Chapter 11 - My SI Stash #11 - A Motherf_u_c_k_i_n_g Dragon by Cambrian Beckett (Game of Thrones) (2/2)
At the same time, my long tail, the longest appendage I have at this point, slides down into her lap. I'm sure she thinks it can't possibly be on purpose, but I still writhe my tail against her moistening c_u_n_t all the same. The sinuous appendage slides up and down and a surprised m_o_a_n of d_e_s_i_r_e slips free of Daenerys' perfect, full lips.
She's going to be beautiful as she finishes growing. I honestly can't wait. Though of course, there's only a small window in which I'll get to f_u_c_k her. I have to start conditioning her to accept these kinds of advances now, because once I'm too big to pin her down and take her, I'll have to depend on her to initiate contact herself.
Still, I can imagine it, in my mind's eye. I can see Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, stripping n_a_k_e_d and wrapping her lithe, beautiful body around my massive c_o_c_k, rubbing herself up against me and l_i_c_k_i_n_g my length in the same way I lick her t_i_t_s now. Yes, it will take some work… but I will make the last Targaryen my s_l_u_tty little dragon bitch. She can have the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. I'll gift them to her, all on my own if I have to. But I will have her… oh yes I will.
Her hands suddenly curl around me and it's clear that Daenerys has finally come out of the haze of p_l_e_a_s_u_r_e enough to realize this is wrong, even if she is enjoying it. For the first time, I growl, my small front claws clutching at her flesh and my tail lifting up, only to slap down with a sting across Daenerys' slit and c_l_i_t. The silver haired girl gasps in surprise and pain and looks down at me with wide, violet eyes. I don't pay her any mind though, instead I continue to nuzzle my head into her cleavage and tits.
She doesn't try to move me again. Honestly, she's lucky I'm not giving b_r_e_a_s_tfeeding a shot. F_u_c_k, she just had a kid right? Man, I'll try some other time. For now, need to start slow.
As time passes and Daenerys tries to hold back her intermittent o_r_g_a_s_ms, completely ineffectually, my brothers join us. She'll name them Viserion and Rhaegal, according to my foreknowledge. I've already looked at myself enough to realize I'm Drogon. Which is nice and right and proper. If I was going to be reborn a dragon, I f_u_c_k_i_n_g better be the largest of the three. Whether I'd let Drogon's animal mind, which I'd long since figured out was the alien brain that kept trying to wrest control of my actions from me, actually be as aggressive as he'd been in the canon, well, that was to be decided.
Regardless, I hogged our 'mother's' front and Viserion and Rhaegal were not nearly as lecherous as I was, so they did not try to fight me for the right to molest Daenerys. Instead, Viserion hiked his way up onto her shoulder and Rhaegal stuck to her back, winding back and forth to look at me with big eyes from either side of her.
Whenever he got too close, I hissed at him… and whenever our 'mother' tried to admonish me for the action, I gave her another smack across her c_l_i_t to remind her of just who was in charge here.
Still, all good things come to an end. The fires abated and it became far, far too cold for my tastes. Luckily, Daenerys remained nice and warm and delicious, even as she stood up and I had to cling to her to keep my place on her front. All three of us dragonlings stuck to her like glue as she walked forward, but I looked back behind me all the same to see what she was looking at.
Ah, there was the remnants of Dany's 'khalasar'. Most of them would be dead soon. Could I stop that? Would I? Eh, probably not. Though her handmaidens were certainly hot. And then… there was Jorah Mormont. I couldn't help but glare at the potential rival to my 'mother's' affections. I mean, intellectually I knew that Jorah never got f_u_c_k all anywhere with her, but he still l_u_s_ted after her just as I did.
It seemed my foreknowledge and my l_u_s_tful intentions were slipping into Drogon's bestial mind, because the dragonling that I was sharing brain matter with was immediately hostile of Jorah and it was hard for me to rein that in. Still, in the end I managed it, even as the two met in the middle of the burnt field.
”… Blood of my blood.”
Everyone follows suit. Those who have stuck around kneel before the woman who has brought dragons into this world for the first time in a hundred years. If I could, I would roar at this point. It's certainly what my bestial instincts tell me to do. I must declare myself ruler over this lot of kneeling humans. I must proclaim my magnificence!
Except, I know exactly how weak and pitiful my cry is at this point in time. Rather than open my jaws and embarrass myself, I content my instincts by sliding my tail one last time through Daenerys' puffy aroused p_u_s_s_y lips. To her credit, the beautiful young woman keeps her composure, though I feel her legs wobble for a second all the same.
I stop at that point. No reason to ruin her credibility by bringing her to o_r_g_a_s_m in front of the last people willing to follow her. Still, my dragon lips curl back to show rows of wicked teeth, as I direct a particularly triumphant look at Ser Jorah Mormont. He can't possibly understand what it meant, but that was fine. What mattered was that I knew what it meant.
Breaking eye contact with the exiled knight, I look out at the barest remnants of Drogo's khalasar… and at the wasteland beyond them. My lips pull back down as I lose any humor or amus_e_m_e_nt I'd felt.
Right… next was the trek to Qarth… through the red waste.
F_u_c_k me, this was NOT going to be fun…