Fic: Dresdens and Dragons 2/8
Dresdens and Dragons
A Dresden Files Fanfic
Characters: Harry, Dragon, Ensemble (eventually), Red Court Vampires (deceased).
Pairings: Harry/Dragon, Harry/Marcone (eventually).
Warnings/Kinks: Non-Con, Bestiality, Inflation, M-Preg, Stockholm Syndrome.
Part One
It was dark when Harry woke on a cold, lumpy mound with his brain finally deciding to register the knife stabbing into his ribs with annoying persistence. Groaning, Harry tried to roll onto his side and relieve the pressure, but only managed a weak wobble as a hiss escaped him. He hurt. Everywhere. Some places more than others, but if hair had nerve endings Harry was sure they would be joining the chorus screaming obscenities at him.
He curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his aching stomach, and shivered. The cool silver of his mother's amulet was a welcome relief from the uncomfortable warmth that ran through his body, and his shaking fingers grasped at the metal for reassurance. His magic was coming back, and he spared a feverish thought to wonder how long he had been out, before sending a tiny spark of belief into the symbol.
The pentacle lit up with white-blue light, soft and soothing, and Harry gave a laugh that turned into a cough from his abused throat as he saw his new surroundings. Apparently the myth was true: to an extent. Gold. Silver. Swords and Spears. Pots and pans. Lengths of half-rotted brocade and glittery trinkets. Shiny stuff. Dragons were freaking magpies. Harry coughed, and lurched to the side as he threw up over a melted and warped set of armor, bleeding off some of the pressure that had his insides cramping up on top of everything else.
Wiping his mouth, and he was not going to think about what had been floating in his bile, a vindictive smile crawled onto tired features. Nice, clean, shiny dragon hoard now covered in puke? His head tilted to the side in thought. If he had some pockets he would so be taking a goblet or two with him. They would pay for a few months rent and some new furniture, at least!
"No, no, no." Harry whispered, voice raspy, while pushing through a fevered haze, one hand clutching at his head. "Need to focus. Need a focus. Priorities, Harry. Get them."
His amulet continued to glow against his chest, the pale light bleaching out everything else, and slowly, carefully, Harry stood, grimacing. His legs almost collapsed, and he had to brace himself against a pillar. Muscles twitched and ached, and tiny black dots hovered in front of his eyes threatening to pull him back under, but Harry kept moving. It was a slow, shuffling walk, and he had to use the wall for support, but it was better than continuing to lay there like some kind of... some kind of trophy.
Harry's body wasn't sure it agreed, grumbling in tired rebellion, and he had to remind himself that it was the damn dragon's fault he wanted to pass out. Again.
Harry squinted, ignoring the pounding headache on top of what he was pretty sure was a 100+ temperature, and searched for an exit. The light his magic and faith generated didn't reach very far past the piles of treasures, but he thought he could see a spot of shadowed wall in the distance that was darker than the surrounding blackness. A door. Maybe. Hopefully. With his luck it probably led to a pit of spikes. Or snakes. It was always snakes.
Harry frowned as he ran a hand over the half-healed cuts that had been carved up his thighs and over his stomach, swirling together in a spiral. If the sharp stinging along his shoulder blades was any indication, there was a matching set of cuts on his back as well. They were artistic, and formed a pattern that screamed ritual even though the symbols looked like nothing Harry was familiar with, and Justin had shown him a lot. Blood was a key component in binding rituals, with a power all its own...
Harry swayed as a shiver that had nothing to do with pain went down his spine. Blood and sex. Even a weak practitioner could bring down cities if such was properly applied.
He almost fell over when a pile of coins slid loose under his feet, and caught himself on the ragged edge of a... broken plate? The sound of things crashing caused Harry to wince as he pulled the plate out, examining it. Green Jade.
Halfway to the door, Harry felt something like a buzz low in his belly. An almost six sense seemed to activate, and he knew without seeing, hearing, or smelling its fetid breath the dragon was coming. He had been too slow, though it wasn't like he could have been much faster, and now it was too late.
Harry's head whipped around, vertigo nearly sent him reeling, but there was nowhere to hide. He put out his glowing pentacle with a thought, and closed his eyes, gathering his will. His magic whirled within him, stronger than he expected since his earlier check, and a few trinkets shook with the eddies of it. His skin flushed, and Harry went down to one knee, leaning to the side, panting. Even without Sight, Harry could track the monster in his mind. It was a huge presence, not over bearing, but there.
The dragon sauntered in, confident, dragging a bleeding thing behind it. Still in the half-man form, it tilted its head back and breathed a blue-green fire into the air settling alight a candelabra made of gilded bones. Not all of them were human.
"You should be resting, little wizard." The dragon stated, like a disappointed parent. It moved toward him, and Harry jerked back, muscles screaming in protest, eyes darting between the beast and the carcass leaving a bloody trail behind it.
"What-" Harry's throat threatened to close up. He wanted to yell, wanted to throw fire and insults, but he could barely walk. "What is that?"
"This?" The dragon held it up by a leg, and Harry could see a face. It wasn't human, he could tell that much by the texture of the skin, but it was too close for comfort and he was suddenly reminded of the Reds that weren't going to be bothering anyone again. "This is your dinner."
Harry stared.
The dragon smiled.
"What?" Harry croaked, finally, mind racing.
"Dinner. You need to eat." As if demonstrating, the dragon ripped off a limb and bit into it as though it were a turkey leg at the fair. Fresh blood rolled down its jaws. Harry felt his stomach roll, and looked away. The dragon dropped the rest of the corpse and began circling Harry with a rumbling hum. It stopped, eyes growing dim, and waggled the grey-tinged leg under Harry's nose.
"No. Thanks." Harry managed to get out, leaning away from the offering as disgust rushed through him. The disturbing thing was, as he watched blood drip from the mauled leg to the floor, he was hungry. He wanted to bite into the thing, and who cared what kind of shit eating an unknown creature -unknown faerie creature- would do to his system? But he could still see eyes staring up at him from where the rest of the body had fallen.
If he didn't know better, Harry would have said the dragon was pouting. "You need to feed." It dropped the leg, nostrils twitching, and Harry froze as an inhuman snout sniffed at him, pressing into his stomach. Guarded eyes narrowed, and the dragon growled. "You must feed. If you will not eat that which I have brought you... then you will eat something else."
It leaned back, reaching down between its legs, and Harry froze. He hadn't seen it before, before had been too quick, too confusing and overwhelming, but now he watched as what had to be a penis slid out of hidden sheath in the dragon's body. The dragon was petting itself, growing longer and harder with each loving stroke, and Harry couldn't look away. It was huge. It had been in him.
How was he still alive?
Harry blinked, words rushing through his mind as he gulped. Eat something else. The remembered feel of the thing's tail down his throat. Rutting his mouth. "Fuck." The word came out on its own as realization hit. The dragon's too-sensitive ears picked it up, and it nodded. Happily.
Harry thrust his hand out and channeled power into his shield bracelet. A ball of protection snapped around him, and the dragon didn't frown -Harry wasn't sure its facial muscles were capable- but the expression on its face wasn't exactly pleased. "Do you really think this will go any different than before, wizard? You may be stronger, but you cannot keep this up forever."
The voice, for all it hadn't changed in its low, rough timbre, was oddly hypnotic. Briefly, the wizard wondered if this was what those addicted to vampire saliva felt. Harry took slow, deep breaths, and tried to crawl along the floor to the exit. The dragon watched, continuing to stroke itself the entire time, before striking at the shield and causing a blue flash to light the room. Harry gasped, the pain in body flaring into brilliance behind his eyeballs. Slowly, it began to ebb, and all he could hear was the rumbling purr of the dragon.
It smacked the shield again, which flickered dangerously, and Harry fought to maintain his protection as the cuts in his flesh started to throb with need.
A third strike, this one backed by more than physical strength, brought down the barrier and the dragon zipped in, bowling Harry over and taking a shoulder in one paw, with Harry's chin in the other. It forced open Harry's mouth, held his head in place, and began working a dick as thick as Harry's forearm inside, nearly dislocating his jaw. It tasted like smoke, and the runes burned as the dragon moved. Harry gagged as the dragon reached the back of his throat, and then continued.
Harry's hands moved, grasping, almost on their own. His fingers danced over the length of shaft not inside of him, reaching out to tickle the hard bumps near the root.
The dragon ran a clawed hand over Harry's hair, and began to pull out. Harry only a moment of breathing space before it plunged back in, fucking his mouth, holding him, murmuring in what might have been a language of growls. That tail came up from behind and trailed down Harry's back, along his spine, and one clawed hand reached down to massage Harry's buttock. It hurt, but the pain was distant, and he didn't notice as the dragon's tongue rolled out and licked at the bloody cut on Harry's hand and the rest of his body, bathing him in spit.
When the dragon's dick began to swell in Harry's mouth, it was like an alarm call. Harry fought past the haze, lungs burning for air, and he renewed his struggles but the hand on his shoulder squeezed down. Claws sunk into his body, and tears leaked out of his eyes. The dragon rammed home, holding position as it came. Fresh cum poured hot and sweet down Harry's throat, filling his stomach, and he felt drugged. The dragon pulled away, its member sliding out and back up into its body. Harry leaned over coughing. A line of pearl white cum hung from his mouth.
The world had taken on fuzzy edges, and Harry stared at his too-full stomach with a frown, body lax and warm. The dragon crouched down, and Harry tipped his head back as it enveloped his own penis with its mouth, sucking, sharp teeth tiny, erotic pinpricks against sensitive skin.
Staring past the dragon, Harry's half-closed eyes gleamed. His magic was regenerating, fast, and in the distance, like so many prizes found and forgotten, he could just make out his staff among a pile of rusted pikes and jewels.
More importantly, twenty bucks said his duster was somewhere around, too.
Part Three
A Dresden Files Fanfic
Characters: Harry, Dragon, Ensemble (eventually), Red Court Vampires (deceased).
Pairings: Harry/Dragon, Harry/Marcone (eventually).
Warnings/Kinks: Non-Con, Bestiality, Inflation, M-Preg, Stockholm Syndrome.
Part One
It was dark when Harry woke on a cold, lumpy mound with his brain finally deciding to register the knife stabbing into his ribs with annoying persistence. Groaning, Harry tried to roll onto his side and relieve the pressure, but only managed a weak wobble as a hiss escaped him. He hurt. Everywhere. Some places more than others, but if hair had nerve endings Harry was sure they would be joining the chorus screaming obscenities at him.
He curled in on himself, arms wrapped around his aching stomach, and shivered. The cool silver of his mother's amulet was a welcome relief from the uncomfortable warmth that ran through his body, and his shaking fingers grasped at the metal for reassurance. His magic was coming back, and he spared a feverish thought to wonder how long he had been out, before sending a tiny spark of belief into the symbol.
The pentacle lit up with white-blue light, soft and soothing, and Harry gave a laugh that turned into a cough from his abused throat as he saw his new surroundings. Apparently the myth was true: to an extent. Gold. Silver. Swords and Spears. Pots and pans. Lengths of half-rotted brocade and glittery trinkets. Shiny stuff. Dragons were freaking magpies. Harry coughed, and lurched to the side as he threw up over a melted and warped set of armor, bleeding off some of the pressure that had his insides cramping up on top of everything else.
Wiping his mouth, and he was not going to think about what had been floating in his bile, a vindictive smile crawled onto tired features. Nice, clean, shiny dragon hoard now covered in puke? His head tilted to the side in thought. If he had some pockets he would so be taking a goblet or two with him. They would pay for a few months rent and some new furniture, at least!
"No, no, no." Harry whispered, voice raspy, while pushing through a fevered haze, one hand clutching at his head. "Need to focus. Need a focus. Priorities, Harry. Get them."
His amulet continued to glow against his chest, the pale light bleaching out everything else, and slowly, carefully, Harry stood, grimacing. His legs almost collapsed, and he had to brace himself against a pillar. Muscles twitched and ached, and tiny black dots hovered in front of his eyes threatening to pull him back under, but Harry kept moving. It was a slow, shuffling walk, and he had to use the wall for support, but it was better than continuing to lay there like some kind of... some kind of trophy.
Harry's body wasn't sure it agreed, grumbling in tired rebellion, and he had to remind himself that it was the damn dragon's fault he wanted to pass out. Again.
Harry squinted, ignoring the pounding headache on top of what he was pretty sure was a 100+ temperature, and searched for an exit. The light his magic and faith generated didn't reach very far past the piles of treasures, but he thought he could see a spot of shadowed wall in the distance that was darker than the surrounding blackness. A door. Maybe. Hopefully. With his luck it probably led to a pit of spikes. Or snakes. It was always snakes.
Harry frowned as he ran a hand over the half-healed cuts that had been carved up his thighs and over his stomach, swirling together in a spiral. If the sharp stinging along his shoulder blades was any indication, there was a matching set of cuts on his back as well. They were artistic, and formed a pattern that screamed ritual even though the symbols looked like nothing Harry was familiar with, and Justin had shown him a lot. Blood was a key component in binding rituals, with a power all its own...
Harry swayed as a shiver that had nothing to do with pain went down his spine. Blood and sex. Even a weak practitioner could bring down cities if such was properly applied.
He almost fell over when a pile of coins slid loose under his feet, and caught himself on the ragged edge of a... broken plate? The sound of things crashing caused Harry to wince as he pulled the plate out, examining it. Green Jade.
Halfway to the door, Harry felt something like a buzz low in his belly. An almost six sense seemed to activate, and he knew without seeing, hearing, or smelling its fetid breath the dragon was coming. He had been too slow, though it wasn't like he could have been much faster, and now it was too late.
Harry's head whipped around, vertigo nearly sent him reeling, but there was nowhere to hide. He put out his glowing pentacle with a thought, and closed his eyes, gathering his will. His magic whirled within him, stronger than he expected since his earlier check, and a few trinkets shook with the eddies of it. His skin flushed, and Harry went down to one knee, leaning to the side, panting. Even without Sight, Harry could track the monster in his mind. It was a huge presence, not over bearing, but there.
The dragon sauntered in, confident, dragging a bleeding thing behind it. Still in the half-man form, it tilted its head back and breathed a blue-green fire into the air settling alight a candelabra made of gilded bones. Not all of them were human.
"You should be resting, little wizard." The dragon stated, like a disappointed parent. It moved toward him, and Harry jerked back, muscles screaming in protest, eyes darting between the beast and the carcass leaving a bloody trail behind it.
"What-" Harry's throat threatened to close up. He wanted to yell, wanted to throw fire and insults, but he could barely walk. "What is that?"
"This?" The dragon held it up by a leg, and Harry could see a face. It wasn't human, he could tell that much by the texture of the skin, but it was too close for comfort and he was suddenly reminded of the Reds that weren't going to be bothering anyone again. "This is your dinner."
Harry stared.
The dragon smiled.
"What?" Harry croaked, finally, mind racing.
"Dinner. You need to eat." As if demonstrating, the dragon ripped off a limb and bit into it as though it were a turkey leg at the fair. Fresh blood rolled down its jaws. Harry felt his stomach roll, and looked away. The dragon dropped the rest of the corpse and began circling Harry with a rumbling hum. It stopped, eyes growing dim, and waggled the grey-tinged leg under Harry's nose.
"No. Thanks." Harry managed to get out, leaning away from the offering as disgust rushed through him. The disturbing thing was, as he watched blood drip from the mauled leg to the floor, he was hungry. He wanted to bite into the thing, and who cared what kind of shit eating an unknown creature -unknown faerie creature- would do to his system? But he could still see eyes staring up at him from where the rest of the body had fallen.
If he didn't know better, Harry would have said the dragon was pouting. "You need to feed." It dropped the leg, nostrils twitching, and Harry froze as an inhuman snout sniffed at him, pressing into his stomach. Guarded eyes narrowed, and the dragon growled. "You must feed. If you will not eat that which I have brought you... then you will eat something else."
It leaned back, reaching down between its legs, and Harry froze. He hadn't seen it before, before had been too quick, too confusing and overwhelming, but now he watched as what had to be a penis slid out of hidden sheath in the dragon's body. The dragon was petting itself, growing longer and harder with each loving stroke, and Harry couldn't look away. It was huge. It had been in him.
How was he still alive?
Harry blinked, words rushing through his mind as he gulped. Eat something else. The remembered feel of the thing's tail down his throat. Rutting his mouth. "Fuck." The word came out on its own as realization hit. The dragon's too-sensitive ears picked it up, and it nodded. Happily.
Harry thrust his hand out and channeled power into his shield bracelet. A ball of protection snapped around him, and the dragon didn't frown -Harry wasn't sure its facial muscles were capable- but the expression on its face wasn't exactly pleased. "Do you really think this will go any different than before, wizard? You may be stronger, but you cannot keep this up forever."
The voice, for all it hadn't changed in its low, rough timbre, was oddly hypnotic. Briefly, the wizard wondered if this was what those addicted to vampire saliva felt. Harry took slow, deep breaths, and tried to crawl along the floor to the exit. The dragon watched, continuing to stroke itself the entire time, before striking at the shield and causing a blue flash to light the room. Harry gasped, the pain in body flaring into brilliance behind his eyeballs. Slowly, it began to ebb, and all he could hear was the rumbling purr of the dragon.
It smacked the shield again, which flickered dangerously, and Harry fought to maintain his protection as the cuts in his flesh started to throb with need.
A third strike, this one backed by more than physical strength, brought down the barrier and the dragon zipped in, bowling Harry over and taking a shoulder in one paw, with Harry's chin in the other. It forced open Harry's mouth, held his head in place, and began working a dick as thick as Harry's forearm inside, nearly dislocating his jaw. It tasted like smoke, and the runes burned as the dragon moved. Harry gagged as the dragon reached the back of his throat, and then continued.
Harry's hands moved, grasping, almost on their own. His fingers danced over the length of shaft not inside of him, reaching out to tickle the hard bumps near the root.
The dragon ran a clawed hand over Harry's hair, and began to pull out. Harry only a moment of breathing space before it plunged back in, fucking his mouth, holding him, murmuring in what might have been a language of growls. That tail came up from behind and trailed down Harry's back, along his spine, and one clawed hand reached down to massage Harry's buttock. It hurt, but the pain was distant, and he didn't notice as the dragon's tongue rolled out and licked at the bloody cut on Harry's hand and the rest of his body, bathing him in spit.
When the dragon's dick began to swell in Harry's mouth, it was like an alarm call. Harry fought past the haze, lungs burning for air, and he renewed his struggles but the hand on his shoulder squeezed down. Claws sunk into his body, and tears leaked out of his eyes. The dragon rammed home, holding position as it came. Fresh cum poured hot and sweet down Harry's throat, filling his stomach, and he felt drugged. The dragon pulled away, its member sliding out and back up into its body. Harry leaned over coughing. A line of pearl white cum hung from his mouth.
The world had taken on fuzzy edges, and Harry stared at his too-full stomach with a frown, body lax and warm. The dragon crouched down, and Harry tipped his head back as it enveloped his own penis with its mouth, sucking, sharp teeth tiny, erotic pinpricks against sensitive skin.
Staring past the dragon, Harry's half-closed eyes gleamed. His magic was regenerating, fast, and in the distance, like so many prizes found and forgotten, he could just make out his staff among a pile of rusted pikes and jewels.
More importantly, twenty bucks said his duster was somewhere around, too.
Part Three