny…”
Dargo’s arms tightened around Dan. “Sleep a little longer. The coast is still days away. We have time.”
Dan closed his eyes, listening to the wind’s distant howl and the steady, mighty heartbeat against his back. The cave was no longer just a shelter of stone. It was a sanctuary, defined by the heat of the body wrapped around his and the silent, thunderous truth echoing in the newly forged space between their souls. They had crossed another line, and the path ahead, for the first time, felt less like an exile and more like a destination.
They had crossed another line, and the path ahead, for the first time, felt less like an exile and more like a destination. Dan floated in the warm, satiated darkness behind his eyelids, lulled by the steady thunder of Dargo’s heartbeat against his back. The bond was a quiet lake, its depths still shimmering with the aftershocks of their coupling. He drifted, time losing its shape in the cave’s perpetual gloom, aware only of the heat of the body spooned around his and the pleasant, aching reminder between his legs.
Sleep reclaimed him, deep and dreamless.
He surfaced later to the familiar, demanding prod against the bond. It was softer now, blurred by residual exhaustion, but its intent was clear. A low, possessive need, circling again. Dan groaned internally, pushing a muddled thought back. Too soon. Everything hurts.
A rumble vibrated through the chest behind him. You are resilient. I felt it.
My resilience is sleeping, Dan thought back, but he could feel his own body stirring, blood moving south despite the protest of well-used muscles. The memory of Dargo’s mouth, his hands, the devastating fullness, was a live wire. His cock twitched, interest renewed.
He needed a moment. A tactical retreat. With a deliberate, tired groan, he shifted Dargo’s heavy arm from his waist and sat up. The cave air chilled the sweat-damp skin of his back.
“Where?” Dargo’s voice was a sleep-roughened scrape.
Dan sent a single, simple concept along the bond: Latrine.
Dargo grunted, his presence receding into a drowsy haze. “Do not wander far. The cliffs are deceptive in the dark.”
“I know,” Dan muttered, pulling on his trousers and stumbling toward the cave entrance. The bramble curtain scraped his arm as he pushed through. Outside, the pre-dawn world was a study in monochrome, the wind a knife’s edge scented with pine and distant salt. He relieved himself against a lichen-crusted rock, his breath pluming in the air, his mind clearing.
The thought took root, fed by the cool air and the lingering, powerful memory of being thoroughly mastered. A spark of mischief, faint but bright, ignited in his chest. He wanted to turn the tables. To worship, but on his terms. To see what sounds he could wrench from that controlled, ancient throat.
He crept back into the cave silently. Kael was a soft, sleeping lump. Dargo had shifted in his absence. He now lay sprawled on his back across the furs, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other resting on his chest. The fur blanket was pooled around his hips, leaving the powerful planes of his chest and abdomen exposed. The bandage on his shoulder was a stark white in the gloom. He appeared asleep, his breathing deep.
Dan knew better. The bond was a silent, watchful thread.
He let his trousers drop again. Then, moving with a careful, predator’s grace of his own, he went to the foot of the bedroll. He lifted the heavy fur and slid underneath it, into the dark, warm space fragrant with their earlier sex and Dargo’s unique scent of smoke and stone.
The world narrowed to touch and sound and the electric hum of the bond. He crawled forward on his hands and knees, the rough wool of the bedding beneath his palms. He slid between Dargo’s spread legs, the heat emanating from him immense. Dan nuzzled the inside of a powerful thigh, feeling the coarse hair against his cheek.
He heard Dargo’s breath catch, a slight hitch. The arm over his eyes didn’t move.
Dan leaned in. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the base of Dargo’s cock, which was already half-hard, lying thick against his thigh. He licked a slow, wet stripe from root to tip, savoring the salt-and-musk taste of him, the velvety skin over unyielding heat.
A full-body shudder went through Dargo. A low, barely audible sound escaped him.
Emboldened, Dan did it again. He took his time, exploring with his tongue, licking along the prominent vein, swirling around the head to gather the bead of moisture already forming there. He avoided taking him fully into his mouth, focusing instead on these slow, teasing strokes. He wanted to unravel him. He wanted the control he’d so willingly relinquished before.
“Dan.” His name was a warning, a strangled plea.
Dan ignored it. He closed his lips over the head, sucking gently, his tongue pressing into the slit. He let one hand come up to cradle Dargo’s heavy balls, rolling them gently in his palm. The other hand stroked the length of him, from root to tip, in a counter-rhythm to his mouth.
Dargo’s hips jerked, a tiny, involuntary thrust. His hand fisted in the fur. The bond was a torrent of stunned, shattered concentration. Little treasure—
My turn, Dan sent back, the thought crisp and clear. He took him deeper, relaxing his throat, letting the thick head press into the tight channel. He sucked hard as he pulled back, creating a filthy, wet pop.
“Fuck.” The word was ripped from Dargo, raw and honest.
Dan redoubled his efforts. He bobbed his head, taking more of him each time, using his hand on the base, his mouth a slick, tight heat. He listened, learning. The ragged breaths. The guttural groans that seemed punched from his gut. The way Dargo’s stomach muscles clenched and trembled under Dan’s other hand, which now rested there. He was mapping a new territory, finding the places that made the mighty dragon thrash.
“Dan, stop… I’m too close…” Dargo’s voice was wrecked, his control in tatters.
Dan pulled off, his lips swollen and wet. He looked up the long line of Dargo’s body. The arm was off his eyes now. Those molten gold irises were glazed, locked on him with a look of pure, ravaged hunger. “Yeah?” Dan whispered, his own voice hoarse. He stroked Dargo’s cock slowly, smearing precome. “You want to come in my mouth?”
The growl that answered was purely animal. Dargo’s hand snapped down, tangling in Dan’s hair. Not to push him away. To hold him there. “Yes. Now. Do it.”
The command, the sheer desperation in it, was the final trigger. Dan took him back in, deep, until his nose was buried in coarse hair. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked, relentless.
Dargo came with a choked, shuddering roar, his hips lifting off the furs. Hot, bitter salt flooded Dan’s mouth. He swallowed, working him through it, until Dargo’s grip in his hair turned from demanding to trembling, until he was spent and softening.
Dan crawled out from under the fur, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked down at Dargo, who was utterly wrecked—sweat-sheened, chest heaving, eyes dazed. A profound, smug satisfaction bloomed in Dan’s chest.
For a long moment, Dargo just stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then he turned his head. The look he gave Dan was not one of sated indulgence. It was one of raw, stunned revelation. As if Dan had just rewritten a fundamental law of his universe.
“You,” Dargo breathed, the word laden with a new, profound weight. “You treacherous, brilliant little gem.”
Dan grinned, the expression feeling wild on his face. “Just returning the favor.” He lay down beside him, the chill of the cave finally reaching his skin.
Dargo turned onto his side, his gaze intense, searching Dan’s face. His large hand came up, calloused fingers tracing Dan’s jaw, his lips. The bond thrummed with something deeper than lust, more complex than possession. It was awe. A respect that had been intellectual before, but was now engraved in the flesh.
“When I said worship,” Dargo murmured, his thumb brushing Dan’s lower lip, “I did not expect to become the supplicant.”
“Surprise,” Dan said softly.
From his nook, Kael stirred, letting out a massive yawn. “Is it breakfast time? I smell… weird smells.”
Dargo’s eyes never left Dan’s. A slow, real smile, one Dan had rarely seen, touched his mouth. It transformed his entire face, stripping away centuries of guarded solitude. “Yes, Kael. It is time. We have a coast to find.” He leaned in, his forehead resting against Dan’s. “And a great deal more to learn.”