dragons
Even though they were just dark mirrors, I still watched her eyes.
Her eyelids revealed that she was looking down, watching me in turn. And when they began to narrow, perhaps her sight through those mysterious orbs was becoming unfocused; and she was about to come.
Sometimes I would keep working my fingers or tongue through that moment, with ruthless energy. But I knew that she preferred to be allowed to free-fall to a deeper, and ultimately greater implosion.
So I stopped, abruptly, and planted the flat of my tongue on her clitoris, holding her firmly under her thighs. I knew this was risky. If she was not close enough, she would float for a moment and then begin to plummet back. Then she could become frustrated, and my renewed exertions may not be enough to rescue her arousal.
She might even begin to revert: from woman, to dragon.
I could feel her heat under my tongue, her accumulated tension, ready for release. One second passed; two. A muscle in my arm twitched. My mouth was wide around her pubic bone, my teeth pressing into softness. I focussed all of my passion, my desire for her, into my tongue and my eyes. If I were uncertain, she would see.
Her mouth was open, but I knew that no breath was passing those ruby lips. Then: suddenly; she flickered, like a fading hologram. Fuck!
I tensed. But before I could move my tongue, directly under it: thump.
I watched as her head began to fall backward, her back to arch upward. Her loins contracted again, thump, and again, getting even stronger: thump, thump, thump thump thump …
My relief and amazement were like an orgasm themselves, and I moaned them directly into her body through our firm, wet connection, over and around the contractions that thudded remorselessly up from her vagina and clitoral shaft and into my mouth.
As they faded, her breath returned with a high, aspirant, alien keening, so deeply arousing that my own loins were crying out like agony for the same release. I pressed my thighs together, savouring the slick heaviness. But I still held her, and watched her, and felt a love like I had never known with any mere human.
At last her body relaxed, and mine with it. Her head was flopped to the side, out of sight, and so I focussed on her vulva as I lifted my mouth gently away from her. It was a perfect flower, just like I had long ago imagined in teenage dreams. Its wetness invited my tongue, so I licked its velvet petals lightly, hungrily, tasting her. For a moment I considered beginning again, building my caresses into a rhythm.
But my own desire was too great. I lifted my head, kissing beside and over her pubic mound. Her human form had improved in fidelity each time we made love, but only in the details: her choices still tended to pornographic extremes. Her pubic hair was soft and precisely shaped; the abdomen I kissed had the thinnest layer of softness over ruthlessly toned muscle; above I could see bulbous breasts rising undiminished and only slightly spread by her prone position.
I raised myself onto outstretched arms to take in the full glory of her body. Her head remained flopped to the side, but the flash of reflection hinted that again, she was watching me. Then her fingers rose to touch the side of my head, trailing onto my neck and shoulder, then finally making a gentle round of one hanging breast before dropping back in exaggerated exhaustion.
I laughed and mirrored the caress with one of my own hands on her body, leaving it pressed convincingly on her breast. Its size made my fingers look miniature — the aureole filled the space between my outstretched thumb and index finger, the nipple fully half an inch across and in height. I allowed my laugh to fall into a growl of desire and raised one leg, then the other, over hers, to straddle her.
Now she turned her head to me and reached both hands up to pull me into a kiss. As I leaned down I watched her eyes as long as I could. They were tantalising, enigmatic. I no longer thought of them as alien, but I desperately wanted to overcome their emptiness and see into her soul.
The kiss immediately dismissed any notion that my own arousal might be left unfulfilled. Her mouth gaped, her tongue thrust against mine. I could feel the brush of my tomboy breasts against the prodigious rise of hers, and the image and the moment made me groan, and flex my back to try and press my heavy, heavy vulva onto her pubic bone.
I had to rise to grind against her properly, and she allowed it for a moment, still holding onto my neck with both hands and smiling slightly. Cheeky bitch I thought, letting me do all the work; but I could not help myself. I squeezed with the fingers that still held her breast, and growled through gritted teeth.
But then she twisted and pressed with one hand to push me to one side. I tucked down beside her for a moment, savouring the closeness of her body; and then she was rising above me, still between my legs. From this angle her leanness made her seem almost petite; but her mane of pink-streaked blonde hair, red, red lips, and those tremendous breasts lent her the aspect of a fallen angel.
And of course, furled tightly behind her, but visible over her shoulders and on either side of her arms like a brilliant white corona, were her wings.
I tucked my hands under her breasts to cradle her ribs. She was pushing against me hard, forcing my legs wide, her shoulders in an exquisite shrug, their muscles rippling; I moaned with terrible desire. I had not forgotten her nature; but in that dreamlike moment all that mattered was that for now at least, she was a beautiful woman.
She was rising against me, but the feel of her loins was powerful and precise, firm against my clitoris, pushing, pushing. Jolts of ecstasy careened through me at every thrust. I watched her face, expressionless; her breasts, rebounding slightly; the flexing of her abdomen.
Despite the warmth of her body, the touch against my clitoris was cool. As my eyes dropped further, something jarred: her pubis was actually rising away from me, but the contact remained, even extended down, and around, pressing through my lips.
She must have detected my sudden alarm, for one of her hands grasped my wrist, and brought my palm to her cheek, and my eyes with it.
For a moment I did not understand. I was frightened, my arousal was failing. But then she inclined her head, looking at me squarely with wide mirror eyes. I am alien, she seemed to say. But I am beautiful, and I am yours. Trust me.
What was she doing? What shape was she making, beneath that perfect flower? I could not help but look: I could see nothing between us but perhaps a flash of silvery grey, like the armour of her dragon form.
Her movement had slowed and softened as she watched for my reaction, but it was still enough to reassure me of her exquisite empathy. As my sight trailed back over her extravagantly feminine shape, I found that for my body at least, there was no question. I was moaning, my heels dragging to pull my torso onto the something that pressed, so firm against my vulva. I reached her face with my eyes, and my conclusion with my mind: I did trust her.
The feeling below was like fingers wetted in cold water, exploring, pushing. But no fingers could so perfectly caress every ecstatic nerve, the touch and pressure and motion combining like music. And when her body itself renewed its sinuous thrusting, the sight and sound of her joined the symphony; and my whole being was consumed by it.
She was above me, she was against me, she was inside me. I joined her rhythm instinctively, so that my stomach tensed to draw my hips upward with every beat of our crescendo. I gazed at her in amazement, and she at me, with silvery nothingness.
I wanted to explode, I wanted to defy my explosion, I wanted my dragon to fuck me forever. I told her so, in a breathless whisper. Perhaps she understood. Her thrusting was even more urgent, her face revealing a beautiful agony of her own. My god, she’s going to come too. We’re going to come together.
Her torso was dropping down onto me, as all her attention seemed to focus inward and downward. When her hanging, lurching breasts touched mine I seemed to lose all control of myself. My hands grasped the back of her shoulders, pulled her in tight. I lifted my face into her neck, grimacing against the inevitable.
The soaring began. We both stiffened, our mouths agape, our backs arching away from each other. As the rapture swept from my loins into my entire body I saw and heard her wings suddenly open, thump, dazzling white. I felt her body go light as they beat once, desperately, spontaneously, and she cried out, a beautiful dragon sharing orgasm with its mate.
I was in jail, the day the dragons came.
A minor misdemeanour, I assure you. But it saved my life. Well, that and being gay.
At least, that’s my theory. While everyone else was being casually vaporised, I and Kit — the girl whose bed I’d only just sneaked into — were clamped, paralysed, to this floating contraption and left alone until they’d done. She screamed a lot, which irritated me. Personally I thought the whole business was pretty efficient.
I’m sure they could have done us all with a beam of light from the air, like everywhere else on the planet, rather than lasering the guards and prisoners one-by-one. So they were searching for something; and I think we were it. I don’t know if they found any of the other dykes in the place, I couldn’t see; but I’m guessing they did.
In any case, they had us in the bag when they left. They weren’t too gentle, but then they didn’t do us any harm either. They knocked out the squealer somehow — she must have been bugging them too — so she missed most of the journey. Not that there was much to see, besides the insides of various techno-pet-carriers.
It was pretty clear early on which was ‘our’ dragon. It kept looking in on us, and doing that weird mimicking thing that they do. I think it’s part of how they communicate. I pulled some faces at it, even gave it a full moon when I got bored — I was pretty freaked out when it responded by making the shape of my butt without turning around.
A couple of hours later we were left alone in a room, and I’m pretty sure we stayed in the same physical place after that. I say physical, because the room projected some kind of virtual reality simulation of what they know of Earth. The details were all wrong, and the virtual people really crummy, but it gave us something to do.
The dragon turned up occasionally, and kind of followed me around. It worked out early on that I didn’t want to be touched. First time I punched it squarely in the jaw, which hurt like hell. They’re built of something a lot harder than we are, at least while they’re staying the same shape. I was sure I’d broken a knuckle or two, but next morning there was no damage to speak of. Anyway, it came really close a few times even after that. Once when I woke up it was right there with me, and it reached out a claw really slowly. I told it to go to hell, and backed right away.
So, I’d been thinking we were pets. The whole fake environment thing. The health care. They even cleaned our clothes while we were asleep. But I was wrong.
Kit was getting really poorly. In the head, primarily. She just couldn’t cope. I tried to connect with her, but she was just getting more and more withdrawn. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough; or maybe I just didn’t have the resources to keep us both ticking.
Our familiar-but-strange surroundings got her down, but the dragon scared the hell out of her, and she didn’t get used to it. More like the opposite. Towards the end she would fly into hysterics just at the sight of it, and then fold up like one of those toys with the button in the base that loosens all the wires holding it up. When I worked out that the dragon was interested in me, I would stop trying to console her and just walk off, with the dragon following.
But one day, that didn’t work. When I turned away, I heard the dragon unfurl its wings behind me. It thudded into the air with a single wingbeat, glided over my head, and returned gently to the ground in front of me. And when I tried to go around it, it headed me off.
I should probably have just tried to hold Kit, be all protective and motherly. But instead I went nuts, shouting at the dragon — ineffectually, of course.
That’s when it changed.
One second it was the usual skinless winged humanoid, exoskeleton plates over a freaky open structure of individual grey muscles and organs. The next: its armour went all gloopy, like when it mimics expressions, but this time all over its body; and then something like a woman was standing there.
Well, a woman with wings. I guess it couldn’t lose them completely, and there was nowhere for them to go in a human body. It had tried to make them feathery, at least; maybe because they knew about birds on Earth. Anyway, like the fake humans that wandered aimlessly through our environment, many of its features were wrong. Its eyes especially: they stayed the same, empty glass orbs with dark silver inside. But for some reason I fixated on the thing’s tits. They looked like the crappiest boob job you could imagine: spherical and rigid.
But they had the weirdest effect on me. Don’t judge: you’ve never even met a frikkin alien, have you? Anyway I was basically looking at some kind of naked porn-star angel, and I hadn’t had any in weeks, and it was obviously making an effort, and, well, I thought it was pretty sexy.
Kit must have looked up, because she started screaming fit to burst. This obviously wasn’t in the dragon’s plans, because it started to lose focus. Gaps appeared in its skin, at the edges of its armour plates. Its mouth opened a little, showing the tips of its rows of silver shark teeth. I don’t have to tell you that Kit just lost it completely at the sight of that.
I don’t have a heart of stone so I went berserk myself, only with anger. I was screaming and shoving at the dragon, telling it to leave us alone. They’re not much heavier than we are, and I succeeded in making it over-balance; it flapped like a surprised bird and landed a couple of paces further away, its body mostly changed back, but still the colour of human skin. When I went after it, though, it lifted fully into the air, negligently knocking me flat with its shins as it passed over. Then it was gone, disappearing into the wall as if it was thin air.
I swore a few times, clutching at my bruised shoulder, wincing at Kit’s undiminished volume. I had no choice but to try and bring her back; so I went over and said a few nothings. But I was wondering what the dragon’s next move would be.
I was right to wonder; but I never could have guessed the answer. At the time, the room had been ‘showing’ the inside of a house, perhaps modelled on some nondescript suburb. Shortly after the dragon exited, however, the scene changed to a kind of bar. It was dark and empty at first. Kit and I were on the black floor between some not-quite-right barstools.
I mostly ignored the sudden switch (it wasn’t the first time the channel had been changed on us), and Kit was curled fœtally, sobbing, so I doubt if she noticed right away. But then the unexpected sounds of human exertion and emotion made me look up to see what was playing on the several large screens above the bar.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. It was pornography. Pretty tame stuff, and all lesbian: lots of making out and licking and faked excitement. They must have got it from Earth, because it was definitely video of real people. Of course, I wasn’t exactly in the mood, so I just shrugged to myself and tried to keep Kit from paying attention and freaking out again.
But clearly, the dragon was trying to tell us something. The bar started filling, with naked imitation women. Some of them tried to mimic what was being shown on the screens. It was all laughably inept, but the sheer quantity of it made me feel really strange: kind of turned on, kind of amused, but also quite threatened. Kit was staring around by now like she was in a dream.
In the end, I figured we had to demonstrate to the dragons that we were not enjoying the show; so I dragged Kit to her feet and tried to head for an exit.
I might have known: there wasn’t one. Some of the manikin women reached out to us as we passed. That made me pretty nervous. I punched a couple that came too close; their heads snapped back at a weird angle and then came up again. More were beginning to crowd around: I was fixating on the way their skin hung on them like paper, the way their limbs didn’t seem to be attached properly.
I began to panic. Kit was limp in my arms, staring at me like she was catatonic. I was thinking we were going to get violated, and I was ready to go down fighting. But I guess the dragon had figured out about consent in sex, because things kind of levelled off at that point. The fake women were still doing their comical best to fuck each other, but they stopped short of trying to fuck us.
Once that became clear, I just held Kit as best I could and settled in to wait it all out.
I didn’t have to wait long. The scene switched back to the suburban house after only a few minutes, and the women and the pornography were gone. The dragon must have given up on whatever it was trying to achieve.
Kit gradually got control of herself. Or at least, I thought she did. Perhaps I missed some kind of new determination in her eyes. And when she turned to leave the room, catching my eye, I was too relieved at her recovery to notice any other significance in her glance.
I didn’t see her again for months.
After the first time we had sex, the dragon introduced me to her world.
Really, that was the way she should have gone about it all along. Frankly, if you want to fuck me, you’re going to need to be honest with me. But I guess they’re not as smart as their technology would suggest. (All right, I know. But that first time, I was totally desperate. I think she’s been straight with me since.)
I say ‘world’, but it turns out they are nomads. They live in and around a mix of space-faring vessels, all of them way too freaky to try and describe. Let’s just say that human ideas of spaceships are pretty laughably unimaginative by comparison. One reason for this is that the dragons are happy in vacuum, and none of their living spaces are pressurised with air. But another is that they liberally use the same technology as the room I lived in with Kit; and so you never really know whether what is around you is real or virtual.
They visit worlds to stock up on resources, and indulge in recreation: gas giants and frigid moonlets and everything in between. I once saw a group of them playing in the storms of a dying red star, chasing each other through arcs of fire like demon children in hell’s crèche.
A couple of times, they visited worlds with life on them (again, pretty weird stuff). But strangely, they didn’t indulge in the same casual genocide I’d seen when they did in humanity. That made me wonder: what had we done to piss them off so badly?
Now I know; and as the dragons leave the Earth for the second time, I discover they have changed me forever.
It shone so strikingly blue, that my heart skipped with recognition long before the familiar continents could be seen. I found myself suddenly aching for home, the longing made only more poignant by the knowledge that those beautiful lands and seas now belonged solely to nature.
But as we came into the planet’s shadow I saw filigree lights clustered around cities and coasts: humanity’s fragile denial of the night, so colourless and weak to nature’s glory, but so unmistakable. I turned to the dragon, an incredulous question on my lips; but she was still and silent. I had been convinced of humanity’s destruction. But now I recalled no context for my recollection, of sudden blinding lights in the sky, of cities wiped clean of life. Were my own memories as unreal as the environment I had lived in for those first weeks?
The harsh deceleration of planetary approach meant that we were inside her quarters, which were pressurised for my convenience. She had been increasingly withdrawn: we had not made love for a couple of days, and she had often been gone for hours — on errands, I presumed. But now the beginnings of a reason struck me, so bitter-sweet that my heart plunged even more than the descent could account for. Was I going home?
The ride was becoming choppy as heat glowed on the edges of the viewport. I had not fully identified the geography, but we seemed to be heading for a planet-fall close to one of the brightest cities. Gravity was grasping and tugging at me in between bumps; my heart swelled and raced. I stared at the dragon, whom I had not even given a name: so alien, yet now so familiar. How could I have loved such a creature? But oh! she was an angel, who had claimed me for a lover.
There was a moment of heaviness, then silence. The dragon turned, a door hissed, and I followed her out of the chamber, suddenly aware that I had never left that room before without the protection of a pressure suit. The air outside was warm and slightly moist, and smelled of a summer night.
A part of the floor (unusually, distinguished from ceiling) had opened to form a short ramp. At its end, a pool of light on a grassy meadow, fading into the blackness of night all around. But in the distance, the city flooded the sky with weak orange.
A part of the ship beside the dragon was moving and unfolding, its smooth, complex motion mesmerising but incomprehensible like most of the dragons’ technology. But in a few seconds it revealed a transparent cocoon, partially misted from within; and a blue light traced out an elliptical shape on its surface, which was then lifted away. The dragon reached inside, carefully gathering up a shape that crashed into my mind with such force that I cried out.
It was Kit. The dragon cradled her limp, naked form, and strode down the ramp to the grass. There, without ceremony but with gentle respect, she laid her down.
I’m not the sentimental sort, but I confess I was suddenly in floods of tears. I had been convinced of Kit’s suicide; now I was equally sure that the dragon had finally understood that she was not compatible with life among them, and was returning her home. I hurried to her side, wanting to see if she was alive or dead; but the dragon halted me with an outstretched arm, mercury muscle over iron, and then took a few steps back onto the ship.
I caught sight of a part of it re-configuring again: metal folded and peeled, and a narrow, complex form extruded to the surface. I recognised it, gasped in alarm. Memories of the jail swept into my mind; the weapon was aiming; at Kit.
I glanced at the dragon, desperate to see reason in her silver eyes, but my body felt paralysed. I was too late in any case: the weapon fired negligently, the iridescent trail of fire from its muzzle causing it to buck slightly in recoil. And beside me, Kit vanished.
I shouted out my anger, confusion and fear. But the weapon had swiveled slightly, and suddenly I found myself tensing automatically to flee. It fired before I could move; I was bathed in a flash of light; my instinctive bolt turned into a collapse onto the grass underfoot.
My mind was treacle. I was dead, it said. Vaporised, like Kit and everyone in the jail. And indeed I could not see my arms, which I knew were stretched out in front of me. But then what was I feeling with, thinking with?
I was just beginning to understand, and to see the implications, when the dragon completed her exposition. She reached up to touch the weapon, and I could see a blue-green distortion in the air spreading from it like an expanding bubble. Its light reached me, also reached the indentation in the grass where Kit had been; and she was back, unharmed, asleep — as I could now see from the gentle rising of her ribs. I lifted my hands, inspected my palms dumbly, incredulously.
I found my feet, slowly. The dragon was still now, standing at the top of the ramp into the ship. For a moment we simply regarded each other, lovers separated by light-years, but finally comprehending one another.
She flickered, changed from dragon to angel. I cringed at her beauty, my mind torn; and I glanced behind me to the grass and the dark woods nearby, and the glow of civilisation beyond.
When I looked back, she was turning away, her head bowed. I knew that my decision, once made, would be final.
