Of course, I knew who Eagan Maverick was.  Who didn’t? It was pretty hard to ignore the rumours and disgusted glances people threw towards the guy, and where I felt pity, I also felt fearful.

Dragons are born huge, powerful and menacing after all, and here at Everlette Academy, dragons are allowed to enrol.  It is rare, since other students give them a wide berth and generally make their lives uncomfortable or even dangerous, but as a standard rule, the dragons are left to their own devices.

Eagan Maverick is the only dragon student here at Everlette, and as a final year student with excellent grades, has managed to acquire the status and ability to act as squadron leader, and given the opportunity to train other students to then form a tight knit regiment for an outpost at the border to protect the kingdom.  It’s a fine position to be a squadron leader. 

It comes with many benefits, and he would be able to command respect with his position, but looking across the hall, that respect looks more like avoidance and fear. 

“Emery Van Glau,” professor Oaklore announces, “Your application was accepted by Squadron Five leader Otto Rawcliff.”

My attention returns to the current situation. It’s the third year ceremony that sorts students into squadrons, and I’ve been dreading it.  I was not considered worthy enough to puy forth an application due to my background. Unfortunately, family and money get you far at Everlette, and I have exactly none of those things.  I’m an orphan, and despite my decent grades, I am expected to flow under the radar and take up record work in the towers, spending my life unseen and noting down the heroics of the world.  I’ve had my fair share of disgusted looks and people avoiding me due to my lack of social standing. 

Truth is, I’ve always wanted to fight alongside a squadron.  To have a makeshift family I could depend on and belong to.  It’s embarrassing. I’d never admit it to anyone.  I just want to belong somewhere.

Gritting my teeth, I prepare to let go of the hope I had been grasping to for the past three years, sending my gaze skywards.  Everlette halls boasts an impressive ceiling made entirely of intricate stained glass designed in swirling florals.  The sunlight casts a jewelled glow through the ceiling, illuminating us below in glimmering emerald, fuchsia and cerulean. The names are still being called, sounding far away and distant.  I was never really a part of anything here, and with no friends, family or hopes of entering a squadron, I will probably disappear and be forgotten by this place quickly. 

“Margo Earthen, Squadron thirteen, you have been requested by Eagan Maverick.”

My gaze shoots forward, crashing into my current reality of a hundred stares and my eyes locking with his. 

Me?

I straighten myself instinctively, a habit of mine when trying to appear worthy and confident and probably failing horrendously, but I step towards the stadium of stone where the squadron leaders sit. 

Why me? I think to myself quietly, wondering if someone was going to ruin my chances and declare it a mistake, Will I be okay? We’ve never spoken, or even crossed paths to my knowledge, and yet he requested me?

I am a good student. Nothing spectacular, but good.  I’d argue I belong on the stadium more than the students only in attendance due to financial influence, but I have to take what I can and work ten times harder just to proceed. 

Eagan Maverick gives me that chance.

I make it to the stadium and ascend the jagged steps, hearing the muttering and whispers start.  When I look up, I can almost understand why.  He’s huge.  He’s so much more prominent and threatening up close, with those shocking burgundy eyes that confirm his bloodline.  I swallow, feeling smaller by the second as I move to stand in front of him.  His eyes are observing me with cool calculation, as though trying to figure me out.

Remembering myself, I hold my hand out.

“Margo Earthen, it’s a pleasure to become a member of Squadron thirteen,” I say quietly, emotion threatening to creep into my voice.

I compose myself.

He has no idea how thankful I am for the opportunity. To get a chance.

His eyes flicker something I don’t recognise. I don’t know the guy at all, and I’m beginning to think he doesn’t show much emotion, just sharp observation and...dark aura?

His brow barely raises as though in question, and he takes my offered hand, shaking it firmly.  He dwarfs me, his skin hot against mine.

“A pleasure,” he says with a nod, and I’m struck by his word choice.

A pleasure?

I take in his face, his demeanour, my mind trying to grasp any understanding. 

Is this all because no one willing applied for his squadron, so he had to research and find candidates? If that were the case, his research led him to me.

Someone thinks I’m worthy, not through money or status, but my efforts.

I take my place beside him, brimming with emotion, and become more overjoyed as he had requested others too.

We’re all misfits, I think fondly, observing my newfound makeshift family.

We’re the smallest squadron on the stadium, consisting of five compared to the largest squadron of thirty-two.  My gaze travels to the other three members of squadron thirteen.

There’s Linden, a short but fast guy with fair features and a stubbornly set jaw.  Axel, long with a bearish build and a shock of copper curls.  Then finally, Hugo, who sports a dozen scars drifting down his jaw and neck, and the kind of arrogance that comes with being difficult to kill.  I think briefly that I wish there was a female member I could try and befriend but dismiss the thought. 

I’m just glad to be here.

I don’t miss the way the guys peer over at me in quiet puzzlement, wondering why a short nobody is standing amongst them, but we all look equally baffled with how we got chosen to be here today. 

The ceremony drags on as they remind us of our new roles and expectations.  The sun is still blazing through the stained glass ceiling, throwing an amber shade aglow over Eagan.  It rather suits him, with his red eyes and black obsidian hair. I’m slightly startled by the realisation that if I don’t fixate on how dangerous and disliked he is, he’s undoubtedly handsome.  No one ever talks about that though.

His eyes snap to mine with arrow sharp precision, but he doesn’t say anything, just motions for me to pay attention, his hand swirling to direct me to turn my gaze the right way.  I do as instructed, my cheeks heating over being caught staring while thinking inappropriate things.

It’s not my fault he’s swinging my opinion of him, thus making it possible for me to admire him. 

Especially that arse, I think quietly, allowing myself to admit after all these years that yes, it is in fact a piece of art. Just as quickly as the thought slips free, I tell myself off, embarrassed all over again.

I fidget, annoyed with myself, and my gaze accidentally catches his again.  He seems to be deeply focused, his brow creased and mouth set in a firm line. I give a short nod, returning my gaze to the front.

I must not leer after my squadron leader, or gaze at his perfectly chiselled body and face, I chant internally, locking away the thoughts. I imagine tossing my obscene thoughts into a moat infested by crocodiles, focusing on the clumps of impure thought being munched at by a series of snapping jaws.  I press my lips together to keep from laughing, vowing to be a model student and dutiful squadron member. 

It’s not like I’m going to fall in love with the guy, but I still shouldn’t allow myself to get too caught up in his good looks.  I feel a twist of misery at remembering the two years of male students messing with me, thinking it hilarious to play with my feelings or to shout obscene things at me.  I cross my arms self-consciously, remembering how one particular student had pinned me down with a knife at my throat, high on the grandeur of being able to kill me and get away with it because I’m no one. 

Luckily, he had a change of heart and shoved me further into the mud, declaring me not worth it, but it messes with you.  I normally steer clear of guys as a general rule, but here I am as the only girl in my squadron.

Slowly, the hall clears, and we’re finally given permission to go to our new quarters as new third year’s. 

“I’ve heard we get the biggest wing because it’s furthest away from the other wings,” Linden directs at Eagan, his eyes focused and on edge.

Eagan nods.

“Most don’t want to get anywhere near me,” he responds dryly, “But it comes with some perks.  We have more space to train.”

“So, why us if you know that?” Axel counters, all hard burly muscle and hard set stare.

Eagan meets his stare, indifferent to Axel’s accusation.

“Because I chose each and everyone of you for a particular reason.  You, I happened to choose because not only do you dominate in grappling and hand to hand combat, but you fight fair.  You also got a detention for fighting against four seniors, but it was for an honourable reason.  You have morals and value the things that matter.  We need that.”

Axel squirms at the high praise, and I can’t blame him.  This place is not known for compliments and smiles.  Praise is non-existent, and to hear it is uncomfortable but needed.  Axel becomes quiet, and Eagan turns his attention to Linden.

“You make explosives.  You’re small and fast with knives, but I also know that you have seven younger sisters that you’ve been protecting throughout their time here, especially recently.  How are your ribs?”

He looks pointedly to Linden’s ribs, and Linden splutters, his cheeks reddening.

“Hugo has expert sword control, and though his methods are insane, they work and catch people off guard.  Not to mention you’ve been donating most of your student loan to give back to the orphanage that raised you.”

Hugo’s eyes flare and his jaw twitches, but he stays silent. 

Finally, his gaze turns to me, and I’m stumped.  I don’t have family I protect or send money to. I don’t defend people in honourable ways.  I have had no one and protected no one. Shame swarms me.

“She’s been looking after dragon hatchlings since her arrival here, and they’ve imprinted on her, so that gives us five dragons.”

My eyes widen.

No one knows that.

No one.

I press my lips firmly together.  It was accidental.  There had been a thunderous storm when I had travelled on foot to the academy to enrol, and lightning had set fire to the forest.  Creatures were running away, but off the path, illuminated by flames, was a dragon guarding her nest.  I tried to get her to leave.  Tried to reason with her that her eggs could survive fire, but that she would not survive the lightning bolts tearing into the forest. I begged, and then cried over my failure as the lightning struck her.  Rain washed away the licks of lingering flame, and I buried her at her nest, convinced the eggs wouldn’t have survived either.  How wrong I was.

The lightning had hatched them. 

“You’re insane,” Linden breathes, “Real dragons? Not Dragon like Eagan dragon, but real- “

Eagan sighs impatiently. He must get this a lot.  Everyone knows that Eagan is a dragon morph if we’re getting technical, his bloodline blessed by an ancient dragon hundreds of years ago.  There are other races, but unlike dragon morphs, the powers are diluted. I wish they weren’t diluted currently, so I could blast Eagan out the ceiling with a torrent of water. 

“No one knows about them,” I bite out, anger flashing through me, “I rebuilt their nest elsewhere, away from the main path- “

“She was my dragon,” Eagan cuts me off, his face unreadable, “She wouldn’t let me near the nest.  I found her buried...then tracked down the new nest.  Eventually I realised it was you, and that you hadn’t notified anyone of their existence. You kept them safe.”

“But you want us to use them,” I accused him, my eyes glistening, “They’ve only just started to shed their juvenile scales...”

His eyes glimmer through his thought process, but his face is still impassive.

“They’re Lightning struck.  Made of lightning. Made for battle- “

“Wait,” Axel mutters, shaking his head, “How the fuck did you manage to hide a grown ass dragon near the main path?”

Eagan sighed again, somewhat disapprovingly of this line of questioning.

“She could camouflage.”

I shift, as that was something I hadn’t known six months ago, when I almost lost my mind over being unable to find them.  The hatchlings delight in hide and seek apparently. 

“You’re not free to use them as battle cattle,” I say firmly, glaring directly at Eagan, “I don’t care who you are, they’re babies.”

Axel shoots me an incredulous look.

“Yeah? And how big are these babies?” He challenges.

He’s got me there.  Dragons mature fast, but most are the size of horses at best.  However, my five are closer to the size of houses.

“If anything like their mother, huge,” Eagan confirms, but his tone is hard as he glances my way.

Way to go Margo, I think to myself, make an enemy of the hot Squadron leader why don’t you?

I can’t stand down though.  These aren’t my lives to risk, and they are still so young.  Eagan may have owned the mother, but that means nothing to me.  He hasn’t been there for the hatchlings.

“When they’re older and more established I may reconsider,” I tell him, not willing to budge, “But until then they are to be protected and allowed to grow and mature.”

Linden and Axel nod approvingly, which Eagan notes with narrowed eyes, but Hugo has his lips pursed.

“We still need to meet them though,” he shrugs, “If you do decide yes.  Better for us to know them than not.”

I bristle but can see his reasoning.

“I understand your point, but I am... protective. I need to settle into the idea.  I don’t even know you guys yet, and it’s a lot to consider, and...”

I drift off, thinking about the way the hatchling would love tormenting the four of them.  They love chasing, wrestling, nipping and hiding, and I can see how easily it could all work...it’s just about notifying the academy of the neighbouring five dragons. 

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“What will the academy think about it?” I finally finish, dread filling me.

The school has no official rules or regulations about dragons, but they do have rules mentioning weaponry, and it could be argued that is exactly what they could be. 

But they’re more like bratty puppies.

Eagan twists his mouth, as though caught between a retort and a smirk.  It’s an odd look.

“As per regulation that I have to follow as leader,” Eagan tells me firmly, “I have had to report it.  However I reported it to Professor Chambers, who took the matter to the high council to see that the dragons stay protected.”

I’m conflicted on whether to be thankful or not and settle on silently seething and wishing to scream at him.  Strange how my high of joining a squadron has sailed and now I’m wishing violence on Eagan and his...fucking indecently lickable biceps.  I lick my bottom lip quickly, dismissing the thought as I return my focus to his face.

Fucking gorgeous, arrogant, stubborn arse, I curse at him mentally, crossing my arms and openly glaring.

Axel whistles, moving awkwardly away and exchanging a concerned look between Linden and Hugo.  I feel bad for them seeing this argument when it’s not their fault, so I unwillingly school my expression into a less pissed off one.

“Moving on,” I say sourly, trying to restrain my tone, “What now?”

Eagan doesn’t move, his arms still crossed, and his eyes still fixed on me like a snake deciding on whether to strike or not. The Hall is beginning to empty now, and a curious nosy few keep glancing at our group, their expressions a mixture of disgust and intrigue.

“I’ll guide you to your new quarters.  Margo, you’ll be happy to know you have the female dorm wing all to yourself,” he says flatly.

I feel like he’s insinuating he’s glad I’ll be far away from him, but what do I know?

“Excellent,” I retort, “please lead the way.”

Eagan turns around and does exactly that, his pace a constant stride that eats up distance with ease.  I start to lag behind quickly, my legs short, and Axel takes notice and offers his hand.

I take it gratefully, wondering if it’s the big brother in him looking out for me and my little dainty legs.

“Let’s go, Stumpy,” he says playfully, “Or do you want a piggyback ride?”

I give him a flustered look, not wanting to be treated like a complete child.

“No thank you,” I say rather crossly, “And I am not stumpy.”

He looks me over briefly.

“Pocket sized,” he throws back at me, thinking himself hilarious, “Easy to throw.”

I scoff.

“And you’re an easy target to hit,” I fire at him.

He laughs loudly, causing the others to look back in bewildered surprise, but we all keep moving, leaving Everlette Academy and descending the rough stone steps to the twisting moss covered hillside with its winding path to our new dorms. We pass the other dorms, and I think of how each one has a different perk.  One has a huge library, another has a hot spring, and there are even rumours that one has a secret underground cave system that connects to the academy. The inside of the dorms is kept very private and secret.  I never thought I’d get to be in one, and I feel my heart squeeze in excitement over what it might be like.

My excitement churns into slow disappointment as we near the oldest, most rustic and uncared for building at the furthest reach of academy grounds.  It looks to be the corner tower of an old Fort, with a large scaling wall reaching north, and the other wall pointing at an angle east. It’s huge and casts a looming shadow in front as the sun sets behind it.  The grass is full of weeds, reflecting how derelict and barren the place looks. 

“It’s not pretty,” Eagan comments as he catches our expressions, “But this is not a palace.  It’s practical and fit for purpose, so we are safe. See those two pillars?” He asks, nodding towards the structure, “They’re protection shield projectors.  Strong ones.  No one can touch us.”

I glance at the odd curved stones sticking out the ground, looking eerily similar to tombstones.

“So, our dorm perk is...safety?” Linden checks, sounding unsure.

Eagan raises an eyebrow.

“Would you rather have your enemies be able to easily assassinate you as you sleep, because without those projectors, we’re fresh meat?”

Linden clamps his mouth shut, peering up at the fort with dismay.

“No... secret underground tunnel to a brothel?” Hugo pipes up, and then remembers my attendance, his cheeks reddening, “Or to a, um...marketplace?”

I narrow my eyes at him, and he shrugs.

“Girls like markets?” he says weakly in his defence, “For buying pretty things.”

I feel like rolling my eyes.

“Yes, pretty girls buy pretty things.  I just buy what I need,” I deadpan, trying to ignore how much I envy the pretty rich girls buying new cloaks, boots and hair ribbons.

Not that they do me any justice.  If Eagan is scorching hot as fuck, then I’m tepid swamp water.  Plain, boring and nothing good to explore.  Perhaps a chance of swampy drowning.

 Eagan looks my way, frowning as though I had just insulted him.  It must be nice to look good, even if that’s the only thing going for you.

His gaze darkens, and he turns towards the fort as though wanting to be rid of us.  Axel looks down at me.

“Is there something between you or summit? It’s like he’s constantly aware of you,” he whispers to me.

I almost choke on my own spit.

“In what world?” I hiss.

Linden shrugs.

“In a world where guys bully girls they like,” he offers plainly.

I wrinkle my nose, remembering exactly what it feels like to be on the receiving end of bullying, and finding none of it remotely close to being a one-sided crush.  It was just straight up hatred and desire to intimidate or worse.

“Not in a million years would Eagan Maverick like me,” I respond coldly.

I can fantasise all I want about his long strong legs and muscular physique, but giving myself false hope? No way.  I don’t have the emotional energy to fuck myself up that way.

“He’s a Squadron leader. He’s not going to act like anything else.”

Hugo seems impressed by my answer, as does Linden, but Axel looks at me with a shrewd expression I imagine his sisters receive a lot.

We enter the fort with a sense of trepidation.  The door hinges need oiling, as there’s a shriek of a screech as we open the door, and we grimace at the sound.  The walls and floors are all grey stone slabs, functional and dreary, decorated by dust, cobwebs and little to no lighting.

“This is the entrance, as you can see,” Eagan pipes up, appearing in a dark doorway from the shadows, “The first floor has the food court, the second has a study space, and then the top floor is for sparring.   North wall is for men, East for the woman.  Any questions?”

Hugo slides a finger across a dusty surface, and blanches when he pulls it back to inspect.

“Yeah, when the fuck was the last time you cleaned this place?” He asks, moving to a window, “The air in here is thick, how can you breathe, man?”

Eagan levels a cold stare at Hugo.

“Open a damn window if you’re that bothered,” he quips, but then settles, “We’re the last on the cleaning list.  This place hasn’t been used for some time, as its been used for book storage for the last fifteen years.  A clean team will arrive sometime this week.”

Hugo looks peeved by this, but sensibly shuts up when Eagan glares at him.  There are other things to consider that take priority, like people targeting us just because Eagan is a dragon.  Or other squadrons having more money, status and opportunity.  A better chance than us. 

Eagan sends us to explore, dismissing us but asking us all to return in time for dinner.  Axel immediately leaves for the sparring grounds on the top floor with Hugo, and Linden heads for the library, while I head towards the East Side, towards my new room.

Treading cautiously through the shadowed space, I draw a mental map of the old Fort, noting the strange narrow tunnels and winding stairs with a sense of puzzlement. The fort is much larger on the outside, but inside everything seems so narrow and twisting.  Breathing out an unsettled sigh, I open heavy doors to find complete darkness, stilling. Endless onyx stares back, eerie and silent.

“You took a wrong turn.”

I whip around, my throat strangling back a cry of panic, but I push it down, realising in the dark space that the voice belongs to Eagan.  He looks hesitant, but finally leans forward and closes the door.  As he moves in front of me, I catch his scent, surprised by how good he smells. I can’t quite pin down the scent, but it’s a greedy one, making me have to fight back the urge to lean forward and inhale.

“It’s my room, yours is over there, with the sign on the front saying ‘women’s dormitory,” he says flatly, gesturing towards a black door that blends into the wall and shadows.

Embarrassment creeps into my cheeks, red hot, and I avert my eyes.

“You said the east side is for women?” I accuse him, feeling unsettled.

It’s not like his room being at the end of the corridor is life-threatening or even a problem, but it means I’ll feel under surveillance.

“It has the biggest bed and a fireplace,” Eagan informs me, as if that explains everything, “Plus it’s closest to the emergency exit and links to the stairway that connects directly to the North side.”

So he can keep track of us, I think quietly, trying hard to dismiss the nosy voice in my head insisting I’d like to see his big bed.

“Your door was unlocked,” I state, “For all your enemies, I’d have my door locked.”

His lip twitches, but then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s got protective runes all over it.  If anyone tries to get through without my permission, they get flung to the other side of the corridor. Dead.”

My eyes widen.

“But they can open it?”

Eagan narrows his eyes, seeming to observe me steadily.

“People often get too impatient when they know they can open a door to then kill someone. They fling it open and start moving through without caution. Impatience gets people killed,” he tells me, head cocking to the side, “But you didn’t go through.  You stopped completely.”

“Yeah, because it felt dangerous.  Creepy.  It’s pitch black in there.”

His lips twitch into a ghost of a smile, something that unnerves me.

“You should make use of that good intuition of yours.  That cautiousness.  It keeps people safe.”

He nods over at my door.

“You have another hour before dinner.  Go explore while you can, or sleep,” he instructs.

I turn to leave, intrigued by what my new room will be like.  Academy rooms were small, narrow and shared amongst four other girls, but here I am the only girl.  I’ll be glad for the privacy and space. 

I catch another waft of Eagan’s scent and have to clamp my mouth shut when I realise what it is.

Pheromones.

He is emanating pheromones in heady amounts, which means only one thing, and one thing only, but for some reason I never expected it from him.

He’s in heat.

I look at him again, at the composure he carries, calm and collected, before narrowing my eyes on the way his eyes fixate on my mouth.  Dragons go into heat rarely, contrary to what people expect, as it only comes into effect when there’s a worthy partner, or to release excess stress from the body. I watch as his pupils dilate, and inch back instinctively.

“You’re in heat.”

His eyes snap to mine as if becoming aware of where he is. 

“You’re safe,” he informs me shortly, “I’m just out of sorts.  Nothing more.”

My chest clenches.

You’re safe.

As if I were ever in danger of enticing Eagan Maverick of all people.  Of all people, he would never invite me into his bed to satisfy his needs. 

I swallow back the surge of embarrassment.

“Secret is safe with me,” I say quietly, turning back towards my new room.

I feel like an idiot.  A pitiful fool.  I am not bedroom material.  I live in libraries and take walks in the woods to scavenge berries and herbs, but damn, sometimes I wish men found me attractive and desirable. That I did belong in a man’s fantasy where the sight of me sent him crazy.

I school my expression, trying to fight back my insecurities.  My lack of beauty, grace or charm haunts me, as well of my lack of wealth or status. 

I enter my new room in a hurried desperation to save face.  It’s a nice room, I suppose, but I can’t thoroughly appreciate it when I’ve just confirmed how much Eagan Maverick will never fulfil my fantasies.

You’re safe.

His words ring in my head, and I remind myself I’m not here for him.  I never was.  I was always here for a fighting chance to make something for myself. 

I square my shoulders, moving to examine the space provided for me.  I’m pleased to find a wall lined with books, and even happier when I realise they’re all magic. Tomes and tomes of magical guidelines with small practical magic for everyday life.  My eyes drift over the spines, taking particular interest in a book about creating your own clothing from nothing more than imagination, before feeling embarrassed by my shallow desires.  This isn’t becoming behaviour of a strong independent woman.  Yet I can’t stop desiring to be desirable.

I pluck the book out and start reading.  Magic has always been my forte, made easier by my fae ancestry. Magical bloodlines are mostly diluted now, fazed out overtime by war and mass genocides.  The only race not affected by dilution of power are the dragons, and that’s because the power was given by a dragon.  You can’t dilute a blessing from a greater being.

I focus on the book again.  It seems written by a woman with a keen eye for detail and fashion, giving an entire gallery index of different garments to imagine into fruition. It even has makeup, hair, shoes, accessories...it’s a manual I am excited yet ashamed to hold in my hands. 

A knock on my door sounds, and I pause, considering whether it’s Axel, Linden, Hugo or Eagan.

I answer it, hiding the book back on the shelf first, and to my surprise it’s Eagan.  He looks tired and frustrated, his red eyes locking me down as soon as they meet mine.

“Would you be willing?”

I stare at him, unsure what he’s referring to, and he realises right away and sighs, his frustration growing.

"My heat," he says, "my stabilizers are wearing off, and I'm asking, as calmly as possible in this situation, if you would be willing to..."

His voice trails off, and he looks panicked.  Feverish.  It dawns on me what he’s asking, but I can’t seem to believe it. 

“You want to know if I’ll let you fuck me,” I deadpan, trying not to notice all the ways my neither region’s heat and pulse furiously for it to happen.

Eagan leans against the door, either bracing himself or restraining from entering.

“I don’t want to ask,” he growls, and my pussy certainly shouldn’t like growling, “But you are the only one I need right now.”

I’m the only one here, I think direly, debating whether to have a slice of what I want.  The other thing to consider is it will probably hurt.  A lot.  It won’t be sweet or romantic.  It will be carnal, primal sex, probably from behind and pushed down, with no regard for myself. It will purely be to release whatever feverish pain is within him.

Even that seems amazing to imagine, but what would I know as a maiden? Books are good for learning, but I have no real life knowledge and experience.

I glance over him, before opening my door for him to pass through. Perhaps this is why he wanted me here.  For a sexual escape should he need it.  I’m not beautiful enough for people to suspect us of dating, so it’s perfect to choose someone like me.  Someone plain to-

Eagan kisses me, and our bodies collide against the back of the door.  Shock courses through me at how suddenly he’s on me, but his tongue is in my mouth, tasting and exploring me, setting me alight. 

Fuck.

His hands turn me around, pushing at my clothing, grasping at the bodice under my shirt until the laces pop, and the garment tears open.  His hands find my breasts, before his knees push my legs apart.  His hands are everywhere, tearing things off and undressing, and when I expect him to push into me in one deep thrust, I instead cry out in surprise at the hot swipe of tongue between my legs.  I shudder, my body a trembling mess at the intimate and powerful feel of his mouth on me.

“Fuck!”

My body quivers, my hips threatening to buck away from his touch due to sensitivity, but he stands abruptly, lifting my body with ease as he swings me over to the bed, bending me over, knees hitting the mattress.  He angles my hips against his mouth, his tongue doing things to me that have me fisting the sheets, and I start trying to move away again, feeling the slow torture of feeling so close yet so far from orgasm. 

“Keep still,” he warns me, his hands grasping me tight, “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

My body stiffens, pleasure peaking in a spiking ascent that steals my breath, and as he fastens himself to me I explode, my hips bucking into him now, riding his tongue as my pleasure overwhelms me.

I don’t have a moment to breathe, as Eagan lifts me upright into a kneeling position, hooks his arms under mine and slides right in.

My body lifts at the breach, and the sudden invasion, but my exhaustion from orgasm has me falling back against him, feeling the hard lines of muscle ripple as he rolls his hips into me.  His hand flies from my chest to between my legs, stroking me as I stretch to accommodate his girth and length.  He’s huge.  I know dragons are big, but I hadn’t expected that general knowledge to relate to his cock.

“Breathe,” he instructs, his mouth at my ear, sending a flutter through me, “Breathe.  You’re too tight, relax.”

I sink against him, realising he’s stopped thrusting, but then I start to move myself onto him, chasing the pleasure as my body swallows him inside.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “I can’t hold back anymore, this might hurt.”

He pushes me down, and sinks into me completely, pounding to the hilt.  I cry out, the pleasure throbbing, and I feel Eagan grasp my hips with bruising strength, before thrusting harder than I thought possible. I cum suddenly, my pleasure streaking through me in a surprising lightning rush, and I shudder and gasp, unable to breathe as he furiously fucks me, his pace and pressure unwavering.  My body aches from the position.  My pussy throbs from the relentless pounding.

“Change position,” I cry out, scrambling onto my elbows, “From the front.”

Eagan grabs a fistful of hair, yanking my head back.

“You want me to fuck you from the front?” He asks in a rough voice, leaning over me, a hand closing around my throat.

He doesn’t squeeze, but he does roll his hips deeper and deeper, grinding into me.  I moan, and he pauses.

“From the front,” he confirms, flipping me as if I weigh nothing, “I want to see your face.”

His hands grip my knees, lifting me closer, and he spreads my legs wider, examining my wet pussy. I throw my hands down to cover his view, and he grasps them both and slings them over my head.

“Why would you hide yourself?” He asks quietly, nudging his cock inside me again.

I gasp as I’m filled, and his eyes observe my face, watching the moans that tumble from my lips.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers, pressing a kiss under my jaw, his hips thrusting forward harder.

I can’t reply to him for the life of me, my mouth only capable of fast pants, moans and swearing.  My hips are lifting, rolling into his thrusts, and he looks at me with what I wish I could label as heat, but that’s probably wishful thinking.  I close my eyes, trying to focus on pleasure, and then they fly open again when Eagan pinches my nipple.

“Eyes on me, Margo,” he orders, his hand moving from my breast to my chin, keeping my gaze level with his, “Focus.”

I grimace, closing my eyes again. I hadn’t considered this position to feel as vulnerable as it does, because I had been so focused on trying to ache less from the previous position.  Now I’m wide open, and he can see everything.

Adding eye contact on top of that is asking too much.

“Open your eyes, Margo.”

I shake my head, and he stops. “You don’t have to stop, you can get it over with- “

He draws back like I’ve slapped him.

“Get it over with?”

I flinch at the ice in his voice and shrink back.  But what else is there for him to do? He’s only here to relieve himself of his heat and go.  He’s not here for anything else, so he definitely doesn’t need eye contact as he fucks me. 

“I shouldn’t have asked to change position,” I sigh, covering myself with blankets, “It’s too intimate and... open, for what you want this to be.”

He glares at me.

“And what do I want this to be?” he challenges.

“A one time opportunity to ease your symptoms,” I fire back, beginning to feel annoyed with myself for going along with it, “Which I’m now fucking regretting.”

He withdraws, dressing swiftly, jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry for the-,” He closes his eyes, breathing carefully, “The inconvenience.”

So am I.

“You’re not going to use this against me?” I ask, unable to stop myself, “Because if you do, you’ll never get those dragons, I’ll move them, I’ll leave with them-”

His eyes pin me with a glacial rage I’ve never experienced before.

“Just don’t kick me out.  I’ll never mention it,” I say lamely, fidgeting.

And I’ll never do anything this stupid again, I think direly, mortified, I’m never doing that again.

My pussy hurts, and I lift the blankets higher, my cheeks burning.  He’s never going to take me seriously.  He’ll hold this against me forever.  I’ll have to work twice as hard, or he might get rid of me.

He leaves without a word, the door slamming so loud and hard I see the wooden door vibrate in its frame.

“I’m an idiot,” I whisper to myself, wiping my eyes, “I’m an idiot and that couldn’t have been worse.”

I dress hurriedly in the discarded clothes he’d ripped off my body, trying to swallow back tears and failing. 

I don’t go down for dinner.