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Taking a Break

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The click click of talons on fine tile alerts Balthazar to an impending visitor. There was a time when Sibyll’s approach was near-impossible to detect, old habits of stealth hanging about the owl even as he learned to think of the palace as home.

Most days, the dragon would be glad for the visit. Most days, he isn’t up to his horns in paperwork.

The door opens, and he’s about to tell his husband that he’s very busy and to please come back later, darling. Then a gentle pinch, accompanied by a low, kissing sound, finds his cheek and his resolve leaves him.

“It’s my concerted opinion that you are working too hard.” The owl nips his cheek once more.

“Sibyll, you know as well as I that these reports and plans require my attention.”

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.”

Balthazar finally turns his head, meeting his mates eyes, “which means you cannot be in here, as you are so captivating that you steal away all my attention.”

A throaty, perturbed chirp as his husband spins away, resting against the desk and glaring at him, “I don’t know whether to be annoyed at your resistance or flattered by those sappy words.”

“I would prefer the latter.”

“And I would prefer you not work yourself to the bone. Half of this is nonsense anyway.” He flicks a messy pile of papers with the tip of his wing, frowning in the way that makes his wrinkles stand out rather charmingly.

“Sibyll-” He reaches for a pen, only for a wing to block his way.

“You. Are taking. A break.”

“I need to get this done.” He lets out a low chuckle as the wing slaps his hand away. It’s hard to be annoyed with the interruption when it’s coming from the person he’s been daydreaming about for the last three hours.

“You need to de-stress. You tossed and turned so much last night you knocked me out of bed. Twice.”

“Apologies.” He stands, puts on his most innocent smile, “come here so I can make it up to you.”

Sibyll narrows his eyes, but steps forward all the same. Balthazar reaches down, brushing the soft feathers of his cheek. The owl tilts his chin up, cooing again as Balthazar pecks him on the beak.

Then he squawks, indignant, as the dragon puffs smoke in his face.

“You’re perilously close to losing a finger.” Sibyll sneezes, the sounds incongruous adorableness making Balthazar laugh all the harder.

“No, I am not. You are too fond of what I can do with my fingers.” He tries to embrace the owl with a playful growl, but he slips out of reach and behind him.

“You’ve become cocky in your old age. I ought to take a pinky for that.”

“You seem certain you can best me.”

“Because I can.” Sibyll harrumphs, staying in his blind spot. His retort dies on his tongue when skilled fingers stroke his tail, rubbing the top fondly before gliding beneath.

Heat instantly spikes through his stomach and he hiss with pleasure, tail arching to allow his mate better access.

“See?” A raspy chuckle, “a little petting and you fall at my mercy.”

Balthazar gets a hold of himself long enough to poke Sibyll in the leg with his tail, “Be nice, or I will hoist you over my shoulder again.”

“No, I don’t think you will.” Three fingers press into his scales, sliding up and down in lines on the underside of his tail. He grunts, braces his hands on the edge of his desk as each touch sends a fresh wave of delight sparking up his tail and into his spine.

Sibylls left hand joins his right and he takes his time dragging them from the very tip of his tail to the base, squeezing when he reaches it. He rubs his hand in slow circles, rests his cheek on Balthazars back, petting his wing and reaching around to stroke his sides and belly.

“Now will you take a break?”

“Uh huh.” Balthazar rolls his hips, hoping to entice his husband to move his hand lower.

“Good, how about w-”

Footsteps down the hall, and a hand on the doorknob.

Balthazar sits down in a hurry, grabbing the nearest report as his husband disappears from sight.

“Your highness?”

“Yes?” He replies as airily as he can manage.

“The council is still awaiting your signature on that report.”

“Ah, yes, of course.” He plucks the signed paper in question from the bottom of a pile and hands it to the page.

“Thank you, your highness.” He bows and exits. Balthazar cocks his head, waiting until the footsteps are no longer audible.

“That was a bit much, was it not? You are my husband, they would not think it amiss if you were visiting my office.”

“Old habits die hard and all that.” Sibyll reappears, “and I told you that door needed a lock.”

“Point taken.” Balthazar holds out a clawed hand, “as was your earlier point about my needing a break. Will you join me for a walk in the gardens?”

Sibyll clicks his beak once in thought, then takes his hand.


“I thought I had seen every inch of these gardens, but this does not seem familiar.”

“I found it while familiarizing myself with the grounds.”

“Before or after you tried to assassinate me?” Balthazar loops their arms together

“I choose not to answer that. The point is, I found this spot to be well-secluded, perfect for when I need to get my thoughts together or a certain dragon will not leave me to finish my chess problem in peace.”

“It is a two person game, Sibyll.”

“I set out those scenarios specifically so I can learn to beat trickier arrangements of the board without distraction. And you, my dear, are very distracting.”

“This from the owl who came in and spread his dashing wing in front of me until I paid attention to him.”

“That was for a noble cause.”

Blue eyes glint inquisitively and he debates saying more. But this is Balthazar; one of the few beings he can admit such things to.

“I...missed you.” He mumbles the last part, cheeks heating beneath his down.

Balthazar grins, “What was that?”

“I missed you. You’ve been busy and I haven’t seen enough of you. Ergo, I missed you.”

They come to a stop and his husband unlinks their arms only to take his hand and pull him into an embrace. Black wings drape across his back as Balthazar purrs, nuzzling the top of his head.

“I missed you too, you secret sentimentalist.”

“Tell no one.” He looks up, attempting to glare, but loses the will to do so when he's enveloped in a loving gaze.

“As you wish. Instead, how about I just say I love you? I have said it too little today.”

“It was the last thing you said when you left this morning.”

“As I said, too little.” Balthazar is steadily coating his face in small kisses, “come, my dear, sit with me awhile.” The dragon sits on the soft grass, his back against a large mallow tree, and tugs the owl down to join him. In his lap. Sibyll contemplates protesting, then remembers that when they sit like this, Balthazar is all around him, warm and protective and loving. And so he nestles his back against his husbands broad chest with a sigh.

“Now, it seems you were angling for something in my office. Would you like to continue?” Claws drag lazily up and down his thighs while hot breath skates along his shoulders

“What do you think, your majesty?” The retort is perhaps brattier than needed, but that has never stopped him.

A low, clicking growl as arms wrap around his stomach and Balthazar rolls his hips.

“I think it has been far too long since I was inside you, my love. And that you look singularly handsome today.”

“Then what do you suggest?” He turns his head just enough to leave a lovebite on Balthazar’s chest.

“That you start by finishing what you started.”

“What--oh, oh I see.” He chuckles as a tail drapes across him. Sibyll takes a length of it in his hands, runs the very tips of his claws along the bottom. The reaction is instantaneous, Balthazar’s head tipping back with another growl as he grinds more firmly against him.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

“Really? I hadn’t the faintest idea. That was a joke.” Sibyll teases, which earns him a gentle bite to the shoulder. His cock perks up beneath his skirt, and he quickens his strokes in hopes of making Balthazar’s own cock emerge a bit faster.

“I, I do AH” he squawks as Balthazar jerks his hips hard enough to jostle him, “do love seeing you like this.”

“I, nnnffcuk, I love it too, oh fuck, Sibyll, ease off, I, I do not want to finish yet.”

“As you wish.” The owl dips his head, leaving a featherlight kiss on his tail before releasing it.

“T-turn around please.”

As he does, Balthazars’ cock catches along his thigh, making the dragon, clickgrowl even deeper.

“Do you want to fuck me, my love?” Sibyll coos.

“Yes, so very badly.”

“Lucky for you, I’m prepared.” He produces a tin from his pocket that to the untrained eye looks like nothing more than muscle rub, in case it falls out without him noticing. Of course, it contains the finest lube money can buy, as Balthazar is wont to dote on him in all aspects of their lives.

They’ve learned, in the most uncomfortable way imaginable, that trying to prepare Sibyll by using either his hands or his husband’s is not always painless, due to them both having claws. So he gathers up a handful and proceeds to slather it across the dragon's cock. Balthazar hisses with delight, hands resting on Sibyll’s hips. The owl wrestles with his clothing a moment until he can comfortably sink down to where the large, ridged cock presses against his ass.

“Yesss” he sighs, slowly rocking his hips, “that’s very nice indee-Ahfuck” his thigh twinges so badly he nearly loses his balance. Balthazar is there, as always, to steady him.

“Damn old age.”

“Here, I have an idea. Let me take most of your weight. Yes, there we go, try to relax.”

“You know I’m not the type.”

“Try for my sake.” Balthazar grins, toothy and flirtatious, and Sibyll sticks his tongue out in reply. All the same, he lets his legs give little by little until his husband is holding the bulk of his weight.

“I am going to set the pace, and I trust you to tell me if it is too much too quickly.”

The tip presses in and he moans when the first ridge soon follows.

“Mmmm, Sibyll, gods you feel good.” Wings wrap around him, as if the dragon is trying to keep every inch of himself in contact with him.

“I would feel even better if you went deeper.”

“In a moment. You know we have to go slowly.”

“I can take more, I want to.” He wriggles his hips, trying to get lower, only for clawed hands to clamp down on him.

“We are going slow until I am certain you are ready and that I will not hurt you. You are my greatest treasure, you know that.”

“Argh, why must I be married to an armored marshmallow!?” The owl thunks his forehead against his husband’s arm.

“You enjoy the sweetness, and I the chance to lavish it upon you.” Warm breath puffs at the feathers on his neck, and he’s torn between his innate argumentativeness and his unending love for his husband.

He compromises.

“I can take whatever you want to give, you have my word.”

“I just don't want this ending in another trip to the infirmary.”

“That was one time!”

“Two, actually.” He nudges his cock further, manages to get the second ridge in.

“The pointAHfuck, the point is, the number of times I’ve been fine far outweighs the number of times I haven’t.”

Balthazar levels him with a lovingly stern gaze, crows feet and laugh lines very apparent from this distance, “Sibyll, if you are patient and let me do this, I promise I will let loose later.”

“Very well” he grumbles, “you drive a hard bargain, you old lizard.”

Balthazar simply kisses his forehead, works his hips steadily as the next ridge, much larger than the two before it, pushes at his ass.

“Nnng, why does this one always give me trouble?” He tips his head back with a moan as the ridge almost pushes him open before retreating.

“As, fuck, as lovely as it feels when you tighten like that, it is not really helping our cause, oh, oh yes, that is much better.” The last syllable becomes a growl as he thrusts the ridge in, a raspy chirp escaping Sibyll as it does.

The next inch slides in easily after it, and he feels wonderfully full, the pull and push and drag of Balthazar inside of him filing every nerve with delight. When the second to last ridge bumps against him, he coos low in anticipation. They’ve only ever gotten that one into him once, after nearly two hours of preparation. Which means....

“Are you ready?” Balthazar cocks his head.


“Are you sure? I can take longer if need be.”

Yes I’m sure, now for goodness sake will you fuckMEohfuckme, yes, aboutAH, fucking time.” His whole body jolts as Balthazar pistons him on his cock, claws digging into his skin. It’s hard to get purchase on anything, but after several misses he lands his hands on the dragons' shoulders.

“See what, gods, what a little patience gets you?” Balthazar pants, grinning all the while and barely looking winded.

“A, a very large cock exactly where I wanted itfuck, do that again.”

His husband obliges, bending forward to messily kiss his face, “You look so wonderful like this, fuck, gods, it makes me wonder how come we do not spend, ohyestherewego, every moment like this.” He buries his snout against Sibylls neck, rumbling growl prickling his skin.

“Because you stubbornlyEEee insist on, on leaving our bed.”

“Who, who are you calling stubborn? You are the most stubborn creature I know.”

“I am not!”

A laugh, followed by another kiss, “Is it not stubbornness that causes you to try and take all of my at once?”

“No, it, it’s the desire for you to fuck me into the ground.”

A pause, his husband considering him carefully, “Are you certain that is what you want?”

“Entirely. AHoof, oh gods” he squawks as his back hits the ground, cushioned from hitting it too hard by Balthazar’s arms. His cock catches between their bodies, dragging against Balthazar’s ample belly and tearing a moan from his throat.

“Fuck, fuck” he clings to the dragon’s shoulders, body shuddering each time he thrusts as deep as he go, “I, I’m very close.”

Good” he feels the deep, growled reply in his marrow, “that is what I want, I want to fuck you until all you feel is pleasure and all you know is my name.”

“Balthazar, please.”

“Please what, my dear?”

“Please, please, I want to cum, just, just a little more ahnnnnnnnnnnnfuck.” He spills between them, whimpers as Balthazar vigorously pounds into him, smearing spend across them both.

“Gods, Sibyll, you are amazing, fuck, fuck, I love this, love you, that is it my sweet mate, hold out just a little longer.” He grunts, pushes deep enough that the larger ridges shoves in, Sibyll crying out in pleasure as it does, “that is it my wonderful one, taking me so well, gods I love you, gods, gods, gods.

Sibyll arches, gasping, as Balthazar cums, the sensation still wonderfully novel after all this time. The dragon pants, clinging to him and rumbling his name as he softens and pulls out, cum dripping down Sibyll’s leg and onto the grass beneath them.

The dragon rolls them twice, so they’re side by side but clear of the mess.

Well, almost clear. The gold dust his husband loves wearing is now all over his feathers, and he poofs up, trying to shake it loose.

“I forget about this every time, and every time I come away looking like a coin.”

“A hazard of letting a dragon fuck you.”

“Making a mess of my magnificent plumage.” He grumbles. Balthazar rumbles out a laugh, marking his chin across the top of Sibyll’s head.

“Gah! You’re spreading it around.”

“I think it looks rather nice on you.”

“You would, you sappy dragon.” He turns, kisses his cheek and neck softly.

“You love me for it.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Come, while that was a fairly short bout, I suspect your legs will be sore very quickly.” Balthazar sits up with a groan, stretching his wings, “and I am not done looking after you.”

They make it back to the castle without being seen, and once they’re in their chambers Balthazar sends word to the kitchens for food. Then, he starts the water in their tub big enough for two and pours in the bathpowder, a smell of citrus and honey wafting through the air. There was a time when Sibyll would protest that he could draw his own bath, thank you very much, but how can he deny his husband the chance to dote on him once more?

Balthazar helps him into the bath, waits until their food has arrived to join him, the plates within reach of the obsidian tub. Gold flakes swirl in the warm water as the dragon slides next to him, their differing heights meaning most of Balthazar is still out of the water. He retrieves a piece of toast with salmon atop it, holding it out to Sibyll. The owl opens his beak, let’s him feed the toast to him, “mmm-ing” happily as he crunches it.


Balthazar grins, indulgent, and feeds him another slice. When that’s finished, the dragon pats his lap, “let me rub your legs.”

The owl props his legs in his husband's lap, letting out a throaty coo as he rubs his thighs, the twinges and tension melting away with each touch. Dimly, he's aware of Balthazar speaking, telling him the ins and outs of his day. He listens as best he can, hoots or coos to let him know he's paying attention. Gradually, Balthazar gently maneuvers him so he can lather up his back and belly, scritching at the lower layers of down that seldom get such attention. Even his wounded, long-lost wing receives tender touches.

"You need to rinse a bit."

Sibyll nods, lets him dip him backwards to wash the soap from his back and dump handfuls of water down his chest to clear the lather. When he's upright, he shakes his head to remove some of the water, then murmurs, "your turn. Let me get that patch you can never reach."

Balthazar presents his back and Sibyll sets his hands in the spot between his wings, right at the center of his back. He scratches it carefully, grabs the loofah to rub away the bits of tree bark and grass that snuck into it. The dragon's purr fills the room, his reward for a job well done.

"I do love hearing you make that noise. I, I like that you're happy."

"You make me happy." Balthazar turns to smile at him, affection in every line of his face.

When they've soaked enough, Balthazar insists he wait until he's dried off so that the dragon can towel him down ("you just like ruffling my feathers" "perhaps"). As he drapes a dark blue robe around himself, he sighs, "I suppose now you'll return to work?"

Balthazar shakes his head, "Not just yet; I could use a nap with my husband first."

He guides them to bed, laying so that Sibyll is atop him, and drapes his wings lazily around his husband. For a moment all they do is kiss, as tender as the first time and as confident as the last.

As Sibyll nestles against him, he smirks, "told you you needed a break."

Balthazar rubs his back and replies fondly, "you know, my love, I do believe you were right."