Chapter Text
Scaramouche came home that day expecting it to be like any other. Mini Durin was away in Mondstadt getting his human form, and he was attending classes like usual. Albedo hadn't said how long it would take, but he was certain Mini Durin was in good hands. He had received a letter about a month ago stating that the process had been a success and that Durin—he just went by Durin now—would be free to travel as he wished after a month of observation.
He was very, very eager, said Albedo, to see his friend again.
Durin's own letters were ineligible, but Scaramouche still kept them tucked into the folds of his shirt. Soon, Durin would come to visit him, and Scaramouche would make him read them to him. Or at least, recite them. He was certain the dragon's memory could reach far enough. That boy, he never forgot a thing, did he?
When he unlocked his door and stepped inside, he was immediately attacked. Scaramouche's Vision swirled in his palm, but he quickly realized that the person hugging him... had a spiny tail that wrapped around his leg just as tightly as his arms. He grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back to look at him. "Oh, Mini Durin, you're—you're human!"
Durin did a little spin for him, showing off. "I'm not Mini anymore. I'm full-sized Durin now."
Scaramouche looked him over and frowned. "Hm, no. Full-sized Durin is too big. I'll call you Medium Durin."
The dragon laughed and lurched forward, but he caught himself, then leaned back slightly. "I... um... I've..."
Scaramouche took pity on him, opening his arms with a sigh. "Just this once. Come on."
Durin squealed and wrapped him in his arms tightly, and Scaramouche laughed as Durin even looped his wings over his shoulders. The dragon's tail was still wound around his leg. Durin was hesitant to let him go, and he finally settled on simply holding him in his arms. Just when Scaramouche was ready to pry him off, he noticed something wet against his neck. He hesitated, and Durin squeezed him tighter. "I didn't..."
"What was that?" Scaramouche asked softly.
Durin pressed his face into him more and sniffled. "I didn't think I'd ever get to hug you."
In the centuries he'd been alive, very few things made Scaramouche's systems lag. He had been perfected by the hands that created him and enhanced by the doctor, and as such, "short circuits" were never his problem. Except for now. For a moment, it felt like he was learning to breathe all over again. He finally cleared his throat. "You were all over me as a full dragon. Did you forget how you would curl up against me at night? Don't think I didn't notice. You're much heavier than a cat."
Durin laughed, but he didn't let go. "This is... it's different. I have arms now, I can actually... I can hold you now."
Scaramouche sighed and simply put his weight into the hug. If Durin wanted to hug him for hours, he could deal with it.
Instead, the dragon frowned and leaned away. He hoisted him up by his armpits, brows furrowed despite his chuckle as the puppet thrashed like an angry cat. "You're so light, Kotori, like a real bird."
"Put me down!" He snapped, and Durin complied with a little laugh.
"You really should eat more." Durin insisted. "You never eat enough."
"I am fundamentally and biologically different from a human." Scaramouche recited again, for the millionth time. "I don't retain calories. Eating is something I do for pleasure, not practicality."
"I bet you say that to all the girls." Durin teased, earning a long groan. Scaramouche moved through the little house to put his things away from class, and Durin padded along behind him. "Say, can I meet your friends? Since I'm human now, and all that."
"I don't have friends." Scaramouche glanced over his should at him. "Did you think I didn't want anyone to see me with a dragon?"
"Yes." Durin frowned. "You were always... different when we went out. Like you were embarrassed."
Scaramouche clicked his tongue, then turned around to look at him. Durin was floating cross-legged, holding onto his ankles as his winged idly flapped behind him. He crossed his arms. "I wasn't embarrassed, I just don't like people. I never wanted you to think I was ashamed of you."
Durin perked up. "So I can meet your friends?"
"What friends?" Scaramouche groaned, knowing everything he said went in one ear and out the other with this dragon. "You're my only friend, Mini Durin."
"It's just Durin, and that's not true! You're friends with the traveler and Paimon!" Durin insisted. "Besides, I'm talking about the fox, and the guy with the hood, and the pretty blonde who's always stressed out—oh, and the quiet guy who doesn't like anyone else."
"He likes them more than I do." Scaramouche muttered, but he was already planning their trip. "They're likely Lambad's Tavern playing cards. We can stop by after I show you the city, deal?"
"Deal!" Durin got to his feet, and Scaramouche barely had time to react before Durin hugged him again. He couldn't find it in himself to begrudge him the contact though. He simply pet his head like he used to, scratching behind his horns. He was surprised by the human reaction though, when Durin's mouth fell open and let out a quiet whine. He froze, and Durin nudged his hand with his horns. "Don't quit."
Scaramouche huffed and complied for a moment. "You're so spoiled. I'm sure those lazy drunks in Mondstadt love to pet your horns."
Durin's face fell, but he quickly tried to hide it. "Not really. They're all... still unsure. Miss Lisa is very kind though, and Klee likes to play with—I mean, um, I'm not supposed to say it like that."
Scaramouche shrugged. "Say it however you like."
Durin smiled, and Scaramouche let his hand fall to his shoulder. For a moment, they stood there as Scaramouche traced Durin's new face with his eyes. He'd have to scold Albedo for being so careless. It wasn't right for someone to be so pretty. "Come on, let's go look around."
He jolted, then nodded quickly. He side stepped Durin and started for the door. He pulled his hat down to shield his face just a bit. "He had no business making you so tall."
"You're just jealous." Durin bumped into him, hat and horns clanking slightly.
Scaramouche hummed in response and held out his hand. "Don't go running off, okay?"
Durin's grin grew even wider as he snatched up Scaramouche's hand and began to drag him through the city.
+++
Scaramouche regretted everything when he found the quartet at their usual table in Lambad's. He looked at Durin pleadingly, but the dragon only excitedly tugged on his hand, so Scaramouche swallowed his pride and walked over. "Hey... so... this is Durin."
The four of them looked surprised, and then Cyno snapped his fingers at Alhaitham. "It's your turn."
Tighnari glared at him, then stood up to greet them. "Hey, Hat Guy. Hello, Durin, I'm Tighnari."
"You're friends with Amber, right?" Durin said quickly. "She's in town too! Well, actually she's in Gandharva Ville, she stopped to visit someone, but I just couldn't wait to see Kotori again—"
Scaramouche jerked on his arm slightly and shook his head in a warning. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, Tighnari and Collei live together. He teaches her, I think."
"Oh, would you teach me too? Miss Lisa helps me a lot, but I think she prefers napping to lessons." Durin frowned, and Scaramouche just looked expectantly at Tighnari.
The latter was saved by Cyno tugging on his sleeve. "It's your turn, Nari. Invite them to play."
"Oh, of course, would you like to play?" Tighnari stepped aside to let them see the table.
Scaramouche slapped a hand over Durin's mouth before he could answer. Durin mumbled in muffled protest, but he didn't try to move his hand. "We'll just watch, if that's okay."
Tighnari nodded, and he sat down to take his turn while Cyno and Kaveh brought over two more chairs. Durin watched intensely as the game progressed, until finally, Kaveh's curiousity beat him out. "So, Durin, right? How do you know Hat Guy? You're from Mondstadt, aren't you? That's a long way to go to visit someone—oh, I'm Kaveh, by the way."
"Kaveh is the one who kept dragging me out with them." Scaramouche said with a slight taunt, and Kaveh stuck his tongue out at him in response.
"Oh, well..." Durin hesitated, then looked at Scaramouche. "Should I tell them, Ko—H-Hat Guy?"
Scaramouche leaned back in his chair and shrugged. "It's your story. Tell it as you see fit."
Durin nodded, and he launched into his tale of Simulanka and his mother, and his life as an outcasted dragon. Scaramouche urged him to gloss over the details of him "saving" the little dragon, but Durin refused, telling it all as he pleased. "So, yeah! And my big brother—or little brother, I guess—Albedo made me this body, and he finally said I'm all clear, so I came straight over to visit K—er, Hat Guy!"
Even Cyno had set his cards down to listen, and by the end of the story, no one really knew what to say. Kaveh cleared his throat. "Well, that's... quite the story. I'm not surprised that our very own Hat Guy has a heart of gold, unlike some of you."
He glared pointedly at his roommate. Durin perked up. "Oh, no, that's my aunt! Uh... other mother? I'm not sure how she views me, actually..."
Scaramouche squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Aunt is simple enough for now."
Durin nodded, and the others were left staring at each other, wondering if they missed something. Cyno leaned forward. "So what do you plan to do 'Durin' your stay?"
Durin frowned, and Scaramouche shook his head. "He's not going to get your stupid jokes, General. It just sounds like you're bullying him."
Cyno faltered and glanced at Durin's worried face. He shook his head. "No, no, it's a pun. Puns are a play on words. I wanted to know what you plan to do during your stay, but your name sounds like during—Durin, during—so I just—"
"Anyway!" Scaramouche interrupted quickly. He put his elbow on the table to block Cyno's view of Durin and propped himself up to look at his friend. "Tell us what you've got planned, then. I know I'd love to hear it."
"Right! Well, I really want to try the food—Hat Guy said it's really, really good—oh, and I wanted to go to the desert too, apparently the sand is a lot different than in Mondstadt, but I don't know how. I mean, isn't it all just sand? Oh, and he said the Lokapala Jungle is really pretty at night." Durin finally paused to catch his breath, and Kaveh jumped in.
"How long will you be staying? After all, a trip to the desert is no small undertaking." Kaveh warned, glaring at Scaramouche for not making that clear. "It's dangerous out there."
"For normal people, sure, but I'm a dragon, and Kotori is—" Durin jumped when Scaramouche kicked him under the table. He faked a smile for everyone else, and Durin slowly backtracked. "Is a totally average person."
"A well-traveled adventurer." Scaramouche corrected with a scowl. He shook his head and looked back at Kaveh. "He'll be okay. We've got time to plan it properly."
"Yeah! I told Albedo I wanted to stay for a while, and he said that it shouldn't be a problem at all—as long as Ko—Hay Guy is okay with it." Durin nodded eagerly. "Oh, I also have a gift from the traveler, she asked me to give it to Miss Nahida when we—"
Scaramouche sighed, putting his head in his arm on the table. His cover was so well and truly blown, but he couldn't find it in himself to be mad about it.
Durin frowned. "Am I not supposed to say that either?"
"For a simple student, you sure have a lot of secrets, Hat Guy." Kaveh took an accusatory sip of his drink.
Alhaitham turned the page in his book. "Miss Nahida is more widely known as Lesser Lord Kusanali these days, or rather, the Dendro Archon. Most people don't get to waltz right up to her. Although of course, a friend of the traveler is quite the title."
Scaramouche squeezed Durin's hand to remind him everything would be okay. "I suppose we're lucky that it's only these four. They had a crucial part in establishing Miss Nahida as sovereign in recent years."
"Most of us." Alhaitham said, much to Kaveh's disdain.
Durin tugged on Scaramouche's sleeve while they bickered, and Scaramouche noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his face. "Is it... would it be rude to go?"
"You're doing well, Mini, are you sure?" Scaramouche glanced at Tighnari, wondering how he could get his attention without alerting the others. He wouldn't be able to tell if Durin had a fever on his own. His temperature gauges worked differently than humans'.
Durin nodded and whispered, "I don't feel good..."
Scaramouche helped him up. "I'm sorry, but we'll be taking our leave. Poor Durin has been traveling all day, after all."
The others nodded, and Tighnari offered to meet again soon while Alhaitham and Kaveh were locked in their bickering. Kaveh briefly stopped to wave, right after Cyno made another bad pun about goodbyes. Scaramouche didn't waste time with walking, instead scooping Durin right into his arms and flying them home. When they got inside, Scaramouche placed Durin on his bed and began looking for a cloth he could wet and place over his forehead. He tried to walk back to his desk for his pen and stationary, but Durin clung to his arm tightly.
"Please, don't go." Durin whined. "Stay—it's worse when you go."
Scaramouche knew it wasn't making sense, but Durin was desperate, so he did as he asked. He grew suspicious of him when he curled up, halfway laying on him, and his shivering stopped, but oh, what did it hurt? The little dragon was curled up against his side again, and if that was all he wanted, Scaramouche wouldn't hold it against him.
+++
When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was aware of two things. One, Durin was crying, and two, the poor thing was humping his leg like his life depended on it. Scaramouche jolted when he realized it, but Durin didn't stop. He only wrapped his arms tighter around his torso and began jerking his hips with more fervor. Scaramouche watched in shock as he felt Durin's hips sputter, and warmth spread on his leg.
Durin collapsed, asleep, against him. His chest heaved slightly, but the pain seemed nothing like it had been. Scaramouche took a moment to gather his thoughts before he pried himself free and rushed to his desk. Whatever was going on, it was clearly a side effect of whatever Albedo had done to him. Mini Durin never... He thought about the little dragon in his bed, whining when he realized there was no one there.
He scribbled out a quick letter, detailing his rapid decline and the... incident. He tried to avoid embarrassing the poor dragon, but Albedo needed to know these things. He settled on saying he woke up to Durin grinding against the bedding, and only then did his pain cease. There was no need for anyone to know that Durin had used him for this. He stamped the letter closed and rushed to the Adventurer's Guild. He had never been so grateful for the Fatui's greed for information until then. He quickly explained the commission to Katheryne, set the price as urgent, and rushed back home to Durin.
The sounds in his house made his head spin. He could hear Durin crying the moment he stepped inside, and then he heard him grunting. Frustrated moans poured out of his mouth, and Scaramouche frantically rushed to his side again. Durin was awake now, and he was panting. "Tso hot..."
Scaramouche didn't know what else to do but to start peeling layers off of him. Finally, he had Durin in his shirt and his underwear, and he moved back to get the wet cloth to wipe him down. Durin keened into the touch. "Hey, it's okay, I've got you. I'll take care of you, alright? Just try to relax. Tell me what's wrong. What hurts?"
Durin couldn't speak, but he grabbed Scaramouche's hand and pressed it to his chest. When Scaramouche was about to ask, he began to drag it down, lower, across his stomach and to—Scaramouche jerked his hand back. Durin wailed and clung to his shorts—it was the closest thing to hold.
Scaramouche's head was spinning. He tried to remain calm. It seemed to help when Durin... finished earlier, so it seemed logical to try that theory again. At least, it couldn't hurt. "Hey, it's okay, here, why don't you try to—"
Durin lurched forward then, and Scaramouche narrowly avoided being impaled by his horns. Durin pressed his face against Scaramouche's shorts, desperately inching his way toward the inside of his thigh. Scaramouche caught him clumsily and held him back.
"You can't do that!" Scaramouche scolded, but he was only met by more crying. Durin grabbed at his hand again and pulled it down to his underwear. This time, Scaramouche didn't pull away. He still believed this could help, but Durin was in no condition to help himself. He remembered then what Durin had said when they fell asleep.
It's worse when you go.
He had written him off then, but now he leaned against the headboard and pulled Durin's back to his chest. He kissed his cheek and closed his eyes before he reached between the boy's legs to palm at his erection. Durin trembled in his arms, but his crying seemed to slow as Scaramouche moved his hand. Durin's cum from earlier made the whole situation easier, and Scaramouche began to rub his dick through his underwear.
His brows furrowed as he noticed something strange. As he rubbed him, he tried not to let his mind wander, but he soon couldn't help himself when he realized that Durin's horns and tail were not the only parts of him that did not resemble a human. The tail itself was curled around Scaramouche's arm as he moved it up and down, just loosely holding him. Scaramouche tried to focus on that, or on the stickiness on his hand, or on the way Durin's breathing became more steady the longer he did this to him.
Instead, he found himself curiously trying to find the shape of it, the size. He determined first there were two, second that they were not shaped like a human's would be, and finally, that they were a lot bigger than he would have guessed. He was jolted out of his discovery by Durin's body tensing, suddenly spasming and falling limp. Scaramouche felt his cum through his underwear, and he carefully removed his hand. He sighed in relief. That should do it for now, at least.
Except, Durin was rapidly recovering, and as such, the pains and shivers returned violently. He screamed out, curling in on himself. Scaramouche didn't know what to do. He shook Durin by the shoulders, but he was unresponsive for the most part. When he tried to move away though, Durin clung to him tightly, voice high and desperate. "Please, don't go. Kotori, I can't—I can't. I need you, please, Kotori—"
Scaramouche thought he was going insane when he tore himself free and started stripping out of his own clothes. He didn't like being naked for this anymore than he had to, but his dragon was begging for him to do something, and this was all he could think of. He didn't sit on the bed as he shoved two fingers inside himself, quickly moving on to three. Durin cried out again, and Scaramouche clenched his eyes closed, other hand moving to his clit.
When Durin screamed, Scaramouche decided to screw his own comfort. His body would recover from whatever he put it through, that much the doctor had proven, and right now, Durin was in so much pain... Scaramouche moved closer and pulled off Durin's shirt, then his underwear. He almost requestioned his decision to do this when he saw the two dicks plainly. The size and quantity was one thing, but did Albedo have to make them ridged?
He was close to backing out when Durin pulled him into his arms. Scaramouche squeezed his eyes shut and helped to guide one of Durin's dick into his hole. The feeling of Scaramouche's body around the head seemed to trigger something in the dragon, because he wrapped his arms around him tightly—pinning his own arms to his side—as he began to fuck up into him.
Scaramouche cried out as Durin forced his body to yield to him, and he regretted not properly stretching his cunt before this. Of course, he didn't think he'd ever quite be ready for this. He had barely adjusted to the feeling of being so full after so long when Durin began to thrust his hips in and out, demanding him to take it.
He tried to bite back his tears, but when Durin realized he could turn them, he couldn't hold it in. Durin flipped Scaramouche onto his back, and the pace picked up tremendously. Scaramouche's moans filled the room, echoing back at him in taunts, as Durin fucked his pussy open. Scaramouche could barely think with the way the ridges and bumps on his cock drug against his walls, so he didn't quite notice when Durin started to slow down.
"Kotori—" Durin gasped, and Scaramouche realized slowly that he was pushing past the pain. "Kotori, I need—I'm sorry, I don't—"
Scaramouche shook his head, reaching up to cup Durin's face and brush the tears off his cheeks. "Hey, it's okay. This isn't your fault, okay? Just—do what you have to do, alright?"
Durin's trembled as his hips stuttered. "I need—I need both."
It took him a moment, but Scaramouche quickly realized what he meant. His cunt flexed in anticipation, and Durin cried out at the intensity of the sensation. Scaramouche did his best to relax. One dragon dick was one thing, but two? Last time the doctor had put him through something like that, he slept for a week trying to rebuild himself. Oh, but Durin needed him. He would fix that problem when it arose.
Durin began fucking him again, crying in frustration as he struggled to compose himself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Kotori!"
"No, no, it's okay. You're okay. I've got you, see? I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to do something for me, okay? Can you do that?" Scaramouche shushed him, pulling his head down to pepper kisses on his cheeks. Durin slowly nodded, hips stuttering again. Every time he moved, he left Scaramouche biting back moans. He slipped one hand to Durin's and slowly pulled it down between them. He took a deep breath and pushed Durin's fingers against his dick, right where his cunt swallowed it up. "Push your fingers in too, okay? Ah—carefully! Be gentle, can you do that? That's it, just one at—ah, one at a time."
Durin continued to rock his hips, slower now as he worked his fingers in around his cock. Scaramouche let his head fall back into the sheets, and his exposed neck was practically begging for Durin to mark it with bruises. He left kisses all over him, until he had four fingers buried into Scaramouche with his dick. He whined, and Scaramouche knew he had already asked too much of him. He nodded absently, bracing for the pain.
"It's okay, baby, you can do it." Scaramouche mumbled breathlessly. "Put it in, but be gentle, okay? Slowly—oh, thank you, baby."
He moaned as Durin pulled out and pressed his dicks together. He pushed them back against Scaramouche's hole, very carefully pushing them both in. Durin's face was scrunched up in concentration and Scaramouche writhed in the mix of pleasure and pain. "Am I—am I doing good?"
"Yes, you are." Scaramouche moaned loudly when the stretch was too much, but he didn't stop his careful push. "So good, baby, you're so good."
Durin moaned against his neck, and he jerked his hips involuntarily at the praise. He whined again. "Sorry, 'm sorry..."
Scaramouche felt for how much was still outside of him, and his stomach churned when he realized Durin was barely even inside him. He took a deep breath. "Fuck me, baby, it's okay. I can take it—I promise. Let it go, you can do it."
That seemed to be the only push he needed for Durin to shove his dicks inside him completely, punching out a shriek from Scaramouche. He didn't wait, fucking him hard and fast before he could fully recover. Scaramouche clung to him, scrambling away despite himself. His hands found hold on Durin's horns, but he wasn't sure if he was using them to pull away or to keep him anchored to him. He had already resigned to taking the abuse to his cunt, but the stretch was so much more than he had expected, and the ridges on his dicks caught every senstive spot inside him until he was tender to the slightest touch. He managed to match a thrust or two, but he couldn't last.
Scaramouche gasped, trying to keep himself composed, to stay present. He knew in the back of his mind that he could shut this out. In any situation, Scaramouche could shut down and ignore whatever was happening to his body, but this... He was afraid of what Durin would think, if his body fell limp. Even then, he'd only done it when Dottore was there to collect him. He didn't really know what would happen without the doctor to turn him back on.
No, he had to focus. He had to stay present, in every rough, frantic, amateur thrust. His dragon clung to him in return, seemingly growing more and more violent. Scaramouche felt less like the boy's considerate friend and more and more like a chew toy in a dog's mouth the longer this lasted. He didn't know what to think when he felt the cocks swell. Scaramouche closed his eyes and braced for it, clinging to Durin's horns until his palms tore. Durin's hips lodged firmly against his skin, and a moment later, Scaramouche felt Durin's cocks twitching inside him. He heard something crack. The dragon rut his hips against him again, slowly, carefully, until Scaramouche had been stretched wide around him. It took him a while to register what had happened.
The base of Durin's cocks had swelled, and the dragon had fucked him until Scaramouche's cunt accepted it. Durin collapsed on top of him, shoulders heaving with the effort of breathing. He didn't try to pull out, but Scaramouche suspected that they were stuck on purpose—another highly concerning dragon inheritance. He didn't mind it, instead taking the time to slowly check his body. He wiggled his toes and his fingers, slowly moving each limb to be sure it still worked. He sighed in relief. He would hate to have to find a new doctor.
After a few moments, Durin began to move as well, slowly lifting himself up to look down at his friend. His eyes were wide. "Kotori, I..."
Scaramouche pet his head again, smiling as much as he could muster. Durin gasped in pain when Scaramouche's hand brushed his horn. His face fell, and he quickly beckoned him to lean down. "Come here, let me see—oh, baby."
"What?" Durin's voice was panicked, even as Scaramouche kissed his head. "Is it—what is it?"
"It'll be okay. Your horn is just... I think I might have held it too harshly." Scaramouche whispered, guilt sinking like a pit in his stomach, dragging down the events of the night like chains on Scaramouche's ankles. "It's only cracked. Tighnari can help us bandage it, okay? It'll be okay—oh, my baby, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."
Durin shivered as he nodded his head. "I—I like when you call me that."
Scaramouche hesitated. "Baby?"
He nodded again. "Your baby. It's not—it doesn't sound the same as when you call me a baby. Your voice is different—like you—like you mean it different."
"I—" Scaramouche shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Durin groaned and bumped his forehead to Scaramouche's. He had gotten better at telling when his friend was hiding things. Right now though, he was just relieved to have him. "Thank you, Kotori."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Scaramouche repeated, and he noticed his own legs were still wrapped around Durin's hips. His eyes trailed to his tail, to where his scales began to climb his spine. Scaramouche had scuffed his heel against them. He supposed that—that, and his cracked palms—would be his reminder in the morning of what he had done. The excuse he'd given himself to get through it was wearing off; he was seeing the holes in it. He had stripped naked and climbed on top of the little dragon, so self assured it was the only way. Was he still that short-sighted? Albedo would surely think him twisted. The golden chalk prince would likely want him dead for this, and Scaramouche was beginning to wish he could have him that way. Little Durin, the dragon who cared so much that it tore him apart, who trusted him more than anyone ever had or ever would. Scaramouche felt filthy for thinking he had any right to help him. He felt filthy for even thinking he could be his friend. He had taken advantage of him, that's what this was. He was truly—
Durin wrapped his arms around him tighter, and Scaramouche felt his fingertips brush against his creator's mark before they dug in. The little dragon clutched at his skin like he could hold him together with his bare hands. His hands. Durin had talked about them before, as something he dreamed of. He had once made Scaramouche sit in front of him, flexing and bending his jointed fingers until Durin had made a note of every thin, almost invisible separation.
Not even the doctor had ever admired him so innocently.
"I'm—I'm so sorry I hurt you."
Durin's voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like he had slapped him right across the face. It hurt worse than anything else Scaramouche had felt all night, to hear his dragon begin to cry over him. Scaramouche shushed him, hands brushing through his hair again, more carefully this time. He held Durin just as tightly as always, as ashamed as he was of himself.
"Oh, D—" His voice caught in his throat as he remembered what the dragon had just said. He swallowed the guilt around the word. "Oh, my baby, it's okay. I told you, I'll be okay."
"But I still hurt you!" Durin cried out, leaning back to search his eyes for an answer. "I don't—I don't know why I did it. I just—it just hurts so bad, and you... you made it feel better, and I—oh, Kotori, I'm—please, please don't hate me. Please, forgive me, Ko—Kotori."
Scaramouche nodded immediately, trying to find somewhere he could put his hands to calm him down—his hair, his cheeks, his shoudlers—but nothing worked. He froze when he noticed that Durin was sweating again. He began to cry, and his dicks slipped out. Durin tumbled to the other side of the bed, a bundle of wings and tail. Scaramouche didn't know what to do except follow him—pry his way through his wings and pin him down by his shoulders. His voice grew harsher in his panic. "Is it happening again? Durin—listen to—Durin, is it hurting again?"
Durin could only manage a reluctant nod, eyes wet with his own guilt. For one bizzare moment, Scaramouche wondered if the boy even knew about sex. Who could have told him? Especially with his new body, Durin would have been traumatized if he'd done this to a human. Did that blonde bastard not even think to warn him?
He had to fight back every awful thing that flashed through his mind as he climbed on top of Durin. The dragon thrashed, kicking and protesting against him, but for completely different reasons than the puppet had done the same. Scaramouche blinked away his tears as he remembered himself, weak to the doctor's wishes. He tried not to think about the echo behind his voice when he leaned in close to Durin's face, voice stern. "Stop it—stop. I'm doing this for you, Durin. I'm trying to help you."
Durin's limbs went limp. Weak. His eyes traced Scaramouche's body as he panted. He watched, arms still curled against his own chest where Scaramouche had left them, as the puppet lined up his two dicks and sank them deep into his core. He whined and bucked his hips. Scaramouche finally sat still on top of him, trying to collect himself. It was easier now, after Durin had already ruthlessly opened him up. Honestly, he didn't know why the poor thing was so shy now. The damage had been done. He might as well see it through to the end. Either Durin would get this desire out of his system, or they would both die trying.
Scaramouche liked the lie enough to believe it. He began to ride him carefully, on his own terms. He could enjoy it more like this, really. His body could handle the rough treatment, but he liked Durin better this way, trying his best to behave, trying to be good for him. He shook the idea from his mind. It was best to focus on the moment—maybe even on finding his own release—before Durin inevitably grabbed his hips and began to fuck up into him like a doll.
A doll.
A pretty, compliant little doll.