The dragon’s den was labyrinthine and luminescent. Lichen set it aglow, a pale greenish purple that washed out the hunters’ skin when they looked at each other. They’d been set against a dragon-- an old beast, as the villagers told it, but recently moved into the foothills of their little hamlet and wholly unwelcome. They were sent to slay her, or make her leave-- either was acceptable, as long as she wasn’t the town’s problem anymore.
“You’d think she’d have better protections,” McCree drawled. He hitched his coat closer around himself; it was chilly in the cave. His breath would be steaming in front of him if he could see it more clearly right now. “At least a tripwire or something.”
“She may have some kind of undetectable charm laid on the place,” Hanzo said in a low tone. He looked around them cautiously, holding his bow at the ready in case of danger. “We still need to be careful.”
The room suddenly got hotter as they dipped down and down into the earth. Before they knew it they were upon a steaming hot room, pools of hot spring water bubbling in front of them. Candles added to the glow on the walls. And soaking in one of the baths was the dragon herself.
“Greetings,” she said amiably. Amusement was clear on her face, rather than alarm or anger. She flexed her claw-tipped fingers in a little wave. “Come to slay the beast?”
Hanzo nocked an arrow as she spoke, carefully lining up the shot while the dragon reclined in her pool.
“Afraid so, ma’am,” McCree said grimly, reaching for his gun.
“What a shame,” the dragon said sweetly. One second she was relaxing; the next she was next to the hunters, her torso glowing with the inner light of a molten pool of magma. McCree startled, but before he could complete his pull on his weapon-- or Hanzo his, for the dragon was still also in the pool-- the woman caressed McCree’s cheek, stroking one magma-warm finger along his jawline. “Truly a pity,” she said lightly. McCree stared, suddenly enraptured. His hand dropped from his holster, hanging by his side while he stared slack-jawed.
Hanzo was about to cry out-- to protest the clear thrall the human was under-- when a third dragon appeared, just as coy as the first. She slunk up to Hanzo’s side, nearly as tall as the demon despite his ogre’s height, and lay one cheek on his bare shoulder. She gazed up at him with a steady, glowing stare, and murmured something before pressing a smoldering kiss to his bare skin.
Before he could comprehend what was happening, the light from the candles and lichen winked out and Hanzo was alone.
Hanzo sunk to his knees, already feeling a fuzz pass over his brain. It was soft as cashmere, and nearly as sheer, sliding over his consciousness like a comfortable blanket. It shrouded him, making him fight the urge to yawn as he relaxed under the dragon’s gentle touch.
The room was still dark, though the glowing lichen was starting to light the room again. Rocks glowed a dim carnelian, as though holding back magma flow just around their edges. It bathed the room in a soft maroon glow, warmth radiating from the walls.
The dragon hadn’t left his side through the blink into the black and back. Indeed she’d only slid closer, stroking one smoldering hand down his back to settle in the smallest dip of his spine. Her hands burned through his clothes, singeing the fibers to blackened threads as she traced his skin with her clawed fingers.
Let me make you a deal,” the dragon drawled. “You please me, and I let you go. No strings attached, no traps to waylay you on our trip away from my lair.”
“You are in…no position to make deals…” Hanzo said groggily, though he leaned helplessly into her touch.
“But you are?” She smiled. “How kind of you. A different deal, then: you please me, and I cease my botherment of the meat-creatures who live in the valley below me, excepting the ones that harry me first. More acceptable?”
“What have you to gain?” Hanzo asked, now closing his eyes. He felt her fingers more intensely when he did so, his muscles quivering against their burning points on his side.
“A distraction,” she said plainly, the smile falling from her face. “Something new, a memory to tide me over until my next hibernation.”
Hanzo gasped as the dragon leaned in and nipped at his shoulder just over the burning kiss mark. “Then...I accept.”
“Excellent,” she said with satisfaction. “Now kneel.”
He did so happily, grateful for the opportunity to let his legs go as limp as they desired, to rest on his haunches and await his new mistress’s commands. Part of him knew this was not what he came here for, but the soft wave of compliance that washed over him let him know that that was not important; for now his desires were only made to match the dragon’s.
“Humans have named me Symmetra,” the dragon said sweetly. “Though if you truly do please me I may allow you to call me Satya, the name my mother gave me when I hatched.” She stroked Hanzo’s face, her fingers hot over his cold blue skin. She turned his head with one long-nailed finger until the point of her nail tipped his chin up to look at her.
“You have a lovely face,” the dragon said with some bitterness. “A pity that an ogre would be blessed with such beauty. That human you have with you isn’t half bad, either. Tell me-- what is your association?”
“We hunt together,” Hanzo found himself saying. “Rogue demons, beasts that have lost their minds.”
“And he does not betray you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow imperiously.
She smiled, syrupy-sweet. “How kind of him. Tell me, then, where do you get your pleasures? Not from him?”
Part of Hanzo was affronted. “I would not-- he would never-- no,” Hanzo stuttered, his words slurred.
“But you want to,” Symmetra said. Her voice was confident, her tone matter-of-fact. There was no question in it. “You want to feel his hands on your skin, roughing you up a bit?” She scratched as she said it, dragging her obsidian-tough nails down the exposed length of Hanzo’s torso.
“Yes,” he gasped, bowing his back into the pain.
She slunk closer, kneeling down until her glowing eyes were on his level. She pushed him backwards until his stomach muscles quivered with the effort of keeping himself upright. “You want to feel rapture in his mouth, the smallest death under his body.”
“Yes,” he cried once more, and let his back hit the floor. He panted as the colossal effort of holding himself up was dropped from his shoulders, splaying his arms on the hard stone floor around himself. His chest heaved with the urge to gather air in lungs that he did not need. The dragon’s touch lingered, hot where she had lain her hands on him, burning where she had pressed her lips. He flushed and writhed in muffled embarrassment as his cock filled in his pants.
“Good,” she said with satisfaction. “I will show you what you can have. How long has it been, demon? How long since you have lain with another?”
“Too long,” Hanzo admitted, shifting on the warming rock floor. His limbs felt like the densest of rocks, his torso like stone. “Long enough to forget its splendors.”
“Then I will remind you.”
The dragon knelt and slit his pants, up the seam from buttocks to groin, tidily pulling the fabric aside until his nethers were revealed.
“Are demons so different from humans that they do not need underclothes?” she asked mockingly. Hanzo grit his teeth against the brain fog and did not deem to give her an answer. Instead he gasped through his teeth when the dragon’s supernaturally hot hands pet his inner thighs, massaging against the grain of his body hair until she met the swell of his testicles, fat and needy under her influence. “Very good,” she said slyly, pressing into the soft mound and squeezing, her laughter like a tinkling bell when Hanzo inhaled sharply and let his legs fall to either side.
“On your knees,” she said sternly. The order was sudden, but it was firm, and so Hanzo lifted his thousand-ton rock body and flipped himself over, shaking with the effort of it. Every part of him burned, feeling like it was melting into so much warm honey. He was a rock in lava flow, falling to soft, malleable pieces under Symmetra’s touch. She ran her hands over him now, petting down his spine until she met the curve of his buttocks. He whimpered-- an unmanly sound-- and bowed his back, ashamed at chasing the touch.
“No need to worry,” Symmetra said sweetly, petting his back with one fine-clawed hand. “I’ll take very good care of you. Almost as good as your hunter.” She knelt behind him, her hands slipping over the knobs of his spine until it met the crease of his buttocks-- then slipped lower, to the damp, hot crevice of his taint. She hovered there with her warm hands, massaging gently while his cock plumped. She even stroked him once, laughing all the while, her eyes glinting in the dim light when he twitched in her hand and dripped single fat pearl of precum to the dusty floor.
Before he could ask what she meant, something hard and hot pressed at his entrance. He twitched away, knowing that those things usually required some sort of preparation. Had fantasized about it more than once, had worked a dry finger into his own hole imagining such things. It had never been enough-- certainly not for what the dragon seemed to have plans.
“Hush, pet, shh,” the dragon soothed him, petting his legs and stomach and she stroked the molten cock she held between her legs. It seemed an extension of her, but not of her own skin-- more like molten rock she’d shaped to her will, holding it steady and cool enough for Hanzo’s skin to tolerate-- if barely.
Hanzo lay back and arched his spine, luxuriating in the heat that radiated from the walls like a sauna. He still felt loose, hazily so, and if he reached far back in his imagination the hands stroking him became firmer, more calloused, the digits wider than the nimble fingers that breached him now. He cried out when they pressed against a bundle of nerves inside him, moaned when they prodded and curled insistently to repeat the reaction. By the time the molten cock finally slipped past his rim, stretching him open on its girth, he was loose-limbed and rock-hard, rocking back into the intrusion of his own free will. He didn’t question its slippery surface, didn’t think about what fueled it. All he knew and all he needed to know was that it reached every place inside himself he’d never been able to get to.
The dragon rocked into him slowly, relishing his moans and shaking limbs as he bent himself to her pleasure. She seemed to take little from it herself, though she let out pleased little sighs every now and again as she fucked into him. The toy-- for it was a toy, he felt now, some kind of false flesh-- rested against her pubic mound and rubbed against her just as she pleasured him. She seemed to draw something from his pleasurable captivity, thriving on the energy he displaced in his writhing. She licked her razor-sharp chops and chuckled when Hanzo whined weakly and came, splattering the rock floor with his seed.
“So that is what becomes of the big, bad demon,” she crooned, slowly pulling out of him. The cock melted back into her luminous core as he watched, panting. She rubbed herself once, slicking her fingers before reaching out to Hanzo’s face and opening his mouth to make him taste them. They burned like hot tea, but thick and viscous and coating his tongue. It was honey sweet and sour as vinegar, fire down his throat.
It made him docile. She petted his face, rested his head in her lap. Her tail curled around them. The world went hazy again as Hanzo lay there, resting in his own spend and ruined clothes. And as he lay there, the dragon turned his head one final time-- to stare across the cavern, still glowing red with the light of the magma veins inside it-- to see his partner sitting against the cave wall. He was wide-eyed, watching closely. He looked away as Hanzo met his eyes.
Another dragon stood with him, a carbon copy of the one Hanzo’s head rested on now. She whispered to the hunter, laughing with a vicious curl of her lips. She pressed a kiss to the hunter’s brow and straddled his lap. The last thing Hanzo saw was McCree reaching up to rest a hand on the opulent curve of her waist.