She pressed him back. The sofa groaned. Her wings spread wide, caging him in. Her tail wrapped around his waist, holding him flat. She straddled him, the hard length of her cock pressing against his stomach through their clothes. He arched, hand reaching up to touch her throat, the scales there cool under his fingers.
"Can I?" he asked.
"Always," she said.
He traced the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, the hard planes of her shoulders. His touch was reverent, but the dragon didn't care for reverence. It wanted friction. It wanted claim.
She lowered herself onto him.
The heat was immediate. The dragon purred, a sound that vibrated in the small room. Jules' hands gripped her hips, fingers digging in as she took him in. She was tight, wet, slick with her own arousal. He gasped, back arching off the cushions. "Elara—fuck—God."
She set the pace. Slow, deep, deliberate. The dragon wanted to fuck him hard, to pin him, to mark him. But Elara wanted to feel him respond. To watch his eyes darken, to hear his breath catch, to see the way his pupils dilated until they were nearly black. She leaned forward, wings wrapping around them both, tail tightening around his waist. She kissed him, deep and claiming, while her hips rolled, taking him deeper.
"Look at me," she murmured against his mouth.
He did. His eyes were wild, worshipful, terrified, delighted. "I'm here," he breathed. "I'm yours."
The dragon roared.
Elara picked up the pace. Her hips slammed against his, the sound wet and heavy, echoing in the small room. The tail tightened, not to choke, but to hold. The wings pressed down, caging them in a world of leather and heat and breath. Her cock slid inside him, thick and hot, hitting deep. He cried out, fingers digging into her arms. She leaned down, teeth grazing his collarbone.
"Mine," she growled.
"Yours," he gasped. "Always."
She bit him.
Not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to mark. To claim. The dragon flooded her with heat. Her cock swelled inside him, thicker, hotter, pulsing. Jules arched, back bowing, hands gripping her shoulders. She felt his climax building, a tight coil in his belly that threatened to spill over.
"Let go," she whispered against his neck. "I've got you."
He did.
His cock pulsed inside her, hot and thick, cum coating her shaft. His hips jerked, breath shuddering out of him. She rode through it, slow and deep, until he was trembling. Then she pulled out, cum spilling over her thigh. She didn't stop. She shifted, pressing him back again, taking him from behind. Her cock slid inside him again, deeper, angling differently. His hands gripped the sofa. Her tail wrapped around his thigh, pulling him back against her.
"Harder," he begged.
She gave it to him.
The dragon took over. Hips slamming. Breath ragged. Wings flaring. The room filled with the sound of skin on skin, of gasps and groans, of a scholar who had spent her life studying myths finally living inside one. She felt his second climax approaching, tighter, darker. She leaned forward, mouth finding his ear.
"Say it," she growled. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," he choked out. "Elara. I'm yours. All of me."
She came with a roar.