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"Sir Edward said it is possible I will only be able to sire an egg with another Chinese dragon," Temeraire said, sounding more offended by the idea than disappointed. "He said there has never been a successful cross between a western dragon and an eastern dragon." But he perked back up at once. "He did tell me quite a lot about breeding."
Dragon biology, and in particular Temeraire's own, was one of many questions Laurence had not been able to answer, but one of fewer that he did not know how to research. It was shockingly difficult to find books on anything related to dragon husbandry—and then, upon reflection, of course, not so shocking, as each nation guarded its dragon lore as jealously as the military secrets they were. (Temeraire would no doubt have something biting to say about knowledge of his biology being treated as any sort of currency.) Laurence was delighted Temeraire had finally found a worthy source, since he had not been able to.
Temeraire went on to describe in great detail how the Aerial Corps had perfected the logistics of breeding, accounting for the various breeds' space, temperature, and nesting preferences. Laurence found he had kindled something of a sympathy interest in response to Temeraire's own, and though the evening was aging, he listened intently. There were a few dragons who would not tolerate human interference with the incubation process at all, despite a host of young cadets trained for the job and determined to climb the ranks, but this was an individual eccentricity rather than a heritable behavior. Temeraire explained how some breeds, usually ones from the more extreme climates, had seasons, while others were capable of reproducing year round.
"I'm a continuous breeder," Temeraire announced with pride. Laurence had some trouble swallowing this particular term. "Now that my ruff has come in, I could sire an egg whenever I wished to." The aforementioned ruff flared out and Temeraire arched his neck prettily.
Laurence chuckled. "And here I thought it was Maximus I had to worry about corrupting you."
Temeraire snorted. "You humans do not seem all that much better at controlling yourselves. It is not as if I have to go see whores."
Laurence stifled a smile. He did not correct Temeraire.
"I do not mean you, of course," Temeraire said, turning to side-eye Laurence, who sat leaned against his obsidian belly.
Laurence let the smile escape. "I hadn't thought of it, my dear," he assured Temeraire, reaching up to stroke over his great head and down his neck, over the ruff.
"Sometimes I do get quite excited, though," Temeraire said peevishly as the ruff gave a belated shiver. "It can be very distracting. Sometimes I think… it might be nice…"
Temeraire's eyelids drooped for a moment. Then they snapped open again and he glanced back at Laurence. "But of course, I would have to go to China."
Laurence thought this was an attempt to dismiss the subject, but mostly it inspired pity. He raised his hand to pat Temeraire's side behind him. Temeraire inched his great head unsubtly closer to Laurence, who smiled indulgently and began to stroke his slightly iridescent nose. Temeraire leaned into the touch and presented his ruff for more petting. Laurence obliged.
The spined frill was still novel and unfamiliar. As it smoothed back against Temeraire's neck and then fanned back out, Laurence was reminded of a cat's expressive, attentive ears. The membrane itself was rougher than it looked, but paper-soft. It felt very much like the velvet of Temeraire's wings when furled and loose.
The ground under Laurence's feet rumbled with Temeraire's booming purr. He snatched his hand back in horror, and Temeraire's eyes snapped open. "Laurence?" he asked, almost apprehensive.
"Forgive me," Laurence managed weakly, his face warm. He opened his mouth to say he had forgotten what effect this kind of treatment had on Temeraire, but he found that was not entirely true.
Temeraire tilted his head to get a better look at Laurence. "Why are you apologizing?"
"It is not important, my dear. Pray do not think of it."
Temeraire turned his head further to level the full weight of his gaze on Laurence. His massive slit pupil darted around Laurence's face like he did when he was trying to make sense of the finer points of human body language. Temeraire widened his search, looked Laurence critically up and down, and quickly located the source of the disturbance. "Oh, you are excited!"
"You needn't speak quite so loudly, Temeraire," Laurence said faintly.
"Why not?"
Laurence sputtered. "I do not need or want to share that information with the entire company."
"Why are you excited?" Temeraire asked, to his credit in a softer voice.
"Well—er, you see, it is a natural bodily reaction to—"
"I know what an erection is, Laurence," Temeraire said impatiently, although there was a note of pride in his voice. "But Maximus told me that men only get them when they are excited."
Laurence resolved to speak to Berkley about what his dragon relayed to Temeraire of their more vulgar personal conversations.
"I assure you that is categorically untrue, my dear," he managed finally.
"Oh," Temeraire said, curiously disappointed. "Then it isn't true that your penises are out all the time?"
"Er," Laurence said. "No, that is true." He very much did not like talking or indeed thinking at all about his penis and Berkley's as a collective.
"I want to see it," Temeraire said. He nosed between Laurence's crossed legs, ungentle purely by virtue of his sheer size and strength, and Laurence went rigid at what felt exactly like a clumsy, enthusiastic groping.
"Temeraire," he gasped.
Temeraire froze, but he did not withdraw. "Oh, Laurence, I haven't hurt you, have I? Maximus also said they're very easy to damage."
Laurence chuckled, affection putting out both exasperation and anxiety. "I'm perfectly alright." He stroked his nose fondly. "Temeraire, I know you are skeptical of the concept of modesty, but one does not generally ask that of another unless they are…." He trailed off, unable to find a word that didn't describe their own relationship.
"I'll show you mine," Temeraire offered. "I do not mind." He raised a tucked wing to nose between his legs, which Laurence watched with no small amount of horror and perhaps a little awe, at very close range. "But it only comes out when I am very excited." His ruff flared convulsively, his tendrils twitching as if they were reaching for something. "Like when you pet my ruff." He gently wiped his nose, cheek, and neck against Laurence's frozen, outstretched hand, for all the world like a gigantic cat, and a ground-shaking purr rumbled through Laurence from all sides.
Laurence was mortified by that memory still, but something else, just as hot and thick as shame, pooled in his belly, as he watched a newly swollen slit across the base of Temeraire's tail begin to pucker outward. Laurence was acutely aware of his own body responding to this display as he watched something as pink-red as Temeraire's tongue peek out of the slit. Temeraire licked it as if to coax it out, and his cat-rough tongue dragged it into the open air. Laurence fought the absurd urge to cross his legs.
Temeraire bumped his head plaintively against Laurence's shoulder, and Laurence mutely raised a hand to trail it lightly down one of the spines of his ruff. The spine shivered, a surprisingly powerful twitch that swatted at his palm, and Laurence watched, awe nearly outweighing the horror this time, as another not-tongue pushed out of the slit, both of them bucking to Temeraire's pulse.
"Good Lord," said Laurence. "Two of them. I had not realized…"
"It is only one penis, Laurence," Temeraire said, in the patronizing tone he used when his own understanding of a subject outstripped Laurence's own (as happened more and more often recently, particularly with mathematics). Temeraire looked down at his cock with an air of pride as it came steadily to full size under Laurence's attention to his ruff. The longer Laurence watched, the more he came to appreciate the magnitude of their difference in size. Temeraire's eyeball was larger than Laurence's skull. One of his claws could have replaced the ceremonial dagger Laurence wore on his belt on special occasions.
And his penis— one half of his penis—was roughly the size of Laurence's thigh.
"Oh, Laurence," Temeraire purred, leaning into the idle petting. A petulant note crept into his voice. "Please."
Laurence petted the edges of his ruff, let the spines hit his palm and bend like reeds as his fingers stroked the velvety membrane between them. In this way he discovered that the underside of the shivering membrane was possibly even more sensitive. Temeraire made a noise Laurence had never heard before, a sort of echoing chuff that started in the barrel of his chest and rumbled to a halt between his teeth. It was extremely endearing, and thunderous in the still night air.
"It's alright, my dear, I'll—" What on earth was he to do? What should he do? Laurence hadn't the faintest idea. Surely… pleasuring his dragon (even the words sounded absurd in his mind) was a breach of propriety, to put it mildly. Then again, Temeraire always had shown the uttermost disdain for propriety for its own sake, and for once, Laurence agreed with him. "I'll take care of you," he finished softly, pressing his forehead to Temeraire's brow, watching his huge eye roll under a flickering third lid. "But you must do your best to be quiet."
Temeraire nodded with a rumble, and Laurence stroked the tip of his nose. Without any particular apparent intention, Temeraire opened his mouth and licked up around Laurence's hand, his tongue a startling brand of wet heat across his knuckles. A shiver fought its way up Laurence's spine, and he could not tell whether the figurative warmth in his chest or the more literal flash of heat in his gut was stronger. Temeraire's tongue was slender, proportionally, but still broader than Lawrence's fanned fingers. He shivered as the rough, wet muscle dragged over Laurence's skin before the forked tip disappeared between his jaws.
Laurence got unsteadily to his feet and firmly ran his hand up Temeraire's neck like he would a nervous horse. He combed his fingers through Temeraire's semi-prehensile whiskers, and the dragon's belly groaned and creaked like the hull of a capsizing ship. It was a moan, Laurence realized, and he couldn't help but respond with a breathy little noise of his own.
"You are such a magnificent creature, my darling," Laurence murmured. Temeraire's neck arched and his ruff blew out like tent flaps snatched by the wind. Laurence smiled, endeared beyond words by his vain little creature. At a scraping sound, Laurence looked down, and saw that Temeraire was tearing the rocky earth under his front claws to shreds.
"Are there any other places like your ruff that feel good to touch?" Laurence asked. He always had been fond of foreplay, and he was not ashamed to admit that he was abjectly terrified of the dripping, two-headed monster between Temeraire's legs. (Terrified, and terrifically aroused.) He slipped his fingers under Temeraire's ruff and softly rubbed at the membrane where it met his armored hide.
"Oh, Laurence," Temeraire rumbled. "Please touch me." He raised his hind leg, though it was certainly not in the way. His tail thrashed like a stranded fish. "Laurence, I will do anything." His voice was low and soft, but strained with the effort to keep it that way.
Laurence swallowed nervously, but Temeraire always had brought out the bravest in him. He kissed Temeraire's nose, and flattened one palm against his polished, heaving side. His palm slid almost frictionlessly down Temeraire's broad, flat belly scales, and finally came to a stop near the slit from which the dragon's cocks jutted expectantly. "Pray tell me if I do anything you don't like," Laurence said. "Or anything you do like."
"Laurence," Temeraire said tightly.
Laurence took one cock clumsily in both hands and squeezed around the middle, not unwilling to try but truly at a loss. Temeraire blew out a breath, his nostrils flaring, and raked up another paw full of earth. To Laurence this looked like a positive reaction, so he did it again. He adjusted his grip; Temeraire's cock was large enough to be quite unwieldy even if it were not slick all over. And then there was its tendency to pulse stiff in his arms like a massive fish trying to thrash free of Laurence's grip.
Laurence realized Temeraire was watching him very intently, even his earth-rending frozen. "I think I should like it very much," he began, and then paused, as if he was not sure if he was saying the right thing. "...if you would lick it," he finished, his voice quiet but very intense.
Laurence was relieved to stop guessing, so he swallowed his trepidation and let Temeraire's massive, twitching cock slip through his hands until he cupped the tip of it in his palms. He licked delicately at the massive blunt head, and paused thoughtfully. Then he bent his head to suckle at the tip, intrigued and aroused by the sweet taste on his tongue.
Temeraire rumbled and shook around him, but Laurence couldn't bring himself to shush his dragon again, not when he was so clearly beside himself with enjoyment.
There was a divot in the crown of Temeraire's cock where the sweet taste was strongest. Laurence's pointed tongue fit into it perfectly, and more of the delightfully sweet precome coated his tongue.
"Laurence, the other—please," Temeraire begged, and Laurence took his other cock in hand without letting go the first. He leaned in to worm his tongue into the tip of the second and a torrent of liquid exploded past his tongue, filling his mouth so fast Laurence choked. Temeraire kept coming—for that was certainly what was happening, although he had clamped his jaw shut and was shaking his way through it instead of keening like he clearly wanted to do—after Laurence reared back, sputtering, and an improbable amount of come drenched his chin, his neck, his undershirt.
"Oh, Temeraire, my dear," Laurence said, quiet and overawed. "What a lovely creature you are." Temeraire's ruff continued to flare in pulses for several seconds before his whole body relaxed abruptly in a wave, rippling from tail to head. Laurence found himself abruptly with his arms full of Temeraire's purring head, and he staggered to his knees under the weight of it.
"Oh, Laurence ," Temeraire said drunkenly. "That was so very much better than rubbing against a rock."
"I should hope so," Laurence chuckled, but he was pleased—relieved, even. He traced the jigsaw lines of Temeraire's meticulously arranged facial scales. "I am very glad," he said in a different tone, softer and more serious. He petted the perfect mosaic of Temeraire's nose for several minutes as the dragon's breath slowed. He may have stolen periodic glances as his dragon's cocks slowly withdrew into the slit, and soon Laurence could not even make out the seam in his scales from which they had emerged.
Temeraire at last raised his head, blinking sleepily as if he'd just had a particularly large meal. He examined Laurence closely as if ensuring he had not been too demonstrative with such a fragile little creature as his captain. Laurence found this as amusing as he did endearing. Logically, he knew very well that Temeraire could do him immense harm even on accident, but his trust in the dragon's care for him was ironclad.
"You are alright?" Temeraire asked, almost timid, as he sniffed delicately at Laurence's drenched shirt. Laurence realized abruptly that the night was coming on, and although it was pleasantly warm if one's clothes were not soaked, he was starting to shiver.
Getting to his feet, he peered over Temeraire and around them, and, satisfied that no one could see them, began to open his shirt. He was intensely grateful that Temeraire's come was thinner and altogether more like water than his own, otherwise the process would have been considerably more unpleasant.
Temeraire let him strip his shirt off, but as soon as Laurence's chest was bared, he was right back to being huge and close and inquisitive. His breath fanned over Laurence's chest and renewed the wave of goosebumps, and his nipples tightened even more. This seemed to pique Temeraire's curiosity, and Laurence tried to remember if his dragon had ever seen him entirely naked before, or even without a shirt.
"I see why you wear clothes," Temeraire remarked.
Laurence was unsure whether to be insulted, so he laughed. "And why is that, my dear?"
"Well, you look very soft," Temeraire said hesitantly. He turned his head to look seriously at Laurence. "May I touch you?" he asked. "I will be very careful."
"You don't have to be quite so careful as all that," Lawrence chuckled, but he found that he wished Temeraire did not have to be careful. He thought of the tale of the king who had become a dragon. Maybe it was time to revisit that particular story during their evening reading.
He jumped with a gasp when Temeraire's tongue rasped up his chest, his head abruptly and utterly devoid of all organized thought. Despite Laurence's protest, it was nearly painful, his rough tongue tugging at the hair on his belly and chest, but then Temeraire licked him again, a broad stripe of stinging heat that this time covered his nipple. The breath Laurence had taken to protest rushed back out with a moan.
"Does that feel good?" Temeraire asked eagerly, the tip of his tail flicking like a restless cat's. He did it again to the other nipple, and Laurence choked out, "Yes."
Laurence's hands fell to his belt buckle, and Temeraire rumbled in agreement. His sides rocked like a storm-tossed boat before Laurence realized he was being cajoled to sit between Temeraire's forelegs. He obeyed shakily, leaning back against one massive shoulder as Temeraire curled in around him protectively. Temeraire continued to lick at exposed skin, carefully measuring Laurence's reactions to different touches. Every time Laurence flinched, he paused, and his next touch was gentler, until he was using just the forked tip of his tongue to raise goosebumps up Laurence's neck. By the time Laurence very clumsily managed to take his prick out, he was dripping all over his fingers.
"May I lick it?" Temeraire asked, in the studied calm of hunting mode. He had chosen a target and it had his full attention.
Laurence winced as the idea of Temeraire's tongue against his cock made his prick buck up against his belly.
"Does that mean yes?" Temeraire asked greedily.
"Yes," Laurence surrendered. "Yes, please. But do be—"
"I will be careful, Laurence," Temeraire huffed, rather too offended to be altogether reassuring. He nosed at Laurence's prick, and the wet warmth of his breath against it set it bobbing again.
Temeraire dragged just the tip of his tongue lightly up the underside of Laurence's cock, and Laurence clapped a hand over his mouth.
Temeraire froze. "Are you alright? Did I hurt you?"
Laurence shook his head faintly, but kept his hand sealed over his mouth as Temeraire ventured a slightly less reserved lick.
Good Lord, Laurence thought. The sensation of Temeraire's tongue against skin with no hair to yank on was—it was like nothing Laurence had ever felt. It was too much, too hard, too abrasive to make him come, but it boiled his blood and had his prick leaking down the underside. Temeraire spotted this and licked up the trickle of precome, and then paused. "That means I'm doing well, doesn't it?" he asked eagerly.
"My dear, you—you are doing spectacularly," Laurence said faintly. "No one has ever made me feel like this."
Temeraire pulled back to look at him, and Laurence let out an unsteady breath. "Don't you do this sort of thing with Captain Roland?"
Laurence's head spun for a long moment. "Temeraire," he said roughly. "I am very fond of the Captain, but—and you must never say this to her, you understand—I'm afraid what we have done behind closed doors is hardly worth mentioning compared to this."
Temeraire's ruff flared, and he arched his neck in a way that could only be described as smug. "Do you mean it?" he said, his voice shockingly quiet in contrast to the way he was puffed up like an angry cat.
"Darling," Laurence said helplessly. "I do not think I have ever said anything to you that I did not mean."
Laurence found himself with his arms full of purring dragon once more. He could not help but laugh, and pressed his forehead to Temeraire's brow, looking into one great eye. "My dear," he said softly, "I am very close."
Temeraire's ruff shivered. "May I watch you?" he asked, still curiously timid. His huge pupil flickered across Laurence's face, even though there was no possible way he could see clearly at this range.
Laurence's chest flooded with affectionate warmth. "Of course," he said softly. Even so, when Temeraire pulled back to watch him touch himself, Laurence felt himself flushing hot under the attention. It was far from a problem, but it meant Temeraire would not have long to watch.
Laurence hissed in ecstatic disbelief when his hand closed around his cock. He did not indulge himself often—there was rarely the time, or the privacy—and when he did, it was perfunctory, mechanical. There was none of this breathless anticipation that he could feel in Temeraire's every look.
This was something else. He watched Temeraire's unblinking gaze, watched his dragon tear up even more rocky earth with restless claws, and he watched Temeraire's ruff flare in sympathy every time Laurence took in a sharp breath or let out a soft noise.
"Laurence," Temeraire breathed. "Laurence, I think it is you who are the magnificent creature."
Laurence came, gasping his dragon's name and spattering the scored earth with yet more evidence of their passion.
Temeraire waited until he was quite finished before nuzzling him so enthusiastically that Laurence worried for a fleeting moment that he might be crushed between his nose and the wall of his chest. "Thank you, Laurence," he rumbled. "I liked that very much."
Laurence could barely speak. Fortunately (and sometimes unfortunately), Temeraire had not run short of words since he was a very small hatchling. "You are very beautiful, for a human," he said thoughtfully, his breath ruffling Laurence's hair like a breeze.
Laurence managed a breathless chuckle. "Mind who you say that to, or you're likely to seduce the whole covert."
"Laurence," Temeraire said patiently, "I do not care to seduce anyone but you."