Sometimes, Lucy really wanted to tell every single one of her well-meaning but not-exactly-educated ladies in waiting on where they could stick their dragon ideas.
Dragons weren’t exactly well-known. Most people just experienced them as mysterious beings who lived in the mountains and occasionally came down to spit fire at people. Having one not only stationed in court but as good as married to the queen and her consort was... intimidating, for many.
It meant that there were a lot of rumors about them. And it was understandable, really.
But if Lucy had to deal with one more question regarding Flynn’s, well, anatomy, she was putting signs all over the castle informing everyone that when a dragon took on a human form, EVERYTHING was human. EVERYTHING. NORMAL. HUMAN. JUST WHAT YOU’D EXPECT FROM A HUMAN MALE. There were not two of them, there were no ridges, it was all. Just. Normal.
Well, and a rather pleasing size if you asked Lucy but she’d be the first to admit that for her ‘pleasing’ and ‘intimidating’ were synonyms.
“You know,” Flynn observed at one point, “sometimes I think you’re having sex with me out of spite.”
“I am not having sex with you out of spite,” Lucy replied.
“She’s being loud out of spite,” Wyatt added. “Ow! Lucy what the hell—”
So really, everything was fine and dandy and extremely enjoyable, thank you, no complaints, and if Flynn had an unusually high body temperature and sometimes took on an otherworldly growl and had a tendency to get distracted by sparkly and/or shiny objects in the room, it was no more than what many other couples had to deal with (Wyatt had taken to getting Flynn’s attention from far away by taking off a metal gauntlet and holding it up so the light caught it, causing Flynn to drop whatever he was doing in pursuit of finding The Shiny).
And then there was that... One Night.
Lucy had held her first official ball in order to celebrate her ascendency to the throne. She’d put it off as long as she could but after the proper mourning period for the king, and for her mother (she was not even going to pretend to be mourning Emma), it couldn’t be ignored any longer.
Personally, she didn’t think that she was anything all that special to be celebrated. There was still a lot of work to do, many of King Nicholas’s laws to be undone and reworked. And the court was as scheming as ever. But given that she had a) named a lowly knight as her consort and was b) openly sleeping with a dragon on top of said knight—sometimes literally, as Flynn liked to joke—she knew she had to make some concessions.
She’d chosen to wear a dress of dark red, thinking that it made her look intimidating and regal, the way that she wanted to look. It had gone well with her dark hair and eyes, and while she had made it just a little low cut on purpose (Wyatt’s slack jawed stare never got old), she hadn’t even thought about what the color might imply until she entered the great hall and saw Flynn’s reaction.
He looked like he wanted to devour her in the best way.
Lucy shivered but kept her face calm and placid. She’d grown used to hiding her emotions, growing up with Carol for a mother.
“What are you wearing?” Flynn growled, more than a little of his dragon voice starting to seep through.
“A dress,” Lucy replied. “I hear they’re all the rage nowadays.”
Flynn’s eyes flashed with telltale fire. “You’re wearing my scale colors,” he said, his voice sounding almost strangled. “And we have invited Queen Denise and other dragons to this celebration.”
“Yes?” Inviting the dragons to promote interspecies harmony was only fair.
“Lucy,” Flynn said, honestly looking like he might have a heart attack, “you might as well be waving a flag that says you’re my mate.”
“Well, I am your mate, aren’t I?” she asked, stepping a little closer.
“Yes, but—” Flynn seemed at a loss.
“Then what’s the big deal about it? Everyone already knows you’re ours and we’re yours.”
Flynn swallowed hard. “I’m not sure you know what that means to our kind. How—how important that is.”
“Is it as important as marriage for humans?” Lucy asked. Flynn could not be married to her or Wyatt given that he was a dragon, and because according to the laws of the land one couldn’t take more than one spouse. But that was how she thought of him—as her husband, just as much as Wyatt was.
Flynn’s jaw worked for a moment. “Yes,” he admitted at last. “Dragons are... private creatures. Solitary, usually. Mating is usually a private bond, done just between the two dragons, no witnesses. Dragons can mate and then sever the bond, all in privacy. To openly declare that you are a dragon’s mate is... it’s a declaration of... permanence.”
Well. This certainly wasn’t what she had been planning when she’d picked this dress out, but she couldn’t say she wasn’t happy with the result. Lucy held out her hands, which Flynn automatically took.
“In that case, perhaps you would like to help me find Wyatt so that you can introduce us properly to the dragons here,” she said. “I had him wear a suit to match my dress.”
“Jesus Christ, you two went to whisper in a corner?” Wyatt said, appearing as if she’d summoned him. “You’re leaving me to the wolves out there.”
Flynn looked like he wanted to drag them both somewhere private. Lucy just squeezed his hand. “Go on, Garcia. Lead us out.”
Wyatt looked a little confused, so Lucy leaned in as Flynn started leading the way. “We’re wearing his scale colors in public. Equivalent of dragon marriage.”
“I thought we already were married.”
“Don’t ask me.”
Flynn led them out into the crowd, and Lucy could immediately tell who the dragons-disguised-as-humans were because they were the ones who immediately all froze and went a little goggle-eyed.
Lucy raised her chin up. That’s right. She was Flynn’s mate and so was Wyatt and it was staying that way for the rest of her goddamn life.
The party went relatively well, if you ignored the way the dragons tended to stammer a bit around her.
“Is it really so odd that two humans would choose to willingly mate with a dragon?” Lucy asked Denise at one point.
Denise looked fondly over at her mate, the human queen Michelle, who was chatting with Wyatt. “It’s not just that, although it’s rare enough. Flynn’s known as a... bit of a hothead, in our community. After he lost Lorena and Iris he went off the deep end a little bit. Our kind are known for being... dignified, wise, emotionless.”
Flynn wouldn’t know ‘dignified’ or ‘emotionless’ if they hit him over the head.
“I’m glad he’s not like that,” Lucy replied. Her Flynn was a messy disaster who was sharp and sarcastic with other nobles but soft and warm with her and Wyatt, always teasing, his emotions be they happiness or anger plain on his face. She wouldn’t have him any other way.
Denise smiled at her. “I can tell. But I think most of them are wondering how he managed to land the two of you. Some of them might even have thought that you and Wyatt had him around only for his use in protecting the kingdom.”
Lucy felt a prick of possessive anger warm up her stomach. Flynn was perfect. She’d march over and kiss him right then if it wouldn’t have caused a huge scandal, if only to prove to the other dragons that she was with Flynn because she loved him, loved him fiercely and unconditionally.
“But given your little stunt tonight with your outfits, I doubt that will be much of a problem.” Denise’s eyes flashed with blue flame. “Was that intentional?”
“It wasn’t, but now I’m glad it was done. Flynn is my mate just as much as Wyatt is my husband. They’re both my consorts, even if only one of them can have it in name.”
Lucy looked over at Flynn, who had walked over to join Wyatt and Michelle and had apparently just said something that made Wyatt elbow him, blushing. Flynn caught Wyatt’s elbow and used it to pull him in, saying something low in Wyatt’s ear. Wyatt shoved at him playfully but said something in return with a wide smile on his face, unconsciously curling in Flynn’s side. Wyatt had spent his whole life protecting Lucy, especially once Emma came to court with murder in her eyes, not to mention it was his job as a knight to fight for the kingdom, and whether he would ever say it out loud or not, Lucy knew Wyatt loved that there was someone he could relax around, someone who would protect him the way he’d always had to protect everyone else.
She’d have them both right now if she could.
But there was the party to wrap up, and dignitaries and nobles and dragons to speak to, and overall being a queen was exhausting. By the time they were able to retire to bed Lucy thought she might sleep for a week.
Except for the way that Flynn was looking at her and Wyatt.
The moment they stepped into their bedchamber—the servants dismissed and told that the queen and her men could get out of their clothes on their own, thank you—Flynn grabbed her and hauled her to him, kissing her like it was all he’d been thinking about doing all night.
Lucy ran her hands over his chest, yanking at the buttons on his coat to try and get it off. His skin burned like fire but in the best way, the way that matched the heat quickly building inside of her.
Wyatt came up behind her, kissing along her neck, starting to undo the buttons on her dress—but Flynn shot out a hand and grabbed Wyatt’s wrist, stopping him.
“Do you have any idea what it was like?” he asked, pulling Wyatt in and kissing him as well. “To watch you two looking like that all night? Wearing my colors? Telling the whole world that you were mine?”
Lucy loved watching how Wyatt went pliant in Flynn’s arms, how he kissed back eagerly, pressing himself up against Flynn until Flynn had to get a little rough with him.
She understood now that Flynn didn’t want her to take her dress off, so she reached up under her skirts until she could undo the extra fabric that made it billow out and carefully hid her legs from view, shoving it all to the floor, taking the chemise off until she was only in the burgundy silk. The dress clung to her like this in a way that would be utterly scandalous in court, her curves simultaneously hidden and on display.
Wyatt succeeded it getting Flynn’s jacket off, at which point Flynn started walking Wyatt backwards towards Lucy and the bed. They were still kissing and so neither of them saw her at first, until Flynn pulled back, eyes bleeding red, and then he caught sight of her.
Lucy smiled, sliding her hands over her curves, her breasts, her stomach. “You did seem to want me to keep the dress on.”
She could have sworn she saw the faintest bit of smoke curling out of Flynn’s mouth as he stared at her for a moment before pressing her down into the bed, kissing along the soft skin of her chest and throat that was now almost completely exposed with the chemise gone.
She started undoing Flynn’s pants, gasping and arching as he sucked at her nipple through the thin fabric of the dress. She might have been imagining it just then, but she almost thought she felt the prick of—fangs?
Flynn’s teeth, as a dragon, where purely carnivorous. Pointed, serrated, deadly in every sense. One of his teeth was the size of her hand. But as a human his teeth were just like everybody else’s.
She had to have been imagining it.
Flynn pulled back as Wyatt crawled over to him, having stripped at some point, lightly holding onto Flynn’s shoulders so that he could kiss along them, making Flynn rumble low in his chest.
Lucy spread her legs apart, shivering as Flynn slid his hands underneath her dress, dancing his fingers up her thighs. Oh, fuck yes, she was already getting wet just thinking about—
The only light was from the moonlight shining through the large tower window, since with Flynn’s warmth they didn’t need a fire, so maybe it was as trick of the light but it almost looked as though...
And then Wyatt pulled back with a “whoa.”
Flynn looked at him. “Everything okay, rasvim?”
Dragons had their own language, a rough and ancient one, that always sounded awkward in the mouth of a human but somehow rolled deep and powerful out of Flynn’s mouth. It had taken a while before Flynn would admit just what the meaning of certain words were—namely the words he would call her and Wyatt. Rasvim meant ‘treasure’ and was apparently a common endearment among dragon kind for mates and hatchlings.
Wyatt tapped lightly on Flynn’s shoulder—where there would normally be skin but was now...
“Scales,” Lucy blurted out. “Flynn, you’ve got scales.”
A patch of burgundy scales now ran over Flynn’s shoulder and down his chest. Lucy knew that Flynn could partially transform, but she’d thought it took him concentration.
Apparently, not all the time.
“Ah.” Flynn actually looked... nervous. “Sorry, I won’t—I’ll fix that.”
The scales started to disappear, and Lucy surprised herself by sitting up and saying, “No!”
Flynn paused. “...no?”
“I mean... I just...” Lucy looked over at Wyatt for assistance.
Wyatt’s gaze roamed over Flynn, taking in the patches of dark red scales mixed in with the skin.
Then he bent down and very deliberately kissed Flynn’s shoulder where the scales were.
Lucy grinned, sliding her hand into Flynn’s hair and pulling him down so that she could kiss him, her other hand roaming over his chest, feeling the strange transition from skin to scale and back again. The scales were smooth and warm to the touch, and while she definitely wasn’t going to ask Flynn to fully transform any day soon (that would be a little hard for even her adventurous determination to deal with) this little quirk was the opposite of unwanted.
“If I’d known you had a thing for it,” Flynn rumbled against her mouth, amused, “I would’ve let go a long time ago.”
“Mmm, let go?” Lucy pulled him into the middle of the bed, spreading her legs so that he was cradled between them. She could feel the hard, hot length of him through the fabric of her dress and she wanted him so, so badly.
Flynn got occupied kissing Wyatt for a minute, but then he answered, “When I’m... transforming requires a strong emotion. Like anger.”
He had told her how he had killed her grandfather. “So you focused on your anger, for that.”
Flynn nodded, a little preoccupied as Wyatt got more adventurous and sucked on the scales, making Flynn shudder. “During every day, routine, it can be difficult. But when I’m here...” He got his hand between Wyatt’s legs and Wyatt immediately whined, burying his face into Flynn’s neck, clawing at Flynn’s back and chest. “It’s... it’s a bit of work to stop some of my true form peeking out.”
“But normally you manage it.”
Flynn gave Wyatt a squeeze and Wyatt groaned. Flynn kissed him and then turned burning eyes onto Lucy. “Tonight isn’t normal.”
It clicked and Lucy grinned at him. “Why, Garcia Flynn, are you saying we drove you a little crazy? And all it took was wearing red? I’d have worn this a long time ago if I’d—”
He kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth, stealing her breath away. His kiss was like fire and Lucy gasped into it, bucking her hips up, wanting him to consume her.
Flynn pulled away, smirking at the undoubtedly overwhelmed look on her face. “Athear.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Lucy replied, smiling helplessly. Flynn was rather... awkward with his words in English but in Draconic, he had no problem with piling endearments on the both of them. It had taken her a while to get used to being called things like angel and my treasure regularly, but now it just warmed her chest, another sign of Flynn’s love.
Flynn kissed Wyatt again and Lucy moved back until she was resting properly against the cushions. Flynn growled when he noticed she’d moved out of his reach, but Lucy shook her head when he reached for her.
“Go on,” she ordered, feeling every inch a queen. “I want to watch.”
Flynn grinned savagely at her, his eyes all dragon now, glowing golden. Then he turned back to Wyatt, hauling him into his lap, the two of them running their hands all over each other.
Wyatt was clearly enjoying this, shuddering in Flynn’s arms as Flynn got his hands around Wyatt’s hips and started guiding Wyatt’s thrusts, running his hands over the scales and grinning breathlessly into Flynn’s mouth when it made Flynn growl.
Lucy shoved her skirts up out of the way, touching her breasts through the fabric and starting to slide her fingers through her folds, touching herself lightly. “You like this,” she noted to Flynn. “Does it make you more sensitive?”
Wyatt bit down on the patch of scales at Flynn’s neck and Flynn’s hips jolted and, well, that answered that question.
Lucy twisted a finger inside of herself, biting down on her lip as she watched Wyatt start to lose control, Flynn sliding a hand back down between them to stroke Wyatt’s cock until Wyatt was resting his forehead on Flynn’s shoulder and panting, eyelids fluttering. His nails dug into Flynn’s scales and Lucy added a second finger, panting a little herself as she started to rock her hips.
“Go ahead,” Flynn growled in Wyatt’s ear. Wyatt was always a sucker for Flynn talking dirty but Flynn’s voice was unnaturally deep now, his dragon voice, and Lucy felt another shiver run through her. “Xyr rasvim, go ahead, let me feel you.”
Wyatt clawed at him desperately, letting out a helpless moan as he jolted and came, staining both his and Flynn’s chest with it.
Flynn kissed all over Wyatt’s face, murmuring soothing praises, xyr isk, xyr rasvim, vorel, as Wyatt slowly came down from his high, running his hands along Flynn like he couldn’t stop touching the scales, staring a little slack-jawed at Flynn’s golden eyes.
Lucy let out a little whine, corkscrewing her fingers in and out. “Garcia,” she gasped out. “Garcia, come here.”
Wyatt moved to the side, stretching out by Lucy and running his hand through her hair as Flynn crawled over to her, settling between her legs again.
Lucy hitched her leg around his waist, letting him get his knee over her other hip. “Pin me down,” she ordered.
Flynn looked at her for a moment, then took her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them over her head. For a moment, shrouded in darkness and half-lit by moonlight, with the scales and the golden eyes, he really did look like the dangerous creature everyone feared he was, the feral animal who tore down castles and killed kings.
Lucy arched against him, feeling him right close to where she wanted him, right in the crease of her hip. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Go on, Garcia.”
Flynn ran his free hand gently over her curves, his eyes running over her body still encased in the dress. “You look like mine,” he whispered, his voice awed and reverent, his eyes gleaming gold. “You both looked like mine tonight.”
“We were always yours,” Wyatt said, his voice still a little hoarse. He kissed Flynn’s shoulder and Flynn turned his head to gently bump their foreheads together for a moment before turning back to Lucy.
She smiled up at him. “Always.”
“I know.” Flynn bowed his head to scrape his teeth over her jaw as he slowly began to enter her. Lucy made a helpless ungh sound as she felt that familiar burn and stretch. “But—in front of everyone like that—”
Lucy thought she knew what he meant. It was one thing to say I love you, we belong together in the safety of the bedroom. It was another thing to have it be silent, understood, shown through gestures and actions in public. And it was yet another thing to declare it to the world.
“We’ll wear it every day,” she whispered, rolling her hips. Wyatt lifted her up considerately and slid a pillow underneath her lower back, changing the angle and making her cry out.
Wyatt grinned at her mischievously.
“Every day,” Lucy repeated. “If you want us to.”
Flynn growled, starting to roll his hips into her. “Xyr miirik, just hearing you say that’s enough.”
Lucy growled in her own turn. “Then fuck. Me.”
The corner of Flynn’s mouth flickered upward in an amused smirk. “Since you command it, my queen.”
Wyatt snorted in laughter at the sass, but Lucy didn’t even have time to snark back at him because Flynn started moving, fucking her hard and fast the way she wanted, keeping that grip on her wrists. Lucy had always been a little loud, which had been a problem when she’d been a princess who—on her rare forays into sexual relations—had to keep it quiet.
But now she was a queen and could sleep with whomever she pleased, so she saw no reason to keep her voice down. Flynn and Wyatt certainly seemed to enjoy it, and Flynn buried his face in her neck as he thrust into her, a constant growl emanating from his chest. Wyatt bent over him, tonguing the scales on his back, running his hand down Flynn’s spine, driving Flynn even crazier.
“Xyr isk,” Flynn growled in her ear. “Vorel, xyr isk.”
She knew the sentiment if not the words, and the tone in which they were said, the deep forceful growl, only made her shudder and strain against his hold, loving the burning feeling of being held down, of being taken, that edge of danger even as she knew he was only doing it because she had told him to.
Lucy could feel Flynn’s unnaturally hot breath on her neck, hear and feel the vibration of his growls, his tongue darting out to scrape along her neck and it wasn't his usual tongue, it was long and rough and forked and oh God she wanted that between her legs next time, she could see the scales all over him and fuck, she hadn’t fallen for him out of any weird fetish but fuck if it all wasn’t driving her insane and she came so hard she thought she saw sparks.
She tightened around Flynn and he let out a final growl, biting down hard on her shoulder, and she wasn’t imagining the prick of fangs this time—nor did she think she was imagining the upward furl of wings, there and gone in the space of Flynn’s climax.
They all lay there afterwards, a tangle of limbs, Wyatt idly kissing along Flynn’s scales and skin. Lucy just rested her head on his shoulder, basking in his warmth, loving that one of her husbands was basically a walking personal heater.
“Question,” Wyatt said after a while. “Your tail.”
Flynn cracked open an eye, which was back to its usual dark unfathomable color. “What about it.”
Wyatt blushed, and Flynn let out an amused groan. “Next time, Logan, now lie your ass down and go to sleep.”
Lucy closed her eyes, felt Wyatt settle against Flynn’s other side, his arm stretching across to tangle his hand with hers, and fell gently into sleep.
It wasn’t until morning that any of them noticed that at some point, Flynn had burned the bed curtains.
Translation of Draconic:
vorel = beautiful
athear = celestial/angel
miirik = song
isk = star
xyr = mine/my
...yes Flynn is a sap. What else is new.
Yes, I'm writing more of these. I've got a first class ticket to Hell, pull up a chair and join me.
Lucy started out subtle.
Flynn didn’t seem to know what the hell to make of the fact that Lucy and Wyatt were not just accepting of the occasional draconic trait but were outright enthusiastic about it, and whenever he did partially transform in bed, scales emerging from the skin, his eyes flashing burgundy or gold, his instinct was always to tuck it back in.
Often, Lucy would respond by enthusiastically embracing whatever it was—running her tongue along the scales, telling him his eyes looked pretty—and Wyatt did the same. Wyatt wasn’t as vocal but he had a habit of biting down hard on the patch of scales that appeared on Flynn’s shoulder, and the way he shivered when Flynn growled at him in his deeper dragon voice couldn’t really be misinterpreted.
Flynn stopped trying to transform back less, but he still wasn’t taking the hint that Lucy wanted him to take: namely, that he could afford to get a little more draconic with her.
And so she decided that subtlety could go fuck itself.
She didn’t plan anything, didn’t come out and say it, because she didn’t want Flynn to have a heart attack. Instead, she just waited for… the right opportunity.
They’d long ago given up on having a proper bed, since Flynn tended to transform into a full dragon while he slept. It was about a fifty-fifty chance of it happening, but that was enough for beds to, well, get broken, and so now there was just this amazingly fluffy pile of furs and pillows in the middle of the room that Lucy and Wyatt were happy to sleep on. It was best in winter, when they had the fireplace roaring and could scoot the furs right in front of it, since even dragons get cold, and could just all sleep together in a lazy pile of limbs.
Flynn had her pressed down into those furs at the moment, their clothes forgotten in a pile somewhere, and Lucy was very happy with the feeling of his weight between her thighs and his warm—unnaturally warm—skin under her palms.
They were kissing, and one moment the tongue in her mouth was, well, a human tongue, and the next moment—it really wasn’t.
Flynn started to pull away, and probably to offer an apology, but Lucy had figured that might happen and slid her hands up to his face, holding him so he couldn’t leave, and kept kissing him.
For a moment Flynn was utterly still, but then he started to kiss her back again. Lucy shivered. Flynn’s dragon tongue was much longer and stronger than his human one and she couldn’t help but want…
She pulled back, her hand sliding into Flynn’s hair, tugging lightly and then pushing him down between her legs. Flynn went easily, the way he always did, but his eyes—eyes that were starting to go from their usual dark to dragon red—searched her face carefully.
“Lucy,” he asked, and the word came out deep and guttural, his forked tongue peeking out momentarily from between his lips.
She nodded, spreading her legs a little further. “Yes.”
Flynn lowered his head, nosing between her slick folds. Even just knowing what was coming made her breath catch.
His tongue darted out, fast and teasing, just flicking along her clit before moving on and Lucy tightened her grip on his hair, drawing a knee up. “Garcia…”
Flynn worked his tongue inside of her and oh. Oh.
Lucy had tried not to bombard him with questions regarding what it was like to be a dragon, but she’d seen him in his true form. Usually when he was napping or trying to intimidate someone who was being rude to Lucy or Wyatt. And so she’d seen how, with his paws only being so dexterous, Flynn would use his tongue to do things like grab bits of food. And so she knew that his tongue was longer, stronger, and more… nimble than that of a human.
And oh, dear God, was her theory about how that would feel between her legs being proven right.
Her stomach tightened and then melted into that perfect molten lava feeling as Flynn twisted his tongue inside of her. He slid it in and out a few times, then went for her clit again. His dragon tongue was a little rough, almost like a cat’s, and Lucy arched her back as she shuddered. Oh—oh she wasn’t going to last long at all—
Flynn kept at that for a few minutes, alternating between licking through her folds and her clit and darting his tongue inside of her, and it was as good as she’d thought it would be, and she was shaking and sighing and probably yanking way too hard on his hair but Flynn just hummed and didn’t seem to mind and then he sealed his mouth over her and sucked and oh oh oh…
She gasped through her orgasm, her hips twitching helplessly, shivering and helpless in the most wonderful of ways. Flynn looked up at her, still between her legs, his eyes dark and amused.
“I think that’s a record,” he noted.
Lucy unclenched her fingers from his hair and brought her hand down to cup his face. “So… when I tell you that you don’t have to hold it in… I really, really mean it.”
Flynn turned his face to kiss her palm. “I believe you.”
Then he put his hands on her thighs and tugged them a little farther open. “What are you doing?”
He looked up at her again. “Oh, you thought we were done?” His grin was sin itself. “Not by a long shot, athear.”
Lucy draped her leg over his shoulder. Well, then. Never let it be said that Lucy was foolish enough to deny a dragon what he wanted.
When visitors to her kingdom asked Queen Lucy what her favorite place in the castle was, she always gave them a diplomatic answer such as, “the gardens, where my sister and I used to play,” or “the stables, where my darling horse is.”
But the truth was, her favorite place was in bed, in front of the fire, with Wyatt and Flynn dozing alongside her.
Or, well, Flynn was dozing. Wyatt was counting the scales running up Flynn’s spine and pretending that he wasn’t. More and more often Flynn was taking to relaxing around them and not having such tight control over his body, and often he’d be lounging around with random patches of scales showing.
“Garcia?” she asked.
Dragons didn’t actually have last names, although they would sometimes add the name of their mother or father when introducing themselves to other dragons for context purposes. Flynn had been the name that her mate had taken up when he needed to prepare to pass himself off as a noble in her grandfather’s court. It was still the name he was known by among most humans. But his actual name, and the one she and Wyatt called him in private, was Garcia.
He blinked one eye open at her. “What is it?”
“How much control do you have when you transform?” Lucy asked.
Flynn raised an eyebrow at her, and then looked over at Wyatt.
“Don’t look at me,” Wyatt said. “I don’t care.”
“You know I can smell when you’re lying, right?” Flynn replied.
“Back to my question,” Lucy said, crawling over and plopping down on Flynn’s chest so that he had to look her in the eye. “How much control do you have over what parts of your body transform? I mean, I know you have control when you choose to… focus on your emotions and make something happen,” Lucy went on. “But what about when you’re feeling a strong emotion and you just want to transform. Can you pick what changes?”
Flynn turned over onto his back, nearly knocking Wyatt over. Flynn chuckled as Wyatt flailed and caught Wyatt’s wrist, tugging him in and tucking Wyatt into his side. Wyatt grumbled but settled in, his head on Flynn’s shoulder.
“Yes and no,” Flynn replied, his hand running idly up and down Wyatt’s side. “The scales and the eyes… not so much. Wings, no. Tongue, no. But everything else only comes out if I choose for it to. The patches of scales just happen, but if I wanted to make everything scaled, I’d need to actually let that happen, it won’t happen automatically. Being in an emotion like… like lust, or like love, when I’m—it also depends on what I’m trying to do, I guess is what I’m saying. If one of you were in danger, I would probably get the fire breathing and claws before anything else, because those are the first two weapons I have that would protect you. But when it’s because I’m in bed with you, the things that automatically change are things that will… supposedly enhance things for us.”
Lucy grinned. “Your dragon side is trying to make the sex better.”
“If you want to put it that way, sure,” Flynn said dryly as Wyatt snorted.
“Sooooooo…” Lucy wheedled. “Why is it that your dick’s stayed human?”
Wyatt made a sound like he was choking, sat up, and proceeded to have a coughing fit.
“I don’t even need to have special dragon smelling powers to know that you’re curious,” Lucy told him.
Wyatt flipped her off, still coughing.
Flynn stared up at her. “Are you—what? You—you’re serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking to you?”
“…no…” Flynn still looked very confused, like one of them was going to turn around and assure him this was some kind of weird prank.
“Do you think that it’s wrong or weird?” Lucy asked. She didn’t want to violate any dragon taboos or something.
“No, it’s just that you’re human,” Flynn replied. “I’m surprised that you see any appeal in it.”
“Trust me, every day I ask myself why I see any appeal in it too,” Wyatt said dryly, finally over his coughing fit.
“It’s just surprising,” Flynn said, flicking Wyatt’s nose.
“Ow!” Wyatt glared at him, rubbing his face. “If I could explain it I would.”
“It’s sexy,” Lucy said. “And if I like when other parts of you are… draconic, then I think I’d like it if other things were as well.”
Flynn looked at her for a long moment, then said, “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with how you like it when Wyatt or I add our fingers in alongside when we’re fucking you?”
“It might have something to do with that,” Lucy replied archly, refusing to be teased.
She leaned in, kissing Flynn’s forehead, between his brows, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “Please, Garcia? I want to see, I want to try.”
Flynn rolled his eyes at her, but so far he hadn’t been able to deny her anything she’d asked of him, and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon.
“You can’t tell me you don’t want to try it,” Lucy added.
Flynn flushed a little. “I—it’s not that I don’t want—of course I want it,” he said, his voice strangled. “But you’re human, Lucy. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She kissed him again. “You won’t.” She’d tell him if that happened, and he would stop. She knew he would.
Flynn stared up at her, and then his eyes flashed red, and she heard Wyatt let out a strangled kind of whimper-squeak noise.
Lucy turned, saw where Wyatt was looking, and promptly looked as well.
Oh, fuck yes. Other people might disagree but… she thought Flynn’s cock was perfect.
It started out as thick enough at the base, but then got wider about halfway down, swelling thick and wide—wide enough to make Lucy start to wonder if she hadn’t been a little too ambitious—before tapering at the end. It wasn’t longer than average, but had what looked like ridges, sort of like an imitation of Flynn’s scales, running along the underside and the top, although the head itself was almost flat, and smooth, reminding her almost of the underside of a tongue. It wasn’t quite pointed—that is, it didn’t look sharp—but it was decidedly not the rounded head she was used to.
None of it was like she was used to.
Which really should not have been making her mouth water but, hey, Lucy could admit to herself that her tastes were running far more exotic than she’d previously given herself credit for.
God, she wanted that inside of her.
She turned, promptly straddled Flynn, and kissed him. Nothing shy, either, she slid her tongue right in and kissed him as deeply as she could.
“You realize we had sex an hour ago,” Flynn noted dryly as she pulled back.
“That was an hour ago,” Lucy replied. “I want you inside me.”
Flynn stared at her for a moment, then growled, pushing himself up to kiss her all over. He gathered her up into his lap, his arms wrapped around her, and Lucy eagerly pressed herself up against him. She would never get tired of his warmth.
“Wyatt?” Flynn said, suddenly pulling back.
Flynn carefully turned Lucy over, kissing the hollow of her throat. “Keep an eye on her. You see any sign of pain, you tell me.”
“Got it.” Wyatt would have rather died than let Lucy get so much as a paper cut.
“I’ll tell you if it hurts,” Lucy groused.
Flynn kissed her on the cheek. “No offense, rasvim, but you wouldn’t.”
Sometimes Lucy hated how well they knew her.
Flynn kissed slowly down her body, spending a fair amount of time on her breasts before moving down to lightly bite at her thigh, smirking at her when Lucy glared at him to get on with it. Not that she minded being adored, or that Flynn (and Wyatt) were so appreciative of her body, but Flynn knew what she wanted and he was being deliberately slow.
Wyatt laughed and kissed along her shoulder. “You’re impossible,” he said fondly.
Lucy would have replied saying how impossible Wyatt was but then Flynn sealed his mouth over her clit and she really couldn’t have formed words anymore.
Flynn slid a couple of fingers inside, easily able to work her open again after the sex from before. It wasn’t that Lucy didn’t enjoy getting fucked by Flynn in his human form, or by Wyatt, for that matter. But sometimes she just wanted to feel stretched, like she was really being taken and pushed to her limit.
She indulged in kissing Wyatt as Flynn fucked her open with his mouth and fingers, shivering pleasantly—not being pushed towards orgasm just yet but floating in that middle happy place of being turned on without being desperate for more.
Flynn pulled back, apparently satisfied, and braced himself carefully over her. “You sure about this?”
Lucy nodded, spreading her legs. “Yes.”
Flynn gave a sigh like okay we’ll see how this goes and got his hands under her thighs, slowly, slowly entering her.
Ohhhhkay. This was—this was like—she had to force herself to remember how to breathe.
Lucy shivered violently—it was like she couldn’t stop shivering. She could feel every inch of him inside of her, and it wasn’t like normally she couldn’t but it was new, and her body was clearly going into overdrive trying to understand and adjust. She felt stretched and filled to the point where she could almost feel it in the back of her throat, and every time she so much as breathed she could feel the ridges pressing up against her, shifting slightly, sending sparks through her and she tightened instinctively.
Flynn shuddered in response and it made Lucy gasp. Oh, oh fuck. She might never recover from this but it was so going to be worth it.
“You okay?” Flynn asked, apparently taking her noise for pain.
Lucy nodded, kissing the patch of scales on his shoulder to further reassure him. “I’m—I’m good, so good, so very good.”
Flynn shifted a little and she mewled, digging her nails in. Oh holy—she couldn’t do this every day but she apparently had at least one spot she hadn’t known about before that was currently getting stimulated and she was definitely getting fucked this way a couple times a month from now on.
“Move,” she gasped out. “Please, Garcia—”
Flynn propped himself up a little and Lucy almost sobbed. She wanted him to move so badly, it was just a tease right now with him stretching her open and making her body jolt with his little movements…
“You really want this,” Flynn said, and he sounded still a little confused but mostly awed, and with a tinge of that growl that told her he was turned on.
Lucy glared at him. “No, I just begged you to fuck me this way because I lost a bet with Wyatt. Yes I really want this, I want my mate to fuck me.”
Flynn gave an involuntary growl and flexed his hips, giving a little thrust, and Lucy thought she might choke.
“Well…” Flynn said, drawing out the word, and whatever confusion and surprise had been in his eyes before was now gone, “Lucky for you I like giving you what you want.”
“To the surprise of no one,” Wyatt added, grinning at Flynn.
Flynn arched an eyebrow at him as if to say like you’re any better, but Lucy had had quite enough of delays, thanks, and rolled her hips to try and get some kind of rhythm going herself.
Flynn groaned in surprise, his eyes flashing with red and gold, and Lucy had the sudden thought that this might be what being struck by lightning felt like. Then he got a hand underneath her leg, hitching it up, and started thrusting.
Lucy decided that if she died like this it was just fine by her.
She was also pretty sure that Flynn’s back was rapidly being scarred with the long, deep scratches from her nails but she didn’t care. It felt like she couldn’t even see anymore, all her senses gone except for the ones telling her where Flynn was thrusting inside of her, slowly and shallowly to begin with but quickly getting harder and deeper as she urged him on.
She couldn’t stop making noise. It was like the sounds were being punched out of her. She was shivering and shaking, the drag of his cock inside of her, the wide stretch of it, making her practically scream.
Part of her was dimly aware that Wyatt was around somewhere, keeping an eye on things. Someone besides Flynn was gently brushing her hair out of her face, and she wasn’t the one tonguing the scales on Flynn’s shoulder. She was also dimly aware that Flynn was keeping up a constant low growl, something he probably didn’t even realize he was doing. But mostly she wasn’t aware of anything at all other than what was inside of her, driving her mad.
She didn’t so much fall as get shoved over the edge, and then it just—kept—going. When Flynn got close and started to thrust faster, more erratically, Lucy could have sworn that her body became liquid. Some kind of sound escaped her that she didn’t even think could have come from her throat, it felt like it was just not there one minute and splitting the air the next, and she could feel, literally feel a kind of ripple go through Flynn’s cock the moment before he started to come inside of her and everything sort of became white noise after that.
“Holy shit,” was the first thing she heard however many minutes later.
Then someone was snapping their fingers in front of her face. “Lucy?”
She opened her eyes blearily to find Wyatt peering at her. “You sort of passed out,” he explained.
Lucy rolled her head to the side to see a very panicked looking Flynn also staring at her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He was fully human again, eyes wide in concern.
Her mouth was unusually difficult to move. Her whole body felt heavy. “Fantastic.”
Flynn and Wyatt both slumped in relief.
Lucy frowned. “I was like.” Words were difficult. “Orgasming for—a long time. Wow. It was. We’re doing this again.”
“Hopefully you won’t pass out and scare the shit out of us next time,” Wyatt grumbled, but his voice was fond and his eyes wouldn’t stop roaming over her, double checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt.
“You’ve got to try it,” she told him. “You’ll—you’ll really love it.”
“…I’ll think about it,” Wyatt replied.
Flynn curled up on her other side, touching her very, very softly. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“You didn’t hurt me,” Lucy promised. She reached up, running her fingers down his cheek. “You didn’t, I promise. I really, really, really, really liked it.”
Flynn brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, then leaned in and kissed her softly on the nose. “My mate,” he growled, his voice a low rumble.
Lucy nodded, her head feeling impossibly heavy. “Yes.”
Flynn drew her to him and growled softly at Wyatt, who immediately scrambled to get to Flynn’s other side so that Flynn could get a hold of him as well. It was one of those little territorial dragon things that never failed to make Lucy smile.
“Xyr rasvim,” Flynn said, very softly as Lucy settled herself further against him.
She couldn’t quite manage a reply, sleep already claiming her, but she heard Wyatt answer for her, “Yes, always.”
And oh, yes, she was making sure that happened again.
For those of you who want a visual, the red and gold one is pretty close to what Flynn's dragon dick looks like:
Wyatt wanted to know why most of their important conversations ended up being while lounging around in bed.
Not that lounging around in bed was all that they did, but they were definitely in bed when they decided what to do about instituting the tax reforms, and when they discussed the possible war in the south, and when they decided how to handle it if their children ended up being part dragon.
And now, apparently, they were going to be in bed when Lucy asked Wyatt if he wanted to get fucked by Flynn in his… less than human state.
Flynn actually wasn’t there—he was out doing some flying to stretch his wings. But that only made Lucy bolder, since Flynn wasn’t around to get confused. Flynn seemed frankly bewildered by this kink that Lucy—and okay, fine, Wyatt as well—seemed to have for his draconic side, but he was more than happy to go along with whatever the other two wanted.
Wyatt suspected that Flynn liked it a lot more than he wanted to admit but didn’t want to risk asking for more than what his mates were willing to give. Like how he hadn’t said anything about how the other dragons thought Lucy and Wyatt only kept him around as a bodyguard, and it had taken Lucy learning this from Denise at a party to find it out.
Since then, Lucy had commissioned a third wedding ring for Flynn and taken to making sure that she and Wyatt wore a bit of burgundy every time they were making a public appearance, whether it was a diplomatic meeting, a party, or going out.
Nobody was going to second-guess that Flynn was theirs, even if the laws of man didn’t say so.
But the point was that Wyatt thought Flynn wanted what Lucy kept asking for, he just wanted Lucy and Wyatt to be the ones to ask.
It was night, and the fire was crackling since it was cold without Flynn’s extra warmth there. Lucy was curled up in Wyatt’s arms, her back to his chest, so she rolled around until she was facing him. “Would you like Flynn to fuck you the way he fucks me?”
He knew that she wasn’t talking about positions. “I… I do.”
Lucy’s dark eyes were gentle. “Then why don’t you ask for it?”
It wasn’t like Wyatt didn’t trust Flynn or anything. And Lucy, after passing out that first time (and giving both him and Flynn heart attacks) had trained her body to get used to it. Last time she’d lightly pushed Flynn down onto the bed and slid onto him and fucked him from on top, clearly and enthusiastically enjoying every moment of it.
So, yeah, he knew it was basically a fast and fantastic train to orgasmville. It was just… a dragon cock. It had ridges, for crying out loud.
Ergo, he couldn’t quite stamp down the little twist in his chest that said that maybe this would be the one time something would go wrong and he’d injure himself in a way that was not only painful but hugely embarrassing to explain to the court physician.
“I don’t know. I just—the moment comes where I could and I get scared.”
“I… I know it’s irrational but I just get worried.”
Lucy tapped her finger lightly on his chest, thinking. “Is it the kind of fear like when you first ride a horse and you know you’ll get over it?”
Wyatt thought about it. “I think so.”
Lucy beamed at him. “Then why not ride the horse?”
She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Besides. I know what else you want.”
Wyatt’s face burned. “Oh?”
“I’ve seen you looking at Flynn’s tail. How is that any different?”
“It’s smaller? And doesn’t have ridges?”
“Sir Wyatt Logan you are the most ridiculous man alive,” Lucy declared, and that was when a gigantic burgundy dragon landed on the balcony.
“I thought you two would be asleep,” Flynn said as he entered, human again. Or, mostly human. He had become more relaxed in their bedroom and Wyatt could see scales running in a now familiar pattern up Flynn’s chest and over one shoulder.
Wyatt didn’t know how to say it, but it always made his breath catch in his throat when he saw that. Flynn’s transformations were powered by emotions. If his scales were peeking out like that it was because of the love he was feeling for them.
Flynn slid into the pile of furs that they called their bed, letting Lucy kiss him thoroughly before holding his hand out to Wyatt and pulling him in, kissing him until Wyatt felt like he was melting. “What were you two talking about?” he asked.
Lucy looked at Wyatt, and he knew that it was up to him. If he didn’t say anything, Lucy would let it go. She would be blunt, and she would tease, but she never forced.
“…about you,” Wyatt admitted, turning back to look at Flynn. “About you… fucking me. The way that you fuck Lucy, sometimes. When you… when you let go.”
Flynn’s dark gaze roamed over Wyatt’s face. “And is that something you want?”
Wyatt nodded. “I think so.”
Flynn’s eyes turned gold and he kissed Wyatt with a growl. Wyatt could feel some of the skin under his hands turning to scale, the tongue in his mouth growing longer, forked, and the cock brushing against his thigh becoming heavier, thicker, with ridges.
He pulled back, panting, and looked down. He was used to seeing the draconic version of Flynn’s cock—much smaller when attached to his otherwise human body than it was when he was in full dragon form—but it was still a little intimidating.
“Could I maybe… I don’t know…” Wyatt could feel his face burning. “Could I blow you a little first? Just to kind of… see what it feels like?”
“Sure,” Flynn replied, his voice cracking. Wyatt saw a few more scales breaking out on Flynn’s chest and oh, he really liked that idea, didn’t he?
Wyatt pulled back and got between Flynn’s legs. “You want that.”
Lucy slid her hand down Flynn’s chest from behind, kissing down his neck. “Of course he wants that,” she said, her voice dark and soft. “You like it that we want this, that we want to touch you like this.”
Flynn tilted his head to stare at her. “I think you both might be insane, but… yes.”
“We’re definitely insane,” Wyatt confirmed, nosing up Flynn’s thighs. “We’re not denying that.”
He flicked his tongue along the tip, testing it, trying to feel the difference. It felt like a strange combination of scales and skin, the shape fitting the former but the texture more like the latter.
If you can’t even put it in your mouth, Logan, then how the hell are you supposed to put it anywhere else, he told himself. And it wasn’t like it was—well, it was too thick to take all the way but it wasn’t like it was a foot long or anything.
Wyatt swirled his tongue over the head and heard Flynn growl out something in Draconic. The head was a bit flat and slanted, but when he ran his tongue down it, he could feel the slit and Flynn swore violently, one of his hands digging into Wyatt’s shoulder as Wyatt started to take more of him into his mouth.
He actually kind of liked this. It was new, different. There was more to learn and explore—like the fact that apparently sliding his tongue along the base of the ridges made Flynn’s hips jerk violently (which in turn made Lucy laugh). He could only get his mouth about halfway down but Flynn didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. When Wyatt looked up at him through his lashes Flynn was staring at him, eyes golden, mouth open and slack like he couldn’t actually believe what he was seeing.
Wyatt scraped his teeth lightly along the shaft as he pulled off and Flynn shuddered. “Yeah,” he said, grinning, “he likes that.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with the two of you,” Flynn asked, his voice wrecked.
“Fuck us?” Lucy replied brightly.
Flynn looked at Wyatt, who nodded. “Fuck me.”
Lucy pulled back so that Flynn could shift, getting behind Wyatt. To Wyatt’s surprise it wasn’t fingers that he felt but rather Flynn’s tongue, rougher and more agile than a human one, circling and sliding in.
Wyatt clenched his hands in the furs, spreading his legs unconsciously as he felt his cock growing hard and heavy between his legs. Lucy gave him a wicked grin. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Wyatt glared at her. He was well aware of Lucy’s opinion on Flynn’s dragon tongue, thanks, seeing as she was getting multiple orgasms out of it.
And, all right, yes, he’d seen how much she enjoyed all of this and he’d wanted a bit of it himself. And it wasn’t… it was great, all right, he felt like his knees were going to give out and he was going to just melt completely into the floor. Lucy wasn’t helping, either, running her hands all over both of them and kissing whatever skin or scale she could reach, thoroughly enjoying the show.
It felt like his spine was liquifying, and when he felt a hint of teeth he outright moaned.
“I’m good,” he panted, not trusting himself not to lose it in the next few minutes. If Lucy or Flynn had put their hand on his dick just then he was certain he’d have blown his load. “Garcia, fuck, I’m—I’m good, I want—”
He knew he was coasting on a haze of endorphins and that was why his fears were gone, replaced only with a desperate want, but he also knew he should ride that wave as long as it would carry him before the worry kicked in again.
Flynn leaned over him, kissing the back of Wyatt’s neck. “Any time you want me to stop, just say so, okay? You can stop at any time, it’s okay.”
Wyatt nodded. Flynn had said the same thing when Wyatt had gotten fucked the first time, just regular human fucking. He’d been a bit scared then too, and that had turned out fantastic, so…
Lucy rubbed the back of his shoulder soothingly, and then Wyatt could feel Flynn starting to enter him and oh, wow. Holy. That was—thick, that was really thick, and for a second there Wyatt forgot how to breathe.
Then he forced himself to exhale, to relax, and Flynn got past that first ring of resistance and was sliding in the rest of the way.
Wyatt made a little ung sound at the back of his throat. It was like every nerve in his body had fled except for the ones that Flynn was touching. Flynn shifted slightly, as if testing how Wyatt’s body was doing, and the ridges scraped a little and oh, oh, okay, fuck, so, that felt good. Um, no wonder Lucy liked this.
“You good?” Flynn asked.
Wyatt nodded. “You can—I want you to move.”
Flynn kissed down his spine a bit, and then began to thrust.
Holy mother of Christ.
Wyatt didn’t dare look at Lucy’s face because he knew it would be smug as shit but oh fuck, yeah, it was just on the edge of too much but he was liking it, pressing back into it, and Flynn knew from experience exactly what angle was best and was hitting that spot that made stars appear in Wyatt’s vision and something about the way the head was angled or something was making it rub up against that spot continuously and he found himself urging Flynn to go harder, please, God, harder, and he thought he might fucking choke but he didn’t even care—
Flynn got an arm around his waist, keeping them together as Wyatt’s legs gave out. He was babbling, and knew it, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what words he was saying. He could feel Flynn losing control a little and he wanted it, he wanted it so badly he was pushing back, asking for it, and then Flynn growled and bit down on the back of Wyatt’s neck and he could feel Flynn coming and someone—Lucy, it must be Lucy—had a hand on his cock and that was all he needed, he was gone.
He didn’t pass out, the way Lucy had, but he definitely lost brain function for a moment. Or motor function. Or, something, because he was pretty sure he couldn’t move even his pinkie finger. He was just… boneless, panting helplessly into the furs, little waves of pleasure still making him shiver.
Lucy helpfully brought them both water while Flynn sank down next to him, petting his hair. “You good, xyr isk?”
Wyatt managed to nod, offering no resistance when Flynn helped him sit up to drink the water. He couldn’t feel his legs. He really hoped nobody chose this moment to invade the castle.
“You win,” he croaked at Lucy. “That was awesome.”
And that was when he passed out.
Just realized I should probably reassure everyone that while I forgot to mention it, yes, lube is being used.
Flynn ran hot. It was evident just from standing near him, and Lucy and Wyatt definitely got the benefit of it at night when curled up on either side of him. During the summer, they just lay on top of a few furs and let Flynn’s body heat take care of the rest, the windows open. During the winter, they still had to pile on the furs and get in front of the fire for Flynn’s benefit, but curling up with him and pulling the furs over their heads, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Flynn loved those days best. He’d used to hate the cold, alone in his cave, with nothing but the memories of Lorena and Iris and the thought of his revenge to keep him warm. But now when winter truly set in, and the castle grew still and court was disbanded so everyone could curl up and focus on surviving, he could spend the days in bed with his mates, taking care of them, keeping them safe and warm.
Wyatt was especially content to just sleep the days away. He was in charge of organizing the guard patrol, but few would be stupid enough to try and attack during the winter when it would spell doom for both armies, so the rest of the time he just plastered himself to Flynn’s side and napped.
Lucy, on the other hand, needed a lot of entertaining.
She devoured every book she could get her hands on, reading parts out loud to her husbands. She played with the bits of Flynn’s hoard that he stored in the room because it gave him anxiety not to have at least some of it readily available, and experimented with new hairstyles. She tried to learn how to do a handstand, tried to get Wyatt to teach her how to fight, and reacted with horror when it was suggested that maybe she might want to practice her sewing.
And, inevitably, her mind wandered onto other ideas, which brought Flynn back to his original statement of: he ran hot.
That had apparently given Lucy ideas.
“Guess what I have!” Lucy announced, entering the room with a small bucket.
Wyatt cracked an eye open. “A new book?”
He would never admit it, but Wyatt liked it when Lucy read the fairy tale stories out loud to him. Flynn preferred Homer, personally.
Lucy grinned, settling herself in the pile of furs as Flynn added another log to the fire. “Ice.”
Wyatt frowned. “You brought ice? Why?”
Lucy’s grin turned wicked. “Why, for fun, sweetheart.”
Wyatt pulled a fur up over his head. “Whatever idea you’re thinking of, no.”
Lucy, undeterred, burrowed in underneath the fur with him. “You’ll like it, I promise.”
“You’ve liked every other idea I’ve had.”
“She’s got you there,” Flynn noted. He peered at the bucket of ice. It wasn’t just one big block but lots of small handfuls of it. “What were you thinking?”
In answer, Lucy sat up, and then picked up a small piece in her hand, crooking her finger at him. “Come here.”
Flynn did so.
Lucy popped the ice cube into her mouth and then kissed him.
Flynn shivered as her tongue—and the ice cube—slid into his mouth, melting quickly but giving him a jolt. It was… odd but in a good way, surprising and actually pleasurable. It was so different from the warmth that he had come to expect from Lucy’s soft sweet kisses, and contrasted with the heat of her hands framing his face.
“Think we could have some fun with that?” Lucy asked, her voice low and teasing. “We’ve got ice cubes…” Her fingers trailed down his chest. “…and your heat…”
Flynn could see Wyatt peeking out from under the furs and watching them with interest.
Lucy picked up another ice cube, sliding it over the scales at Flynn’s shoulder. He shuddered, the cold a jarring but oddly… refreshing note against his skin. He was more sensitive where the scales were—where any part of his true draconic nature showed through—and he could feel the heat of his body combating it, melting the ice cube so that the cold water slid down his skin.
Lucy lapped up the ice, her tongue warm in contrast, and Flynn shuddered, definitely starting to see the appeal to this.
Wyatt propped himself up a little more, watching, his blue eyes starting to get darker. Lucy took the next piece of ice but this time lowered the chemise she was wearing—a dark red one that she’d gotten after the whole party thing—and rubbed the ice over her breast, shivering a little at the cold.
Flynn knew what she wanted even before she crooked her finger at him and he lowered his lead, lapping at her breast, sucking on it and even scraping his teeth on it a little before pulling away. Lucy drew in a shaky breath, and Flynn could well imagine the contrast—his mouth was far warmer than hers had been against his scales.
He pulled back with a soft pop, smirking up at Lucy who was staring at him with parted lips, her eyes dark and wide. Flynn thought she would kiss him next but instead Lucy said breathily, “Wyatt?”
Wyatt sat up. “Yeah?”
Lucy picked up another piece of ice. “Come here.”
Wyatt came, as he always did, forever (and happily) following Lucy’s orders. Lucy leaned in, her lips brushing Wyatt’s ear. “You know what to do,” she whispered, feeding him the ice.
Wyatt didn’t hesitate, sucking it into his mouth and then turning. Flynn was already moving in, sealing his mouth over Wyatt’s, sliding his tongue in and stealing the ice from between his lips. Wyatt was in a playful mood, kissing back fiercely, making Flynn work for it to get him pliant.
Flynn growled deep in his throat. Unlike Lucy, who Flynn was always happy to follow, Wyatt had realized that as a dragon, Flynn had a bit of possession in him, and liked that feeling of fighting, of earning, and so Wyatt would fight Flynn on things, make Flynn get a little rough with him. It made something inside of Flynn roar in satisfaction when he could get Wyatt to go from feisty to submissive, letting Flynn lick the last of the coolness from his mouth.
When Wyatt pulled away, panting, Lucy was there, sliding an ice cube into her mouth and sliding down until she could lap at Flynn’s cock.
Flynn’s hips jolted at the feeling and Wyatt finally got with the program, scratching lightly at Flynn’s scales as he kissed Flynn again, Lucy sending shivers through him with her cool mouth.
She pulled away after the ice cube had melted, and a moment later she was back again, her mouth properly warm and soft this time, and the change in temperature made Flynn bite down hard on Wyatt’s lip. He licked it soothingly in apology, making Wyatt grin into the next kiss.
Lucy slid down over his cock a few times, flicking her tongue over the head, tracing the vein that ran up the underside. She pulled back, her lips red and swollen and shining. Flynn couldn’t stop staring at her.
This time she took the ice and kissed Wyatt, sliding the ice down his chest and making him shiver. Flynn didn’t even need to be told what to do now, lapping up the trail of melted ice with his tongue, his hot breath turning Wyatt’s skin a little pink. Wyatt made a lovely whimpering noise into Lucy’s mouth, breathing hard through his nose.
Lucy plunged her hand into the bucket of ice and held it there while she turned to kiss Flynn, then Wyatt again, then Flynn, practically purring like a well-fed cat. “Greedy,” Flynn told her affectionately.
“Very,” Lucy replied, tilting her head so that Wyatt could suck a hickey into her neck. She was never shy about wanting as much affection as possible from her husbands and Wyatt, being a sucker for praise, and Flynn, being tactile as fuck, were happy to oblige her.
At last Lucy removed her hand from the ice, her other hand taking Wyatt’s cock in her hand and starting to pump it slowly, smiling against his mouth. “You trust me?”
“Yes,” Wyatt replied immediately, his voice hoarse. For all his grumpiness, Wyatt seemed incapable of truly saying ‘no’ to either of them.
Lucy switched her hands, stroking him with the ice cold one. Wyatt’s eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply, and then almost as soon as she’d started, Lucy switched to her warm hand again.
Wyatt’s groan made Flynn want to press his ear to Wyatt’s chest so that he could feel it as well as hear it. He slid up behind Wyatt and kissed up his spine, across his shoulder, taking a bit of skin between his teeth and sucking.
Lucy alternated to the cold again, and then back to the warm, for another minute before taking Wyatt’s cock in her mouth as well. Flynn wrapped his arm around Wyatt’s chest, his hand right in the middle, able to feel every vibration as Wyatt’s head fell back against his shoulder and he came.
Flynn let Wyatt sag against him before Lucy tugged on his wrist, guiding him down onto the bed and kissing him, another ice cube in his mouth. Flynn dug his hands in her thick dark hair, sliding his tongue around the rapidly melting ice and Lucy’s tongue, mapping out the inside of her mouth. He should have been expecting it, but really wasn’t, when Lucy sank down onto him.
Flynn’s hips bucked and he pushed himself up a little, changing the angle and making Lucy yelp into his mouth before sighing happily and starting to work herself up and down.
Wyatt grabbed the ice bucket and winked at Flynn before getting a piece of ice and sliding it over Lucy’s chest. Lucy gasped, and Flynn pushed himself up at once, his mouth following the trail, sucking at her breasts and licking across her skin. Lucy moaned, hips rolling and swiveling as she chased her high.
The ice was fun, but Flynn was a dragon and would always be a creature of heat, generating it and seeking it out in equal measure. He wanted to bury himself in Lucy, in the hot, silky heart of her, and never leave.
Lucy wrapped her arms around him, and then her hot mouth was against his, all games forgotten, working herself on him until she tightened around him, a quiet little noise escaping her as she came.
Flynn pinned her to him and fucked up into her, not having to worry about being careful when human like this, losing himself in the rush of sweet heat as he finally tipped over.
They used the melted ice leftover in the bucket to help clean up. Wyatt kissed Lucy, dragged himself over to Flynn, flung a blanket over himself, and passed out against Flynn’s side.
Lucy crawled over to Flynn’s other side a moment later, kissing the patch of scales on his shoulder. “I’d call that a success, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m sure that’s not the last of your ideas for wiling away the winter,” Flynn replied.
“Not in the least,” Lucy said happily.
But for now there was just more cuddling in the warmth from the fire, the soft furs piled around them while the snow fell outside. Flynn did a cursory check of the room, as he always did before falling asleep: pieces of his hoard in place, check. No suspicious activity like someone trying to sneak in, check. Wyatt’s sword in easy reach, check. Food and water for when his mates woke up, check.
Then he fell asleep, knowing the cycle would repeat itself across the winter days until the world warmed and spring came, nothing to do but soak up all the love his mates could give him and then return it in every way he knew how.
Funny, how he’d used to hate winter.
And you all thought I couldn't possibly make this any more weird and depraved.
When Wyatt walked into the bedroom, Flynn was napping.
That in and of itself wasn’t much cause to pause. It was more the fact that Flynn had transformed again in his sleep.
There was now a gigantic burgundy dragon sleeping in the pile of furs, pillows, and blankets in the middle of the room.
Wyatt’s first reaction was to figure that he should walk over and drape himself over Flynn’s nose, petting between his eyes. It was a good way to wake Flynn up without startling him, since his senses would subconsciously already be focused on mate and home.
His second reaction was to zero in on Flynn’s twitching tail.
It was stupid. Ridiculous, and—and Flynn would just laugh if he knew, and—
“How many times am I going to catch you staring before you actually say anything?”
Flynn’s voice was so much deeper when he was in his true draconic form, reverberating through the room.
Wyatt couldn’t stop the flush that spread over his face. “Ah…”
Flynn stretched, and then he was doing that—that thing he did when he transformed. Wyatt still didn’t know how it worked and neither did Flynn. “Magic” was the basic explanation. All Wyatt knew was that one moment, Flynn the massive fire breathing dragon was in front of him, and the next it was Flynn the human, curled up underneath one of the blankets.
Well, mostly human. The pattern of scales that curled up his chest and over his shoulder was still there. They were always there now, since Flynn had learned that Lucy and Wyatt liked his draconic side.
And then there was the tail.
It was smaller now, proportionate to Flynn’s smaller, human size—although he was still over six feet—but flicking back and forth lazily, dark red and scaled and curling around a pillow. It wasn’t quite prehensile, but it would curl protectively around Lucy and Wyatt when Flynn thought they might be in danger and it was used by Flynn for balance when he flew. It was a muscle, a limb, just a less dexterous one, like an arm without fingers.
Wyatt couldn’t stop fucking staring at it.
And Flynn was staring at Wyatt.
“C’mere,” Flynn said. He looked amused.
Wyatt stumbled over, watching dumbly as Flynn stood up, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging him in, kissing him.
Wyatt knew he was being placated but he let it happen, nipping at Flynn’s mouth to get Flynn to growl and kiss him with more force. He loved goading Flynn into dominance.
Flynn abruptly sank back down, taking Wyatt with him, twisting them so that Wyatt landed on his back with Flynn above him, between his legs. Flynn tucked his face into Wyatt’s neck, inhaling deeply. “God, I love how you smell when you’re like this. You and Lucy it’s like you’re screaming for me without making a sound and I can’t…”
Wyatt arched up, feeling how much Flynn wanted him, spreading his legs and rolling his hips. Fuck, he wanted Flynn so badly. He always wanted him, like wildfire under his skin.
Flynn pulled back, shifting onto his side, raising an eyebrow at Wyatt. “So… are we going to talk about the thing you’ve got for my tail?”
Wyatt could feel his face burning. “I…”
He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t have a thing, because he did. He had ever since he’d realized that Flynn could partially transform, that his tail could be, well, more manageable. He wanted it wrapped around him, holding him in place, he wanted it sliding over his bare skin, and he wanted…
Flynn growled low in his chest and Wyatt knew that his scent had spiked as he’d thought about it. He was getting hard, so hard just thinking about it, even as he simultaneously wanted to die from embarrassment.
“You know it’s just a limb,” Flynn noted. “It’s like an arm or a leg.”
The tail flicked back and forth and Wyatt swallowed hard. “Yeah, I know that.”
“But what you know and how you feel are two different things,” Flynn noted astutely.
His tail slowly slid up Wyatt’s leg and Wyatt knew the tent in his pants was stupidly obvious now. Fuck.
“Something like that,” he managed to choke out.
“I feel obligated to point out that Lucy had to talk you into taking my dick,” Flynn said, sounding amused, confused, and fondly exasperated all at the same time. “Care to explain why that freaked you out and this doesn’t?”
Wyatt glared at him. “Maybe you could explain why you were freaking out over Lucy liking your whole dragon thing even though it feels better for you when you let yourself be that way.”
Flynn paused. “Touché.”
The tail crept higher, until the tip had wormed its way under Wyatt’s pants, flicking lazily back and forth across the soft skin of his lower stomach. Wyatt made a small noise in the back of his throat, figuring he might as well let it all out now that Flynn knew.
“I just can’t help but wonder,” Flynn went on, “seeing as it’s, well, a tail. It’s a rudder when I fly, it’s not exactly meant for fucking.” He nosed up Wyatt’s throat.
Wyatt knew that—of course he knew that, he wasn’t an idiot who went around thinking dragons fucked each other with their tails—but that didn’t make him want it any less. The fact that it wasn’t done, that it wasn’t supposed to be done that way, only seemed to make his blood run hotter.
“Oh I get it,” Flynn said, his voice practically a purr. “It’s about rebellion, isn’t it? You like the idea of how wrong it is.”
Wyatt dug his nails into Flynn’s shoulders as Flynn’s hand slid down to cup Wyatt through his pants, his thumb swiping lazily up and down. Sometimes he hated how well Flynn knew him—Lucy knew him just as well, but she’d known him from the time they were children, when Wyatt had been her shadow. Flynn just took one look at him and it was like everything that Wyatt tried to keep hidden was exposed and laid bare.
Flynn shifted, planting his knee down between Wyatt’s legs, both to spread them a bit further and to give himself better balance so he could lean down and brush his mouth over Wyatt’s.
Flynn’s hand slid up to toy with Wyatt’s nightshirt, the dark red one that Lucy had ordered for him, to match Flynn’s scales and Lucy’s nightgowns. “Well?” he asked. “Am I right? Is this about seeing just how bad Sir Logan can really get?”
And damn it, maybe it was. Maybe it was about how Wyatt had grown up always having to be the best, always having to be good, because he was the child of a third son of a baron and knew he wouldn’t be good enough to be anything else, so he had to be the best knight there was, he had to prove his place, and he had to follow every rule, because his father thought hitting him for every failure was the way to parent, because no one would take him seriously if he wasn’t winning tournaments, because only the best got to be chosen to follow Queen Carol and Princess Lucy back to her father’s court and he’d be damned if he would be left behind while his childhood best friend and his wife went away, and then because he was barely a noble and he was chosen as the queen’s consort, as the mate of a dragon, and he had humans and dragonkind alike looking at him and judging him and deciding whether he measured up or not…
And maybe, just maybe, because men talked and he’d heard plenty of insane rumors about just what it meant to be mated to a dragon and the angry, rebellious, middle-finger-in-your-face part of Wyatt wanted to prove them right and demand to know what they were going to do about it.
“Yes,” Wyatt admitted, panting it up into Flynn’s mouth.
Flynn’s growl was pleased as punch right before he kissed Wyatt with all that he had. Wyatt could feel Flynn’s tail wrapping around his leg, pulling it wide so that Flynn’s weight could sink onto him, grinding them together, and Wyatt had to wrap his arm around Flynn’s shoulders to anchor himself as his whole body shook.
The next time he heard someone say, I hear it’s not even his cock, that it’s too big, that it’s with his tail, he wanted to go actually it depends on the day, you got a problem with it, Caleb?
“I’m never going to fully understand why this turns you two on, am I?” Flynn rumbled, his hands moving down to tug Wyatt’s pants off.
“Probably not,” Wyatt replied, “But do you really care?”
Flynn tilted his head, considering. “No.”
Then his eyes flashed red and when he kissed Wyatt that time, it was all dragon.
Wyatt moaned around the tongue in his mouth, the stronger, forked one that came out when Flynn let more of himself go. Part of why it was so damn attractive was knowing that it was because Flynn wanted him and Lucy, that it was Flynn’s love and desire for them overcoming his willpower. How many people got a physical, tangible sign every time their partner thought about how much they loved them?
He heard Flynn scrounging around among the blankets to find the oil they kept. It was always getting lost in the bedding somewhere, seeing as they never went a long enough period without it to warrant putting it away in a drawer.
Wyatt hitched up his leg as Flynn gave his cock a few pulls before sliding his hand farther down. Wyatt could still remember when he’d been nervous about even letting Flynn’s fingers inside of him, wanting it but unsure about how it would go, needing lots of petting and distracting to get started. Now he just sighed into it, relaxing.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t at all nervous. He was. He wanted but also feared that this would go horribly wrong.
But Wyatt could trust Flynn. Flynn hadn’t let him or Lucy get hurt, not once, and he’d fucked Lucy in midair for crying out loud. Flynn was, at his core, a creature designed to rend flesh from bone, to rip and tear asunder, and never had he so much as scratched one of them.
Flynn would take care of him.
He wrapped his arm around to get his hand in the hair at the back of Flynn’s head, keeping Flynn from pulling away and ending the kissing as Flynn slowly fucked him open. Some people, knowing nothing about dragons other than their fearsomeness, probably thought Flynn did something like pin him down and fuck him rough and raw, and sometimes Wyatt did want Flynn to get a little rough, a little dominant, but Flynn was always careful, always considerate. Wyatt would rather have died than hurt the people he loved and Flynn was the same.
Flynn found that perfect angle, the one that made Wyatt see sparks, and Wyatt twitched helplessly on his fingers, face burning still as he thought about what was coming next. He could already imagine it inside of him, all that twitching, coiled muscle fucking him until he gagged on it.
“I’m ready,” he gasped into Flynn’s mouth. “I want—Garcia, please.”
For a moment Flynn just kept kissing him, but then his fingers slid out and he nudged Wyatt’s legs open a little wider.
And then Wyatt could feel it, sliding up the inside of his thigh, nudging at him, and the sound that escaped from his throat could be barely classified as human. Flynn’s eyes were dark and golden, his hands sliding over the rest of Wyatt’s body like a feast laid out for him.
Like always, Flynn whispered, “you sure?”
The tail started to slide inside.
Wyatt’s breath caught in his throat and his nails dug into Flynn’s arm. It was smaller than Flynn’s cock, with a blunt tip, but the more it pushed in the thicker it got. The texture was like a less extreme version of the ridges on Flynn’s cock, and it twisted slowly, as if Flynn was exploring.
“Fuck,” Wyatt blurted out, his voice wrecked. Flynn was watching his face hungrily, like just seeing Wyatt desperate like this was more than enough, and feeling his mate’s hot gaze on him only made him want it more. He wanted to show off a little, to show Flynn how much he liked it, make Flynn a little desperate too.
He felt it pull out and then slide back in and it felt like nothing else, it felt foreign and gave him the dirtiest kind of thrill. He arched into it, mouth open, sucking in gulps of air and moaning them right back out again, his hands clawing at Flynn, at the furs. He didn’t know which was turning him on more, the sensations themselves or the knowledge of what they were doing.
Flynn growled and slid his hand up Wyatt’s other leg, pulling it wide. He was completely pinned now, Flynn’s tail draped over one thigh, Flynn’s hand on the other, his supernatural strength coming into play as he kept Wyatt from moving. Wyatt knew, of course, that if he really wanted to move he could just ask and Flynn would let go, but he wanted to be pinned down, wanted to be forced to just take it.
He was being fucked slowly, leisurely, like they had all the time in the world. Flynn was the one on the side nearest the door, blocking most of Wyatt from view, but anyone who walked in would see Flynn’s tail moving and hear Wyatt’s helpless whines and would know exactly what was going on. He hazily wondered what Lucy would think if she came in.
She’d just join in, probably. Or happily watch.
“I like this,” Flynn said, a growl lurking in the edge of his voice but otherwise sounding conversational. His hand went between his legs to stroke himself in time with the movements of his tail. “I get to enjoy watching you fall apart.”
“Glad to… to hear that you ap-approve,” Wyatt managed to stutter out, and then he almost screamed because Flynn hit that spot inside of him and oh fuck fuck fuck he didn’t know if he wanted to come or if he wanted to keep going like this forever.
Suddenly Flynn shifted, swinging his leg over Wyatt so that he was straddling him, putting a bit of his weight down—not enough to hurt but enough to keep Wyatt pinned—his tail still fucking into Wyatt from behind Flynn’s back.
“I think you’d look very pretty all marked up,” Flynn said, almost conversationally.
Wyatt realized what Flynn meant and thought for a second that he’d had an aneurysm and died. His entire body seized up like it had been struck by lightning and then gave a massive shudder. He needed to come so badly he thought he might pass out.
“Oh, you like that idea,” Flynn murmured. He leaned forward, putting his cock in line with Wyatt’s, and Wyatt nearly went cross eyed. “You want me to come all over you? Get you all dirty?”
Wyatt tried to say yes please but what came out sounded more like hhnngh.
Flynn leaned in, bracing himself on one arm. “Maybe I should make you go out without bathing. Even the humans would be able to tell you’re mine that way. Every dragon in a hundred miles would know that we’re mates.”
Wyatt decided that he needed to talk to Lucy about passing a law that made it illegal for Flynn to talk because he was so close he could taste it in the back of his throat, his lungs not so much pumping air as seizing up over and over again.
Flynn sat back up again. “Put your hands over your head.”
Wyatt did so, and Flynn took his free hand and grabbed Wyatt’s wrists, bending down again, his weight ensuring that Wyatt couldn’t wriggle his hands out.
“Oh, fuck,” Wyatt blurted out, his body shaking and twisting uncontrollably, not to get away but because he literally couldn’t fucking handle all that he was feeling. Oh, God, they were definitely doing this again, because Flynn was fucking him and also sliding their cocks together and pinning him down and Wyatt thought he might actually lose his vision or something because everything was blurry and his entire body was made up of fire and lightning and—
Flynn came with a grunt, marking up Wyatt’s chest, and the growl of satisfaction that Flynn let out made Wyatt’s spine fucking liquify. Flynn’s tail fucked back in and hit his prostate and then fucking stayed there, keeping Wyatt in that ohgodfuckpleasepleaseplease place as Flynn stroked Wyatt’s dick, his other hand squeezing around Wyatt’s wrists.
He was pretty sure this was what dying felt like, but if this was dying then damn, it felt amazing and totally worth it.
Wyatt wasn’t sure if he passed out or not. Time kind of became hard to track. But when he could actually see again, his body still shaking, little rivers of pleasure racing down his spine here and there, Flynn was on his side again, gently petting him, checking him over.
“Unless I’m reading this entirely wrong I think we can call that a success,” Flynn noted.
Wyatt tried to say um fuck yes but what came out was a kind of gurgling groaning noise.
“…you’re going to fall asleep on me now, aren’t you,” Flynn said, but his gaze was still roaming over Wyatt’s body, a pleased look in his eyes. He wasn’t saying it, but Wyatt knew he was thinking something about what a pretty mate Wyatt was.
Wyatt and Lucy might have been equal suckers for Flynn’s endearments.
He rolled into Flynn’s side, weakly tugging at Flynn until Flynn lay down with him, their legs tangled, Wyatt’s head on Flynn’s shoulder.
“You know we have meetings later,” Flynn noted.
Wyatt didn’t give a fuck. He was already half asleep and he wanted his husband with him, dammit.
Flynn gave a chuckle and buried his nose in Wyatt’s hair, his arms wrapping around him.
“Nothing you want is wrong,” Flynn whispered. “You’re perfect, and whatever you want, I’d give it to you.”
Wyatt wasn’t really capable of speech at that point, but he tightened his hold on Flynn to show that he heard.
They were still tangled up like that when Lucy found them an hour later.
Lucy would have had to be blind for her to not notice that Flynn was more sensitive as a dragon than as a human.
It was like when he was human, his senses were dulled a little somewhat. He could hear someone whispering, and he could smell when Lucy or Wyatt’s pheromones changed, but it was nothing compared to when he was in dragon form. He could ignore wounds in human form more easily, while in dragon form they affected him more—although he could still take a hell of a lot more hits than any human could.
She would have had to be blind, deaf, and possibly also an idiot to not have noticed when Flynn got severely injured during a battle and how he stayed in human form all through the recovery period since it hurt less. He’d hated being laid up in their nest of furs and blankets that whole time, unable to be at Lucy and Wyatt’s sides, protecting them. They hadn’t even been able to cuddle him like usual, for fear of jostling his wounds in his sleep.
Wyatt had taken it especially hard. He’d never said it out loud but Lucy knew he thought he’d failed, that he should have seen that attack from the right flank, that he should’ve gotten in between. Lucy had been more focused on handling a Flynn who was grumpy because he couldn’t move for weeks, reassuring him whenever he got worried that she wouldn’t be safe without him. Wyatt, on the other hand, had been like a puppy who’d peed on the rug, contrite and cuddling.
But through it all, Flynn had stayed human to dull the pain.
Which had, naturally, planted the seed of an idea in Lucy’s mind.
Flynn was fully recovered now, as any knight in the training sessions could attest. Wyatt and Lucy could attest to it in other ways as well but, that would be fucking and telling. One of the benefits of being in a polyamorous relationship was that she could get in her need to gossip about Flynn by talking to Wyatt about it (and vice versa) instead of talking to someone else and letting everyone in the castle know her business.
With his recovery, Flynn was back to being somewhat dragonish when he was in the bedroom. The curve of scales over his shoulder and down his chest was there, the ones Lucy hadn’t realized she’d grown accustomed to until she was missing them. Sometimes his tail was there, sometimes it wasn’t, and his eyes were almost always gold or red.
And that was when Lucy struck.
Wyatt was out running some drills and having a meeting about something or other with Sir Baumgardner, but Flynn was only half awake with Lucy, idly skimming his fingers up and down her shoulder and side.
Lucy propped herself up, pressing lightly down on his chest until Flynn lay down, letting her hover over him. He might have been wounded but he was still a dragon, a being of fire and magic and power incarnate.
And here he was, letting a five foot three inches tall woman literally push him around.
It was one of the few times Lucy felt truly powerful. As a queen her hands were more often tied than she would have liked. Politics got in the way of far too much. But here, in their bedroom, she was the one in control, none of her power diluted or ignored or complicated.
Lucy kissed him. Flynn gave a happy rumble in his chest, kissing her back, his hands running lightly over her curves. “Stay still,” Lucy whispered into his mouth. “Put your hands at your sides. No touching.”
Flynn arched an eyebrow at her but did as he was told.
Lucy smirked at him, then bent down to lick at the scales creeping up his neck. Flynn gave a low growl. When Lucy bit down on his scales, Flynn groaned, his body jolting.
“Like I thought,” Lucy said, grinning up at him. “Let’s see how long you can last, hmm?”
“You’re going to kill me, vorel,” Flynn replied.
“Oh, no, I think you’re a bit tougher than that.” Lucy winked, then leaned down and traced her tongue over the scales on his shoulder. She sucked at them, and Flynn groaned again. “Tell me, what’s it feel like?”
“Fuck,” Flynn spat out.
“Eventually, yes,” Lucy replied, sliding her hand down the scales on his chest, raking her nails over them lightly. Flynn’s fists gripped the furs on either side of them, his knuckles white as he tried not to grab for Lucy.
“Minx,” Flynn growled. “It feels like—it feels good when you touch me but when it’s the dragon, it’s—it’s just, more, that’s the best way I can describe it.”
Lucy hummed, slowly trailing her tongue down the curving line of scales that snaked its way along Flynn’s chest. “Transform for me,” she said, sliding her hand down Flynn’s stomach.
Flynn’s eyes flashed with amusement and Lucy gave him a stern look. Whatever smart remark Flynn had been going to make—such as ‘specificity’—died away and a ripple ran through him.
Lucy still wasn’t as well acquainted with Flynn’s cock when it was draconic as she was when it was human, but that wasn’t going to stop her. If he was more sensitive this way…
Lucy took the thick cock in her hand, stroking it slowly. Flynn bit down hard on his lip, his breathing coming harshly through his nose.
She loved seeing him like this. Flynn could and did mow down entire battalions. But he was holding still, doing what she asked, simply because she asked it.
Lucy worked her way down the hard planes of Flynn’s stomach, sucking on the sensitive skin by his hipbone, until she could lap at the head of his cock. Flynn’s head fell back and he growled. Lucy grinned, then tongued at the ridges, the ones that looked similar to overlapping scales.
Flynn’s hips bucked.
“Keep. Still,” Lucy ordered.
Flynn’s hands tightened in the furs but when she did it again, he didn’t move.
She took her time exploring with her tongue, noting how the base of the ridges was where Flynn was the most sensitive, finding that the slit made him swallow down a groan, before she fit her mouth over him.
Wyatt could actually take more of him than she could because, laws of physics, Wyatt’s mouth was bigger. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to take as much as she could.
Lucy heard a telltale rip of fur and saw out of the corner of her eye that Flynn’s claws had come out as he’d dug his hands into the fabric around them. She relaxed her throat and slid her mouth down as far as she could, sliding back up and down a few times before pulling off. She liked the feeling of her mouth being stretched, but she couldn’t do this for too long or she’d get a cramp.
She licked and sucked her way back up, scraping her teeth up Flynn’s scales. His scales were more resilient than human skin and so she could get rough with her teeth as Flynn shivered underneath her, a constant growl in his chest.
“You want to touch me, don’t you?” Lucy asked. She flicked her tongue along Flynn’s bottom lip. “You’re just losing your mind.”
Flynn’s eyes flashed gold. “Lucy…”
She swung her leg over him and straddled his chest. “You can touch me while you eat me out.” She tilted her head as she looked down at him. “Because it’s more fun for you this way too, isn’t it? When your tongue is like this?” She lowered herself down to kiss him, feeling his longer, forked tongue tangling with hers.
Flynn’s eyes were his dark human color again, but the pupils were so large that they looked black. His hands slid up her legs to her thighs, no longer clawed but digging in to hold her still. “I can taste you better like this,” he admitted.
Lucy hummed, pleased. “Then don’t let me stop you.”
Flynn gave her a wicked smirk, dragging her closer to him, and licked his way up her thighs. Lucy moaned, bracing herself. Flynn had made it his mission to learn just how she liked this, and he knew exactly how to touch her and where, how to tease her to keep her on the edge, and how to get her to orgasm so fast it made her dizzy.
Right now, Flynn was definitely teasing, probably as payback for how she had teased him. He gave her little kitten licks, dainty things that made her shiver but didn’t give her what she needed to tip over. He ignored her clit entirely in favor of sliding his tongue in and out of her, until she thought she might tip over and fall.
“Garcia,” she gasped out, earning a pleased rumble from him. “Garcia.” She made her voice firm, letting him know it was an order. “Make me come.”
Flynn bit lightly at the inside of her thigh as if to say yes ma’am, and then he wasn’t playing around at all.
Lucy gave a—well, she wouldn’t personally call it a scream, but it wasn’t just a sigh, either—as her thighs shook and she felt her stomach tighten. Fuck, she really could do (and had done) this all day. Flynn’s hands were at the back of her thighs, keeping her right there, so she couldn’t squirm back out of the way to try and lessen the intensity. She ran her hands through his hair, her hips twisting and hitching both into and away from the touch as everything started to white out in her mind.
She wasn’t sure which she actually enjoyed more: the orgasm itself or the pleased growl that Flynn made as she came.
Lucy slumped a little, trusting Flynn’s hands to keep her upright, then gathered her breath together and slid back down. “No touching again.”
Flynn’s eyes flashed but he obediently stopped petting her.
Lucy smirked at him and then went back to putting her mouth on his cock.
She didn’t tease this time. She couldn’t take him down all the way but she wrapped her hand around the rest, her tongue swirling and working his slit as her mouth slid up and down. Flynn groaned out her name, his thighs tightening, but he didn’t touch her, he stayed still as she’d ordered.
Lucy tongued at the ridges, making Flynn almost whine in desperation. She pulled off. “You can come,” she told him, her hand still stroking him, and then she bent down and sucked him down again.
Flynn shuddered and choked out, “Lucy,” probably as a warning, and then he was coming and Lucy was keeping up as best she could.
They were making a mess of things but that was what laundry was for.
She finally pulled away, wiping at her mouth. And then came what was possibly her favorite part.
“You can touch me now.”
Flynn was on her in seconds, practically tackling her, kissing her for all he was worth and sliding his hands over her, gathering her up into his arms. “You should make your scales come out all over,” she told him.
“I’m not sure I’d be able to think,” Flynn replied, currently happily occupied with sucking a hickey on Lucy’s neck.
Lucy was pretty sure she could convince him. At some point.
But for now she was just happy to let Flynn kiss her, and kiss her, and kiss her.
It was Wyatt who’d actually had the initial idea.
When someone during a truce negotiation had gotten a little snappy at Lucy, Flynn had stepped in between, human in almost every other way but his wings unfurling to literally shield Lucy from the possible attacker.
A few days afterwards, Wyatt shyly asked if Flynn could fly with his wings while otherwise human.
“I can,” Flynn acknowledged. “Why?”
“Could you carry someone with you?” Wyatt asked.
Wyatt very much did not like flying on Flynn as a dragon. He kept freaking out that he’d fall off. But with Flynn’s arms around him, not flying too high but just a little…
Flynn was happy to take Wyatt a little up in the air. At first Wyatt was still scared, his face buried in Flynn’s shoulder, but after a few minutes he was able to look around, and then he loved it. He liked watching everything from high above, and it became the place Flynn would take him when Wyatt needed to clear his head.
But while Wyatt had initially had the idea… Lucy was the one who made it dirty.
“What else can you do while you have your wings?” she asked conversationally one day.
Or, what she thought was conversationally. Wyatt and Flynn immediately looked at each other, and then looked back at her.
“You will die,” Wyatt pronounced.
“I didn’t even say what I was thinking!” Lucy protested.
“She won’t die,” Flynn replied to Wyatt. “I wouldn’t let her get hurt.”
“Let me rephrase that: you will both die.”
“I’m more concerned about logistics.”
“I haven’t said what I was thinking!” Lucy repeated.
Wyatt arched an eyebrow at her. “You want Flynn to fuck you while you’re flying.”
Lucy folded her arms. “Okay, fine, so maybe you’re right.”
“We know we’re right.”
“Dragons fuck in midair all the time, right? Like birds? This would be the same thing only you’re mostly human.”
Flynn looked scandalized. “Where the fuck did you hear that? Did Rufus tell you that? Mason? Is Mason spreading false dragon information again?”
“Well, how do you do it?” Wyatt asked.
“You’ve seen what I look like, Wyatt, how do you think.”
“On a pile of gold, I knew it,” Wyatt replied.
“Garcia,” Lucy pouted. “It is possible.”
Flynn looked over at her. Lucy gave him her sweetest, most winning smile.
Flynn sighed in defeat.
“If you two break your necks, don’t come crying to me,” Wyatt said.
Wyatt watched from one of the towers.
“I cannot believe this is happening,” he muttered. “Go above the cloud cover, okay? Above.”
“Wyatt, whatever people might say, it can’t be worse than what they’re already saying,” Lucy replied.
“Just be careful, okay?” Wyatt said.
“Honestly, Wyatt, you’d think you were the one doing this, and that someone was holding a sword to your throat,” Lucy said as Flynn unfurled his wings and gathered her up in his arms. “We’ll be fine. We love you!”
“Yeah, yeah, love you too you insane idiots.”
Being up in the air was like nothing else Lucy had ever felt. She loved the feeling of weightlessness. She loved the view. She loved the little thrill that she got when she let go of Flynn and put her arms out, nothing holding her up except for Flynn’s arms, trusting in his strength.
Why wouldn’t she want to combine it with the other thing that gave her thrills?
Flynn dutifully flew above the cloud cover because he might tease Wyatt about it but he wasn’t too keen on anyone being able to see either of his mates like this. Flynn submitted to Lucy easily enough but when it came to outsiders he was wonderfully and excessively protective.
Lucy kissed along the scales that she could see, thrilling at the way Flynn shivered and it made her whole world rock a little. Already anticipation and adrenaline were filling her up, making her giddy.
“You think I’m a little crazy for this, don’t you?” she asked.
Flynn tugged on her hair so that he could kiss her properly. “Maybe. But I love you and I love giving you what you want. Who cares if it’s crazy or not?”
Then he spun her around so that her back was to his chest and Lucy gasped, instinctively clutching at him.
The world below her was so distant. She was just wearing her nightgown, because they were not dealing with logistics like clothing this high up.
“Relax,” Flynn told her, his mouth at her throat while his hand crept up under her dress, along her thigh.
Lucy forced herself to keep her eyes open, to take in the view as Flynn slid his fingers over her, rubbing at her clit until she was slick and trembling. It wasn’t vertigo, not quite, but she couldn’t deny that being this high up did things to her, and combined with the way Flynn was touching her…
He slid his fingers inside of her and Lucy moaned, feeling lightheaded in the best way as he stretched her open. Fuck, it was always good but this was—this was a lot, and she could already feel her orgasm building up inside of her, mixing with the swooping feeling in her stomach—
Flynn’s fingers slid out of her and he turned her back around. Lucy bit him as they kissed, frustrated. She’d been so close.
“Not yet,” Flynn replied, teasing her. “Can’t have this over too quickly.”
Lucy wrapped her legs around him. “Shut up and fuck me.”
Flynn growled and got one hand to press between her shoulder blades, the other cupping her ass, supporting her and holding her as Lucy got her hand on him and slid him inside of her.
Flynn thrust up into her all at once, making her scream as he filled her, stretching her the way she liked. His face clearly said that’s what you get for being impatient and Lucy had to kiss that expression right off of his face.
After a moment or two of adjustment, Lucy dug into him with her heels, and Flynn started to move.
It took her longer than it should have to realize that he was fucking her in the same rhythm that his wings were beating the air. She could see the whole world, her entire kingdom, from looking down over his shoulder.
Lucy almost wanted to laugh, but she was a little busy getting fucked right at that sweet angle that made her feel like she was melting from her waist downward. She was a queen, getting fucked by a dragon as she surveyed her kingdom.
It wasn’t exactly the princess in the tower stories she’d grown up with, but she dared anyone to come up with a more fairy tale story than that.
Lucy kissed him, feeling wild and reckless and in control and commanding all at once, her nails digging into the base of his wings at his back where he was sensitive, swallowing Flynn’s surprised yelp-growl of pleasure. She kept massaging the base there, stroking the wings where she could, putting her mouth on the scales at Flynn’s shoulders when she wasn’t kissing him outright. Flynn’s hands roamed over her back, touching her everywhere but never letting go, never losing their firm grip on her. She was starting to get that slick feeling where she was riding the edge, feeling him in and out of her hard and fast and weightless from being up in the air and—
“Garcia,” she moaned out, “I’m—I’m gonna—”
“Do you trust me?” Flynn asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Lucy nodded. She was so close, so very close and she just needed… she was about to…
Flynn’s wings stopped moving.
They plummeted only about twenty feet, just enough for her to get that insane swooping feeling in her stomach right as she came. She bit down hard on Flynn’s shoulder, screaming into it, as Flynn’s wings flapped again and he pulled up, making them hover once more.
Oh. Oh fuck. Oh holy fuck.
Flynn’s tongue darted out, licking up her neck. “I take it you liked that.”
Lucy could only cling to him and shiver uncontrollably. “Fuck,” she blurted out. “F-fuck.”
Flynn rubbed her back soothingly as she came down from the high. That had been such a combination of her orgasm high and adrenaline from the fall that she thought her brain might have short-circuited for a moment.
It took her a good few minutes to realize that Flynn had come as well, not even registering it until he slipped out of her, adjusting his grip to settle her better into his arms.
At long last she got the use of her tongue back. “That. Was amazing.”
Flynn smiled at her. “Yeah, I could kind of tell.”
Lucy thumped him on the chest. “You don’t get to be smug, I get to be smug, this was my idea.”
“Of course, whatever you say Lucy.”
Wyatt heaved a visible sigh of relief when they touched down again. After being up in the air, it took Lucy a moment to get her bearings on solid ground again.
“Looks like it was a success,” Wyatt said, taking in their debauched appearance and Lucy’s post-sex bliss face.
“You bet your pretty ass it was,” Lucy said, kissing him soundly.
God, her life was amazing.