syvia
in
springkink
Dragonheart: (Draco/Bowen)
Title: Knightly Endurance
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: ...mild R?
Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of arousal and stimulation.
Word Count: 681
Summary: Draco is somewhat tired of the stalemate and Bowen’s stubborn. What’s a dragon to do?
Prompt: - Dragonheart: Draco/Bowen: 'Encouragement' through judicious application of tongue.: "Could you get your buttocks off my tongue?"
Author’s Notes: Surprise submission~! I’m not sure how I missed this prompt the first time- but I cackled when I saw it. I'd like to thank the AIM buddies who helped me with movie details I'd forgotten- you know who you are~! Hope you all enjoy. >D
"Why should you be comfortable?"
Yes, why indeed.
Knights of the Old Code. Pah. Discomfort was of little consequence- pain something to be noted and dismissed as a passing irritation. He would stay sitting there until he fell asleep- and it might very well be a long time until then.
Now, he could very easily dislocate his jaw and spit the fool out- but that would be more than somewhat painful and ache for days afterward.
Well... a Knight was trained to fight through pain and discomfort, but perhaps something else...
Bowen tightened his grip as the creature moved- he felt himself bounced upward slightly and his eyes darted from one side of the massive jaw to the other. No... the teeth weren't moving.
This was unutterably disgusting. His trews were, thankfully, good buckskin and waterproof- but his tunic was not and the drool had begun to soak upward enough that he could feel it against his abdomen. If the dragon expected him to die of boredom, it would not happen. His was the patience of a week-long journey and light sleep each night as protection from wild beasts.
He could endure this.
The dragon’s tongue moved.
Bowen shifted his feet, bracing them securely on either side of the lower jaw. The beast would not swallow him whole.
The tongue moved again- sliding beneath his buttocks, between his legs. Bowen made a face. He never should have said that the situation could not become more uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?”
“I tol oo, ii vouth ih vyy.”
“Well suffer then- I am not the one who put us in this position.”
“Hnn...”
The dragon’s tongue moved again, rubbing firmly against Bowen’s body- against the inside of his thighs and his... oh Lord. It wasn’t.... Bowen shut his eyes tightly, as if he could escape the situation by not seeing it. He bit back a moan. The dragon was... licking... his nether regions. Whether by accident or design, each slide of that tongue was a firm stroke against his body, heat and friction- and the tip of it curled behind his buttocks, pressure at the base of his spine and down- and up....
“Stop-” he sucked in his breath as a sudden slide tightened things low in his body, his manhood strained within the confines of his trews and- the dragon stopped.
Bowen relaxed cautiously, muscle by muscle, but for one that wouldn’t soften without help or time. What was it doing now? Bowen flinched, tensed again as a rumbling began, deep in the dragon’s throat. He squinted, then widened his eyes- fire. But he had thought it was the nostrils that expelled fire- the breath could only strengthen it, not begin it. Bowen shifted his weight, ready to thrust upward- to stand and kill the beast as it killed him-
Then the sound.
There was no heat, no flame or gaseous brimstone- just a deep reverberation- a rumbling that came from the back of the creature’s throat. Its tongue had curled so that Bowen sat in a valley between the pointed tip and the middle, placing his buttocks firmly in the center of warm muscle- the sound traveled up, past him with foul breath and heat and the dragon’s tongue was... vibrating. A steady pulse of movement against him.
Bowen clenched his jaw and groaned.
Brother Gilbert flinched out of his doze and crept closer to the top of the hill. There was a terrible noise- loud and sonorous as the stampede of a hundred hundred horses. He poked his head up to look- the brave knight was alive still, sword in hand, sitting in the very maw of hell. He could see the knight’s face, tight with strain, eyes tightly shut.
“And horrible the torturous sound,
the dragon’s fearful roar-
the ground did shake, the earth did quake,
and knight, his ears doth gore-”
he murmured to himself, frowning in sympathy for the poor man’s plight.
“But faithful soldier was he then,
his heart with strength did thrum,
and out of battle, through time he would
in triumph surely come.”
Author/Artist: syvia
Rating: ...mild R?
Warnings: Non-graphic descriptions of arousal and stimulation.
Word Count: 681
Summary: Draco is somewhat tired of the stalemate and Bowen’s stubborn. What’s a dragon to do?
Prompt: - Dragonheart: Draco/Bowen: 'Encouragement' through judicious application of tongue.: "Could you get your buttocks off my tongue?"
Author’s Notes: Surprise submission~! I’m not sure how I missed this prompt the first time- but I cackled when I saw it. I'd like to thank the AIM buddies who helped me with movie details I'd forgotten- you know who you are~! Hope you all enjoy. >D
"Why should you be comfortable?"
Yes, why indeed.
Knights of the Old Code. Pah. Discomfort was of little consequence- pain something to be noted and dismissed as a passing irritation. He would stay sitting there until he fell asleep- and it might very well be a long time until then.
Now, he could very easily dislocate his jaw and spit the fool out- but that would be more than somewhat painful and ache for days afterward.
Well... a Knight was trained to fight through pain and discomfort, but perhaps something else...
Bowen tightened his grip as the creature moved- he felt himself bounced upward slightly and his eyes darted from one side of the massive jaw to the other. No... the teeth weren't moving.
This was unutterably disgusting. His trews were, thankfully, good buckskin and waterproof- but his tunic was not and the drool had begun to soak upward enough that he could feel it against his abdomen. If the dragon expected him to die of boredom, it would not happen. His was the patience of a week-long journey and light sleep each night as protection from wild beasts.
He could endure this.
The dragon’s tongue moved.
Bowen shifted his feet, bracing them securely on either side of the lower jaw. The beast would not swallow him whole.
The tongue moved again- sliding beneath his buttocks, between his legs. Bowen made a face. He never should have said that the situation could not become more uncomfortable.
“What are you doing?”
“I tol oo, ii vouth ih vyy.”
“Well suffer then- I am not the one who put us in this position.”
“Hnn...”
The dragon’s tongue moved again, rubbing firmly against Bowen’s body- against the inside of his thighs and his... oh Lord. It wasn’t.... Bowen shut his eyes tightly, as if he could escape the situation by not seeing it. He bit back a moan. The dragon was... licking... his nether regions. Whether by accident or design, each slide of that tongue was a firm stroke against his body, heat and friction- and the tip of it curled behind his buttocks, pressure at the base of his spine and down- and up....
“Stop-” he sucked in his breath as a sudden slide tightened things low in his body, his manhood strained within the confines of his trews and- the dragon stopped.
Bowen relaxed cautiously, muscle by muscle, but for one that wouldn’t soften without help or time. What was it doing now? Bowen flinched, tensed again as a rumbling began, deep in the dragon’s throat. He squinted, then widened his eyes- fire. But he had thought it was the nostrils that expelled fire- the breath could only strengthen it, not begin it. Bowen shifted his weight, ready to thrust upward- to stand and kill the beast as it killed him-
Then the sound.
There was no heat, no flame or gaseous brimstone- just a deep reverberation- a rumbling that came from the back of the creature’s throat. Its tongue had curled so that Bowen sat in a valley between the pointed tip and the middle, placing his buttocks firmly in the center of warm muscle- the sound traveled up, past him with foul breath and heat and the dragon’s tongue was... vibrating. A steady pulse of movement against him.
Bowen clenched his jaw and groaned.
Brother Gilbert flinched out of his doze and crept closer to the top of the hill. There was a terrible noise- loud and sonorous as the stampede of a hundred hundred horses. He poked his head up to look- the brave knight was alive still, sword in hand, sitting in the very maw of hell. He could see the knight’s face, tight with strain, eyes tightly shut.
“And horrible the torturous sound,
the dragon’s fearful roar-
the ground did shake, the earth did quake,
and knight, his ears doth gore-”
he murmured to himself, frowning in sympathy for the poor man’s plight.
“But faithful soldier was he then,
his heart with strength did thrum,
and out of battle, through time he would
in triumph surely come.”