3. BEEP TEST

The week of the moot came.

Strangely, at least for me personally, I wasn't all that anxious. We had done what we could to prepare. We had a venue, we had food, and Cynthia had confirmed through her backchannels that they all had temporary housing in the area. Whatever else needed to happen wasn't my responsibility, given that no one had deigned to tell me what this was all about. If they wanted juggling clowns and a live band, they'd have to procure them themselves.

I did unearth some information on the dragons who were coming, finally.

First, Arjun, the man who had actually called the moot (though, Cynthia assured me that someone would have, even if he hadn't): born in central India sometime before the Mughals swept down from the north to seize power in the area, either in the late 1400s or early 1500s. For someone so powerful and long-lived, the information was shockingly incomplete. That seemed to be by design, as Arjun seemed to have really not done much in his life. He owned a river shipping company during the Raj and played chess at a regional level after World War II, but not seriously. Nowadays, he owned things. A resort in Indonesia, a mine in Australia, several cruise ferries in the Philippines. The hotel he owned in Malaysia was where he spent most of his time nowadays, drinking on the beach (which surprised me by being legal, given the country's dominant religion) and playing cards with C-list celebrities in smoky back rooms (gambling, it turned out, was taken much more seriously than alcohol consumption).

It was all a bit underwhelming, really.

Clement, on paper, could be confused as being the same. He also appeared to simply own things. Cynthia told me that, unlike the hands-off nonchalance of Arjun and in contrast to Clements's unimposing personal presence, he was actually a shark in a boardroom. Or, I guess, he was a dragon. He owned a telecom company in Germany, several Swiss food manufacturers and a transport company for them, and a spread of vineyards in France and Italy. His most public-facing possession was an aggressive law firm based in London that specialized in corporate takeovers and acquisitions. Despite not being a native Briton, he had attended Oxford (in the late 1800s, after the reforms that transformed it into something that resembled a modern university). There were question marks between World War I and the late 80s, when he had stepped back into the public eye with his law firm and his wife.

Speaking of his wife, Eleanor had even less recorded about her than Arjun. She was a homemaker, despite the curiously absent children I would have expected to see listed after that title. Born in France in the late 1800s to wealthy parents (of which I could find no further record, and Antonin told me to stop asking unless I wanted problems), she seemed to have married Clement and then done nothing since.

Finally, Juliana and Adriana. They had a family estate in Santa Catarina. There were lots of reports of how they used to meddle in local and regional government, in Southern Brazil as well as Uruguay and Argentina, a hundred years ago. Nothing of note since the '60s. The most recent development was when they got their name on a hospital wing ten years ago.

It was all rather bizarre to internalize. None of them seemed to match what I had anticipated. None of them had the horror stories I was expecting, given how horribly everyone seemed to react to my existence. None of them came with obvious warning signs of malicious, controlling behavior — most arguable was Clement, but that was only with his companies, not with the wider world. Frankly, they were all boring. While that went quite some ways to assuage my anxiety over the meeting, it only added more questions. They could have just done a great job of hiding their skeletons, but it sure didn't seem like it. It just seemed like they didn't have any in recent history, and everything about dragons before 1950 had been removed.

They just seemed to not really do much. Arjun and Clement had their mundane toys and investments, but that was it. There wasn't anything to warrant the reactions I had experienced. None of them had any bad news surrounding them.

And, more curiously, none of them had anything magical about them.

They all seemed to already have money. That made some sense — the youngest of them, Juliana, would've been a teenager when Woodstock happened. Given that their parents were necessarily dragons (dragons who seemed to have been expunged from the records, or at least from the ones I had access to), they should have been born closer to the top than I was.

But there was nothing in the little snippets of information I found that suggested they utilized their draconic nature in any way. There was nothing to indicate that they used magic in any way. They had inherited wealth or created their own in the mundane means I was already familiar with so long ago that it now maintained itself.

Which felt conspicuous. It felt important. There was no way that every other dragon having either no involvement with their communities or only mundane interactions was a meaningless coincidence, right?

The other thing that confused me was that none of them had multiple partners. Clement and Eleanor were married but didn't seem to have children or any intent on changing that. There wasn't mention of a long-serving housekeeper that Clement kept around or a yoga instructor Eleanor enjoyed when Clement was away on business. The Brazilian sisters were single and insulated from everyone around them; Juliana seemingly actively rejected interaction with everyone, and Adriana was merely introverted and heavily limited her public appearances. Arjun was a confirmed bachelor, though he had children. None of them were dragons, and I listened to a confusing and ultimately incomprehensible sidebar explanation from Antonin about how draconic genetics worked — the short of which was that the more powerful the mate magically, the more likely a child was to be a true dragon. A variety of other outcomes were possible, depending on the pair and their combined magical might and the location where the child was conceived. Apparently, a number of fae had their origin when a dragon mated a witch with an exhibitionist streak and enjoyed being taken on a ride into the countryside and then taken in the woods where anyone could theoretically stumble upon them.

Arjun only partied with mundanes, though, so there was no risk of any heirs. I noticed that draconic children were frequently called heirs in a way that suggested a different meaning than I was familiar with. Yes, Eleanor couldn't have Clement's child because of the risk of producing an heir and we wouldn't want that. He doesn't wish to have a bastard, so they remain a couple without children. Everyone I talked to danced around the issue in a way that was so goddamn frustrating and reminded me of exactly why I needed to figure all of this out — deal with the dragons and send them home, get a job, get a house (with a mana grid connection), then start cracking eggs to get the answers I needed. Getting a level of systematic independence and insulating myself from most sources of leverage was the goal. A goal I wanted to have accomplished before Zoey and I brought a child into the world.

Thoughts about how I wanted to approach that problem were running through my mind Tuesday afternoon as I returned to the apartment. I had worked out alone, following Zoey's planned schedule for me without any deviation, excepting her conspicuous absence as she went to have her yearly physical exams. I had inquired about Beth and Sam coming to the gym I used and was politely told that it was limited to official staff and their VIPs, which I might be able to get around, but it would use some of my political capital. That was reasonably valuable for me, so I went alone without raising the question, the bond between the three of us scratching the itch of desire for their presence just barely enough.

I was now starting my third training block, and I had hoped it would come with fewer spectators. The second block had been done halfway transformed, my scales coming through and covering my body for everyone in the gym to see, marking me plainly as the new dragon for anyone who was otherwise uninformed. That, combined with the freakish capabilities the draconic body reveled in displaying when he was unleashed, meant that every workout garnered observers. Thankfully, the partial transformation didn't seem to be enough to cause any of the more intimate side effects in those around me.

In a show of solidarity, Zoey allowed some of her wolfish features to bleed through as well for the six weeks I was training my draconic form. While I enjoyed seeing her white ears wiggling and tail wagging as we worked out, in a way surprisingly more reminiscent of a domesticated pet than a wild predator, I'm not sure anyone else noticed. The red dragon took all of their attention, after all. Even now, as I lifted without my skin hardening into a reflective, glossy maroon spectacle, people continued keeping their eyes on me, and while they were less interested in my normal skin, they were braver because of Zoey's absence. That made me content with Beth and Sam going to their own gym — I didn't want them caught up in this mess of publicity. Sam was already sensitive about her physique, as much as I loved her.

On Monday, when I was done working out and Zoey had concluded what she needed to do, she came to the apartment mentally and emotionally fatigued, looking to have dinner with us just to help her reset for the next day. She explained that the first day was mostly done by answering questions and having a physical check with a doctor to evaluate any current injuries so that they could make recommendations for alteration on the testing she was to do. She described feeling like a lab rat, stuck on the wrong side of the one-way mirrors she was used to, forced to go through the dance of having all of her shortcomings laid plain so that someone could look at her chart and say, "Ahh, yes. Lyon's VO2 max declined another 3% this year. Recommend her only for non-intensive actions on a maximum of 20 days per year with another evaluation in the spring."

Today, the lithe blonde came to the apartment after her tests were completed in a starkly different mood. She burst through the door to the apartment, not content with merely entering the abode, and marched through the entranceway confidently to plaster herself against me. I was sitting on the couch, and she was standing behind the back, leaning over me, pulling my head back to kiss me, and running her hand across my chest down toward my beltline. There was no subtlety in her approach. She wasn't sending a signal here; she was lighting the entire city on fire to get my attention.

"I need you," she whispered.

"Where?"

"Don't ask. Just take me. Own me. I'm yours. After today, my god, I'm yours."

I didn't understand what her words were supposed to mean, but I certainly understood the assignment. Climbing over the back of the couch rather than walking around was an easy step, and cupping her tight ass as I pulled her to me was as natural as breathing. She lifted one leg, then the other, wrapping herself around me in a way that drew forth a memory of our shocking reunion in the gym. Her arms slipped over my shoulders as I carried her toward the bedroom, her lips seemingly trying to map my entire face before we got there.

Once in the bedroom, it was easy enough to pull the lycra top she was wearing over her head and forget it as it fell to the floor in our wake. That was all she wore on her torso, and I felt clearly how her nipples cut into my skin through my own shirt, telling me everything I needed to know about how she felt about where we were going.

When I went to set her on the bed, though, she kept her legs wrapped around my hips. Through the bond, I could hear her laughing internally. Setting her down on the bed daintily and then carefully tugging her shorts and underwear off? How vanilla. How unimaginative. How prosaic. That wasn't in the cards for today. She wasn't going to cooperate. Something had lit her fire, and she needed me to put it out in her manner. This was for her.

I spun in place and fell backward into the bed, pulling my needy little wolf along with me. She acquiesced just enough to permit me to tug my own shirt off, but her hips remained locked with mine, held in place by her legs as she ground against me, teasing both of us. I slid my hands down her back, slipping my fingers underneath the skin-tight fabric, stretching it slightly as I cupped her ass directly. She pushed back against my hands, her knees digging into my sides, dragging her molten core against me. I pushed slightly further, inching the garment down, and she slammed her hips down, pinning it in place exactly where I had it, the back slid halfway down her cheeks. There was no way I was slipping them off without her cooperation, which she was clearly not giving me.

The dragon, watching intently, gave me an interesting suggestion. Zoey clearly wasn't letting me take the garment off of her, and it was too tight to try to just slip it to the side. If I couldn't go around, and I couldn't go over or under, perhaps I could go through them?

The sharp inhale and the swell of Zoey's pupils when the dragon conveyed his suggestion made me think that he was really onto something. I hesitated, though. I didn't really want to destroy the clothes she had on. It wasn't quite as sacrilegious as tearing a nice dress or one of the dozens of pieces of lingerie she kept here, but I still liked the shorts and the way they clung to her and made her legs look even longer than they were. I didn't want to wreck them.

Zoey took my hesitation as playfulness rather than the true dilemma I was considering, grinding herself against me in anticipation. She was now wholly engulfed in her wolf's need for me, and the only possible conclusion was that I was teasing her. To that end, I wasn't the least bit surprised when her tail inserted itself between my hands, already wagging back and forth uncontrollably.

I gripped the base of the fluffy white appendage, using it to lift her hips up for a second so my other hand could slide between us. She quivered as my finger stroked down her front, and I took a second to dip into the soaked, boiling depths nestled there, drawing a gasp from her. Then I withdrew my fingers and turned my hand around, pushing down against the damp fabric away from her body. I transformed just one finger, a razor-sharp claw sprouting and carving a hole through Zoey's shorts.

Before I let it fade back into my finger, I drew my hand out from between us, sliding the back of it against her bare skin until my hand reached her neck, where I tapped the side of my blood-red claw against her cheek.

"You going to behave, little wolf?" I asked.

Her eyes stared at the sharp appendage dancing perilously against her skin, but she replied defiantly, "Not unless you fucking make me."

I smiled and let the claw withdraw back under my human shell. My hands slid down her back, my fingertips dragging against her skin, until I reached her shorts. Once there, I hooked my fingers into the small hole I had cut with my claw and whispered, "That's what I'm going to do, then," before pulling. The fabric ripped and snapped as I yanked the hole open, far larger than I needed, leaving her shorts a destroyed relic torn front to back, clinging desperately to each leg but covering nothing in between.

Then, again using her tail as a handle to move her body how I wanted, I lifted her up. I was, thankfully, still only wearing loose athletic shorts from my time at the gym. It took just a second to slip them down the two inches I needed to pull myself out. Comfortable? Not perfectly. Expedient and efficient? More or less. Enough to give a panting werewolf the dragon dick she was desperate for? Precisely.

Zoey didn't need any further warm-up. Hell, she hadn't needed any when she first came into the apartment and probably would've gotten what she wanted faster if she didn't need it to be on her own terms, too. It wasn't a big deal, in the end. I certainly enjoyed her terms.

I hilted myself inside her a moment after moving my shorts. She let out a desperate whine as I sunk into her depths that could've convinced me she had never had anyone inside her before had I not known better. It was like she had forgotten what the feeling was like in the handful of days since our last dalliance, her entire world shaken by our reintroduction. The angle from her laying on top of me meant that I didn't quite bottom out in her, but if she sat up straight, I probably would. Somehow, I imagined that would happen today. Both Beth and Sam looked at her like she was insane when she admitted that she liked it when it happened, but their incredulity didn't stop her from grinding her inner limit against my head during our "slow and loving" times. Sam objected to that description, too.

Zoey collapsed onto my chest, panting tiny shallow breaths as she tried to cope with being suddenly filled, the sensation making her feel like she couldn't take a deep breath. I didn't give her any time to get accommodated, sliding my feet out and driving my hips into her. Given that she was already full of me, all I accomplished was lifting her up and forcing an exquisitely breathy whimper and whine from her chest.

Then I started fucking her how she needed. One hand gripped her hair, collecting her blonde tresses and wrapping my fingers around them, tightening and tugging on each upstroke, keeping her pulled against me every time I filled her. The other hand held her tail, and as my hips fell back to the mattress after I forced her into the air, it tugged on the fluffy white fuckhandle, keeping her in the air for just a second longer as I slid out of her dripping slit.

Despite being on top of me, she was firmly under my control. Which was good, because she wasn't under control of herself anymore. She moaned out half-completed, incoherent sentences, interrupted by gasps as I bounced her on my hips. Her limbs lost any sense of purpose, and the once tight wrap her thighs had around my waist was lost as her bones melted away under my attention. Her breathing rapidly developed from the shallow pants of an urgently aroused woman to the deep, guttural moans of one receiving the perfect amount of attention and on the fast track to satisfaction.

One of Zoey's arms remained tentatively responsive. It tapped wildly across my body for a moment before gripping the sheets fiercely, allowing her to tug her torso slightly off center on mine. She buried her face against my chest, her moans and whimpers and lewd mutterings leaving a trail of saliva against my skin as she panted and breathed me in with every delirious breath. She lingered there a moment, and then I giggled as I realized she was licking me because of how her soft, flat, transformed wolf tongue tickled my side.

That still wasn't enough to sate her, though the solution seemed close at hand. Indeed, my discarded shirt, something I had forgotten even existed with her body melted against mine, lay an arm's reach away. Zoey's singular responsive arm snapped out and snatched the garment up, practically teleporting it to her face. I saw a glimpse of white before it was covered by the shirt, letting me know that her face was shifting even more. Ears sprouted on top of her head and her tongue returned to tracing lazy loops across my chest as she inhaled my shirt.

The olfactory stimulation pushed Zoey over the edge. Her sheathe clenched so hard around me I couldn't dislodge her when I tried to bounce her off my hips like I had been, and I felt her abs ripple and tumble as they flexed and relaxed wildly. Zoey dropped the shirt from her face and howled, wholly lost to the overwhelming pleasure. And then, catching me by surprise, she bit my shoulder.

She didn't bite hard. She probably bit hard enough to break my skin and draw blood, but, given that I could simply lick my thumb and heal the little incisions she made with her fangs, it wasn't a big deal.

No, what was a big deal was that I instinctively, reactively, immediately sunk my teeth into her neck. Except, unlike her transformed wolf body, I didn't have fangs, right? I didn't have teeth that could sink into flesh in the same way, leading to a deep, unbreakable hold on her vital area, right?

Wrong.

My draconic teeth came out as a part of my biting instinct, and they sank deep into her neck before I realized what I was doing. Zoey's howl melted, transforming her initial primal roar of pleasure into a salacious, breathy whine as my teeth dug into her. Her single responsive limb gripped at my hair, but, to my confusion, she was pushing me harder against her, not pulling me away.

I didn't want to bite her. I still didn't know how the chemicals worked, and I wasn't sure I wanted to test them on any of my mates. The dragon rolled his eyes internally. His annoyance conveyed that he didn't have any intention of harming them and that this was precisely what I wanted with Zoey. I didn't understand what on earth he meant, and the person who was most attuned with him was still uncontrolled, clenching her insides around me, her conscious mind blasted to pieces by the bite.

After several moments, Zoey let go of my head, and I let go of her neck, immediately lapping at the four incisions I made in the hopes that I could fix them. Her body kept going, though. Her hands wandered across my body, touching everywhere, pulling at my skin harshly in uncontrolled, desperate attempts to draw us even closer. She nestled her face against my neck and, in a very non-Zoey move, began nuzzling me lovingly as her insides slowly relaxed around me. I could both feel her walls and her abs still tensing occasionally, trying to relax but having seemingly forgotten how to function as her brain was flooded with whatever concoction I had pumped into her.

"Fucking hell, J," she said, her words addled and imprecise. "What did you do to me? Why's everything burning up?"

"I bit you," I replied.

"Fuck yeah, you did," she moaned at me. "Do it again."

"What?"

"Do it again. Luna, be praised; I think I'm going to cum again already, and you stopped using me. Rub my back, pleeease." The final word was drawn out as I started complying with her request. A trail of goosebumps followed my fingertips along her flesh, and she trembled and quaked as though every nerve in her body coalesced to wherever I happened to touch.

She lifted up slightly, enough so that I could see her face and she could look at me. She didn't have any irises — her engorged pupils had expanded to completely eradicate the calm, grey swathe that normally encircled them. Her nose flexed and wiggled as she stared at me for half a moment before collapsing, pushing her forehead against my chest. Her prediction was proved true, the telltale flutter of her insides letting me know that, somehow, running my fingers along her back had tipped her back over the edge.

Her arms wrapped around my neck, and she pinned her body to me, even as it writhed out of her control. She squirmed and wiggled against me, wanton whines emanating from her mouth. She tried to kiss me, though she missed her first attempt and ended up kissing my cheek for several seconds before I kissed her back. That seemingly broke her further, as she froze, no longer moving towards any purpose, simply moaning as the hyper-enhanced barrage of sensations hijacked any and all higher function remaining in her brain. Her eyes, an inch away from mine, remained open, but they saw nothing, peering through me into the stars I drew out of her body.

I tried to hold still. I wanted to let her calm down. I wanted to make sure she wasn't going to literally explode from overstimulation like the throbbing, chaotically arrhythmic gasps streaming from her suggested.

It took almost a minute before she stopped whimpering and vibrating, and I hadn't even moved. On the one hand, I could understand how someone could get addicted to this — Zoey had gone from having a pretty good experience to being rapturously overcome with pleasure just from my fingers tracing circles on her back. On the other, the idea that I could have forced that onto her was terrifying.

The concerns didn't last, though, as Zoey interrupted them by pushing her index finger into my mouth.

"You're not done," she whispered hungrily, still clearly affected by the aphrodisiacal toxin from my bite.

I didn't answer, even when she withdrew her hand. I didn't see what she did with it, but she slipped it between her legs and groaned. She shifted her hips on me, slowly lifting her torso up, pushing on me with her unoccupied hand until she was on her knees. The angle change pushed more of me into her, and she chewed on her lip when I tapped at her limit. She stayed there for a minute, quivering and shaking as she ground herself on my tip, her hand behind her back, pushing herself through another peak.

When she relaxed and was coming down from that, her hooded eyes staring through me as she panted and twitched, she did something that caught me by surprise. She sat up on her knees like she wanted to adjust how she was sitting, and I slid out of her. That wasn't surprising — she was giving Sam a run for her money with how wet she was at the moment, so me slipping from her when she was no longer holding me tightly enough to crush me was fairly predictable. Then, with no words, she grasped me with her hand and oriented herself to put me back inside her.

And when my head pushed back inside of her, she groaned, the sensation of being spread open and stretched around me overwhelming her. Her brain ceded all intelligent thought, her mouth running but no longer producing words, her hips wiggling as she forced herself down and down and down onto me. Her insides were boiling, threatening to melt me away with their molten walls, and painfully tight, making her descent slow and careful despite her delirium. After what felt like an eon of her sliding a millimeter at a time down my length, her ass came to rest against my pelvis. As she trembled atop me, her eyes closed and her throat grumbling, I had a realization.

Despite still sitting fully upright, I hadn't bottomed out in her, like I usually did.

Getting out of my concerns about the bite and taking a moment to actually take stock of what had happened, the answer was obvious. I wasn't in her. Or, at least, I wasn't in her how I had expected to be. She had, in her hyperaroused state, decided for both of us that now would be the time to try something else. It explained why I noticed a difference in sensation, at least.

She lifted up, intent on actually going through with her impulsive decision to sodomize herself on me, and I could see her empty channel, leaking and needy, abandoned for something more extreme. She shivered as she slid down, reuniting our hips. Several more slow, tentative, testing strokes were made entirely under her power, each one slightly more confident and with a somewhat stronger reaction.

"Pain?" I whispered.

"No," she groaned back. "So fucking full. Aches. Use me. I need you."

I gripped her waist and moved her, slowly, patiently, carefully. This wasn't planned, and I didn't want to hurt her.

"More, James. Fuck me," she encouraged me.

I did, a little more, a little harder than I was comfortable with. Still slow, cautious, uncertain of what she could handle.

She informed me that it wasn't enough, saying, "Fucking hell, James, are you a dragon or the archivist holding an ancient text. Fuck me. Ream me. Mold my ass to your cock so I can be your perfect three-hole fuckpet. I need you to flood me with your seed, James. I want to cum while you're filling me."

Her words worked. They got me to move her faster, bouncing her with my hips at the bottom. She whimpered on every impact, eventually devolving into fully reactive gasps as I began earnestly rutting with her.

After a minute of riding me upright, she leaned forward, collapsing onto my chest and pulling my head to the side so I could kiss her. She kept her hips raised, leaning forward onto her knees so that I could go even harder.

Between kisses, she moaned, "Fuck, baby. You feel so good in me. You feel so good everywhere. This is so wild. Bite me again? Give me more?"

"No," I gruffly replied.

She nibbled on my neck when I rejected her request, in a disorganized, chaotic manner — sometimes biting me lightly, sometimes licking me, sometimes seeming to just nuzzle her face in her own saliva. As my strokes sped up, as I became more and more convinced that I wasn't going to hurt her, she got even less coordinated, fading from nibbling me to moaning a slurred mess of provocations into my ear.

"But it felt so good, master. I want more."

"No. Behave, little wolf. Need to see how you come down," I struggled to say between increasingly heavy breaths.

"But it feels so good. How could anything this good be bad?" she slurred at me. After a moment, she continued, "You going to cum in me?"

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"Wanted to see if you could," I groaned, my lungs and legs starting to burn from my exertion.

"Have been the whole time," she very uncharacteristically giggled at me. "You ever had one last twenty minutes straight?"

"Think I would die."

"Feels so good I don't care if I did."

"Guess I need to finish so we can stop before that happens."

“Mmm, you gunna do it? Fill me with your magic seed? Paint my insides as white as my fur? Flood my guts with your gunk? Leave me a soaked, gaping, dripping, useless mess? Fuck that's so hot. I'm just a little toy for you to drain yourself in. I need it, James. I need to be full of you."

That was enough. I had worked myself to a sheen of sweat, and Zoey had as well, so my hands slid on her body before my fingers found their grip, allowing me to pull her hips down completely, grinding her against my base as I let go. With the gasp I forced out of her still flowing through her lips, I released myself, my hands digging into Zoey's skin as I came in her. Her taunting words ended, cut by a cry from her mouth.

I felt the surge of energy as I emptied myself inside her. It filled Zoey, and then it filled the room, and then it spread out further into the apartment. From there, I couldn't say how far it went. I could feel it affecting Beth and Sam, who were in the kitchen. I had to guess it would've affected Cynthia or Zenya if they had been here. Those in the next apartment over? Maybe. Outside the building? Doubtful. But here? With me lodged deep inside her and my arms pinning her against me, Zoey was overcome with it.

There was a minute of silent panting before I tried to pull out of her. She clutched at me, forcing me to remain still. I tried to rub her back, but she whispered, "Stop, please," between pained, overstimulated moans. So, for an hour, we lay in silence, entirely still. She was still so hot and firm around me that I remained at half-strength, mostly in her.

Beth checked in several times telepathically during the hour — equal parts out of concern for Zoey and me and interest in finally knowing what the bite was like. I explained how it seemed to turn all of Zoey's sensitivities to eleven and reduce her inhibitions, which only made Beth intrigued to try it herself. When I added that Zoey seemed playful and cuddly and loving, rather than her typical self, Beth mentally rolled her eyes as if I was being dense. Maybe I was.

When Zoey still wasn't 100% back to normal an hour later, I made the executive decision that she was spending the night. She didn't like to spend weeknights here if she could justify not, but she wasn't fit to leave, and I didn't want her coming down from this alone. Sam made dinner but brought Zoey her dish into the room, where the two of us were still lying entangled. Sam, Beth, Cynthia, and Zenya ate like civilized adults out in the dining room while Zoey devoured the meal in my bed. When she was done eating, I returned her plate to the dining room, used the bathroom, and brought a washcloth back to the bedroom. She pushed my hands away when I tried to clean her, so we ended up going to sleep, still covered in the bits that dripped out of her.

In the morning, she woke up second after me, immediately groaning before even opening her eyes.

"You alright?" I whispered.

"Ache," she grumbled back.

"Want me to—"

"No. It feels fucking amazing. Going to linger, too. Should've gotten you to spank me raw during that. Punish me for being impulsive."

"But, no pain?"

She smirked. "No butt pain."

"What happened yesterday, Zo? What made you come here and just attack me like that?"

"I think I remember you attacking me."

"Sor—"

"Shut the fuck up, James. That was the greatest thing I've ever experienced. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life." She paused, stretching in my arms, rolling slightly so she could look into my eyes as she continued to speak. "So, two days ago, I said I hated the tests, right? Lotta bullshit that could've been done at any time during the year, but they want it all done on day one so that way they have the most up-to-date information on me, like I'm an experiment they're monitoring rather than a person. Dunno if you know what that's like or not.

"Anyway, yesterday, I go in, there's a couple other girls there, we're doing aerobics tests. They already got the doctor's data — I'm shit and old and unfit. I blow into their test mouthpiece, and the numbers say my lungs aren't good anymore. But, we start doing the tests, and I'm like, I'm fucking crushing them. There are two fifteen-year-old trialists with me; one's a cheetah, the other a wolf. They're young and impressionable and raw, but I'm beating them. Timed sprints? I beat them. Okay, obviously, the cheetah beats me in the first heat. But she gets slower each iteration. For some fucking reason, I don't. No one else is even close by the third. She's gassed; I'm still warming up.

"Timed kilometers. Now, I'm not setting records for the world, but I'm beating my own. Getting close to three minutes flat. That's about a five-minute mile. I'm quick, James, but I'm not fast, you feel me? I'm agile, but I'm strong and durable, too. Strong and durable for my body weight, anyway. Elephants and boars and bears all have me beat there. Jack of all trades where they and the cheetah are all specialists. But I've never been fast. I'm blowing my personal times out of the water. Thirty seconds on the kilometer, something I haven't even been training for. Not specifically, anyway. And I did that after going 11.5 on the hundred. They took the slowest of three attempts. That's an Olympic time, James. Wouldn't medal. Probably wouldn't even get out of the first heat. But I also probably wouldn't come last. That's fucking wild.

"So, I was Queen Bitch Back In Action yesterday. I took charge. I fucking conquered those tests. I wanted to come home and get conquered. I don't know what you've done to me, but I can't deny it anymore. Sam's absolutely right to call you a cheat code. You got Beth a family and Sam the magic she was denied, and somehow, you made me back into what I used to be."

"And then I bit you," I whispered.

She smiled and hummed, practically purring. "And then you bit me. And it was fucking glorious. Oh. My. God. Luna herself never felt anything as exquisite. You took me and owned me, and your very touch set me ablaze, and it was the perfect. I went from being the All Conquering Queen to being the King's needy concubine cocksleeve with a single little nibble on my neck. It was perfect. God, I feel so used in the absolute best way."

"Zoey, are you sure we didn't go too far last night? I mean, we didn't really prep you for that. Are you okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "J, Sam wants you to love her. You do; it's amazing to see how much she's blossomed having your support in the way she craved it. Beth wants you to lead her. She doesn't want to be alone, second-guessing the choices she made ever again.

"I want you to own me. You absolutely do, but it's never more obvious than when we're in bed, and I get you to let go a bit. When you finally flip the switch and go to town on me, and you push me through cumming so much that I can't remember my own name because you've burned every pathway in my brain with yours? That's what I want. The ache that lingers for a week and reminds me every day of what we are? That's what I want. You can't hurt me, James, and I don't mean that just because you can fix me with your healing afterward. You can't hurt me because I'm yours to do with as you see fit. That's what I picture in my fantasies. Sam can be your wife like she's been dreaming about forever. Beth can be the best friend who you happen to be intimate with, too. As embarrassing as it was to realize that I told you it, I really do want to be your three-hole fuckpet. I want you to break me a little every time we're together. I need you to stop holding back for my sake. I need more nights like last night."

Then she blushed crimson, and quietly added with a performance pout, "But if you're looking for an excuse to eat my ass this morning, I can certainly tell you it hurts and I need my big, strong dragon master to take care of me because I hurt myself taking his thick cock in my tiny ass. That works for you, right?"

"Harlot," Sam whispered from one side of me.

"Get it, girl. You tell him what you need," came from Beth on the other side. "Just let me know when you're going to egg him on like that again. I'll give you my notes if you let me watch."

Zoey laughed and shook her head. "In all seriousness, I spent a solid five minutes working two fingers in beforehand. Two fingers absolutely covered in your saliva. If it had ever hurt, I would've had you do more with your tongue. Or get some actual lube. But, your bite made me do my best Sam impression and I was literally dripping around you. And the friction made it better. Tugging me. Molding me to fit you. Stretching me around you."

"You're crazy, you know?" Sam whispered.

"So, you're not in pain, even though we didn't take any preparatory steps that absolutely should've been required?"

Zoey sighed in frustration. Beth echoed it.

After a moment of grey and green eyes flicking back and forth, Zoey answered. "I know we're kind of at an impasse here, James. You desperately crave doing the best you can to pamper us out of some twisted part of your mind that makes you think you have to be the best partner in the entire world before you're allowed to have any girl, and yet, for some reason, you have a whole harem on accident. But, giving me what I want means not giving me what I want, too. I need you to hold back on doing those things you think you need to do while making me do stuff I don't want to do. Taking my bum when I wasn't quite ready for it was amazing. Paddling me that one time and then leaving it to burn had me ready to go every time I sat down. If we weren't trying for a child," she paused, seemingly frozen for a second by the words that came out of her mouth. I wasn't sure if the others picked up on it, but I felt the hesitance and the lack of commitment emphasized by her broken sentence. It was only a second or two later that she continued, but I noticed. I wanted to follow up immediately, but Zoey continued talking, not giving me a chance.

"— I'd want you to use me hard for an hour and then tell me I wasn't good enough for your seed. I'd want you to pump it into Beth and tell me that if I wanted any, I'd have to eat it out of her. I loved our first night together when you told me not to cum. Putting Beth's soaked panties in my mouth to muzzle me was so fucking good. I need you to push me to do things you don't think I want to do, okay? The best way you can pamper me is by pushing me outside my comfort zone."

"I'll try," I cautiously responded after a minute. "It's not exactly my natural instinct."

"It is," she replied confidently. "I got the dragon, remember? He's just sitting there, waiting to help you keep me under his thumb."

"It's not my natural instinct."

Sam added, "And thank fuck for that. You two are nuts." The redhead leaned up, kissed me, kissed Zoey on the cheek, and then said, "C'mon, Beth. Leave the animals alone for a minute, we need to get breakfast going. Mom's going to want coffee while she talks with J later, at least."

Zoey watched the two live-ins walk out to the kitchen, before turning to me and asking, "Did you ask them to leave?"

"No. Sam is consciously trying to reinforce Beth through interactions with Cynthia. We're going out to lunch later. I would've invited you, but I thought you wouldn't be here."

"No, it's fine. I've got more tests to conquer since you made me super-Zoey. So, Beth's still bothered by her parent?" Zoey asked, wording deliberate.

"Not bothered. Our meeting with that woman wasn't pleasant, understatement of the year, but it was basically what Beth expected, so it isn't really bothering her. At least, not actively. The years of stress and trauma are still there, but she's never not had those, so bothering isn't quite the right description."

"Right," Zoey replied.

"I did want to talk to you alone, though. You're good now, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"The bite. You were still off last night. You sound back to normal, but I'd like to hear it from you."

"Normal enough, I think," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "It was amazing. I want you to do it again."

"You did ask for that almost immediately."

"It was weird. It was like it simultaneously turned all of my nerves up to maximum sensitivity, right? Flooded me with pleasure. Except, I realized later, the blanket on my legs felt normal. The pillow felt normal, even if your breath on my neck melted my mind. Beth and Sam moving around me felt good in a way that was strange. It was as if they got an echo of whatever made you burn my skin with your touch."

"That makes sense," I replied softly. "The bond, it's not from the dragon. It's from the other thing. And, the best way to describe it is that it felt like I put a piece of my soul in each of you. If they gave you an echo of the sensation, it's because there's a shard of me in them. Did your own touch do the same?"

"Yes," Zoey replied, her brow furrowed in contemplation. "I hadn't even thought about it, but, yes. Wait, though, I have a piece of your soul in me?"

"That's what it felt like when it happened."

"And, Beth and Sam?"

"Yes."

"Beth described it as a tunnel between you, though," Zoey said, not precisely accusationally, but still with a tinge of concern.

"She wasn't wrong to describe it that way. It's just, the tunnel is me. There's a piece of me stretched thin to connect both of us, and it's anchored into each of you. It's why I can touch Beth, and now you and Sam can even though Sam's magic can't, but everyone else gets halted a millimeter away. I'm already inside the barrier now. Sorry, you seem bothered by this. I didn't mean to keep it from you, it just didn't seem to change anything before. Are you alright?"

"Probably. Might explain why I'm suddenly able to perform better at everything I've done. You know, better than I've ever been able to, not just getting back to my peak."

"Huh. I thought it was just the healing saliva."

"Would make sense if I was returning to top form without surpassing it," she replied pointedly.

"Yeah, now that you've pointed it out, it makes some sense. I would ask Antonin about it, but he had no ideas and no real way to test it, either."

"And now's not the time to be digging, is it?"

I shrugged, shaking Zoey slightly. "Maybe. Would be nice to know. Would be nice to be able to meet the other dragons knowing exactly what parts of me are from the dragon and what parts are from the other thing. Would be nice to plan my future with the knowledge of how all of this actually works."

"So, breakfast?" she asked.

"No, I wanted to ask you about what your look was about when you mentioned a child."

Zoey inhaled and exhaled measuredly, then steeled herself and met my eyes. "No."

"No?"

"I'm not answering that yet. I have some concerns, and we'll be discussing them, but I have some advice to seek out and some soul-searching to do first. Okay?"

"Okay," I relented.

"Breakfast?"

"Breakfast."

Breakfast ended up being a minor affair. Beth and Sam made sausage links for Zoey while the rest of us abstained — having already made plans to go out for lunch, it didn't exactly make sense to have a large breakfast. Cynthia had a cup of coffee, and then a second, as the six of us loitered around the table.

And then, my mates departed. Zoey had tests to perform — to conquer, in her words — and Sam and Beth were going to their regular, mundane-oriented public gym for a little workout. They were going to the library afterward — Beth was still assisting with Rosa's book club, and Sam was interested in tagging along under the guise of seeing what the recipe books at the library were like. That was obviously a convenient excuse, but everyone seemed content with leaving it unquestioned.

Which left Cynthia, Zenya, and I in the apartment. There was a purpose to our meeting, a purpose that necessitated the pot of coffee Sam had imbued before she left:

We had to determine what concessions I was willing to make to the other dragons.

It was a challenging task, mainly on the basis that none of us had any tangible ideas of what the other wyrms would want, making us have to discuss anything and everything we could think of. The other complication was that the drake in my mind absolutely refused to want to give up anything. Yes, I was the junior most dragon in the world and, therefore, would likely be requested to make some sort of show of deference to the others in the course of their assessment. That fact also meant that everything I had was dear to me. I hadn't had decades upon decades to build up an empire of wealth and favors. I had my mates, my advisors, and little else, and the few things the dragon had his claws dug into, he wasn't willing to let go of.

The starting point, then, was to discuss what the other dragons could even possibly want. The lack of available information, let alone concrete, conclusive dossiers, made just that first step a challenge. Arjun had property, money, and regional influence, and no ambition for more. What could he even ask me for? A visit to one of his hotels? Or, the opposite, perhaps — to never patronize his properties? The Brazilian sisters hung out at their villa, occasionally hosting parties. What could they request? Introduction to one of the wineries in the Finger Lakes north of us or the Delaware Valley around us? Not like I had an in there, and they would undoubtedly have connections in Argentina and Chile already, not to slight Brazilian wine. Eleanor was reminiscent of a trophy wife. What could she request? What political capital could she even bring to bear against me that would be unique from her husband?

Clement was the only one of the bunch who seemed to want things and actively pursued them. They were all mundane things — businesses, villas, a boat in Monaco — and things that I was uniquely unprepared to bargain with. I had some money, largely thanks to Aisling's generosity, but it would be years before I had yacht money. These people didn't seem to engage with anything magically (despite, if they were anything like me, that being an obvious strength) and I didn't have any mundane means. Half a bachelor's degree and a loaned apartment from the Seat put me firmly last — even Eleanor and Juliana had more personal assets in the public domain.

I didn't get it. I didn't understand why they were coming to see me in person if not to take my measure and then make their demands. There was just nothing they could demand that I could realistically provide. But, that was the only thing that made sense, both to me and to my dragon. If they just wanted to chat and make introductions, video conferencing was a thing. I'm sure the magical world had an even better option. Probably inspired those hologram meetings in the Star Wars films.

In the end, I advised Zenya that we should stall on almost anything they requested. Anything to do with either my mates or my advisors was immediately off the board, the dragon unflinchingly unwilling to share my companions in any capacity — I did teasingly remind him that, at one point, he was willing to trade them for a bag of gold bullion, to which he disgruntledly replied that they were worth more now but that he wasn't sure then — but anything else could at least be discussed. I couldn't see how I would have anything to offer that they would be interested in, but until details were laid out, I wasn't going to be rejecting anything else preemptively.

With three hours of utterly unproductive discussions down the drain, not having any sensible leads, and my dragon rejecting the other ones outright, we eventually gave up. There wasn't any sense in attempting to predict such a withdrawn and enigmatic group of people. At least establishing my hard rejections was useful for Zenya — several people had gotten in contact with her recently with questions for future advertising campaigns, and not just for me. Some of the requests specifically asked for one of the girls. Concerningly, some of them asked by name, which hadn't been published with their images.

We had only continued trying to force the discussions for so long because we were waiting for Beth and Sam to return. They did very shortly after we wrapped up, both looking physically and emotionally fatigued, though not to the point of concern. Through the bond, I could sense that Beth felt satisfied in her soul. She recognized that assisting the children Rosa oversaw with their reading was actually helping her, and she felt, in addition to some mild frustration about her childhood, the pride of seeing them grow because of her actions. She could see the good blossoming from her efforts before her eyes, and as fatiguing as it could be, she knew she wanted to continue.

The bond told me she was considering asking me for financial support for Rosa's club. She wasn't yet ready to ask me, so I didn't reply to tell her that our money was just that, our money. Not mine. I would when she decided to ask.

She would probably tell me she appreciated having me in control of it.

Sam was carrying several printed sheets of paper, seeming to have justified her presence at the library by scanning and printing several recipes. I asked why she didn't simply take a picture of them with her phone, which she answered by simply holding them up for me to look at, displaying a mess of handwritten notes in the margins of the page. Evidently, one of the librarians, a somewhat lonely retiree looking for any reason to socialize, saw Sam with the book and talked to her about it. While Beth helped the kids, the librarian spoke to Sam about the recipes, giving her thoughts on the ones she had tried in the past. Cynthia glanced over the selections Sam had made before we headed out, adding her initial thoughts on the recipes to the mix. The advice and interaction weren't exactly novel for Sam, as Cynthia had been reconnecting with her daughter over Sam's newfound interest in the culinary arts over the past two months, but each time Cynthia offhandedly praised Sam for something that would be otherwise miniscule and inane to me, I felt Sam's heart blossom into full bloom again. It was something Sam had known intellectually that she needed in the past, but only now did she genuinely grasp the immense emotional impact.

Lunch started off quietly. We ended up in a little Mediterranean-inspired sandwich shop, a place that started baking its own bread to suit its needs after being dissatisfied with the alternatives. Now, half of the customers that came in while we ate were only there to collect a loaf of whatever specialty they couldn't find elsewhere. It was easy to understand why as we took our first bites, and we quickly added the convenient sampler they offered to our bill.

It remained quiet, too, as we finished eating and turned to lounging, but the light atmosphere faded somewhat as the conversation shifted. Sam asked how our plans were progressing with the upcoming meetings and if we had learned anything new, which we hadn't. When I explained how frustrating it was that we had no information to go on besides their carefully cultivated public images, which had clearly been picked clean of anything valuable and made predicting the other dragons incredibly challenging, Beth asked if that wasn't the same for me.

"I mean," she started, "You need to know what they want to understand why they're coming here, right? You might not know much about them, and that seems intentional on their part, but they know literally nothing about you. You're like an alien. Or, I guess, like if a human colony suddenly announced itself on Mars, but none of the governments or companies here claimed it. You just appeared, you know? They have carefully cleaned histories — you just showed up one day. We don't even know how or why."

"Huh," I muttered, feeling like she had accidentally stumbled on something I had missed.

"They've gotta think you're dangerous, right? I mean, surely they're having the same experience that Aisling did. The five of them are the only dragons, the only suppliers of dragon-related stuff in the world, the only truly apex predators. Then you just pop up over here. Were you a partner of one of them hiding for decades, now revealing yourself? Are you a secret heir to one of them that no one was supposed to know about? Are you someone from thousands of years ago who has just laid low the entire time? They're all going to be confused about how you exist and how that changes things."

"I can't believe I didn't even think of that," I replied. "If they have the same quality of information about me that I have on them, they'll have nothing."

"We've been trying to figure out what they want in coming here," Cynthia interjected, "but could it be that they're coming here to figure out what you want?"

"Maybe."

I spent a minute trying to wrap my head around that idea, so blindsided by the obvious possibility that the other dragons could be trying to predict me just as much as I had obsessed over anticipating them, that I didn't realize everyone at the table was watching me.

When I glanced up and saw everyone staring at me, Cynthia with a patient look on her face and my mates with more anticipatory ones, I was confused.

"What?"

"Don't you think that's a question we should answer?" Sam asked.

"What question?"

"What you want, James."

I sat back in my seat. What did I want? I didn't have an obvious goal. Rather, the blatant goals I had were moving targets. I wanted a residence, but I didn't have something specific in mind. I wanted reliable financial security that didn't come with the attached collar. I wanted more knowledge about the world I was in and why everyone was terrified of dragons despite seemingly no justifications. I wanted more time to spend doing whatever I wanted.

Essentially, I wanted independence.

Unfortunately, that was challenging to articulate coherently, and even harder still to plan a path for. I wasn't even sure if it was something I would be allowed to chase. After all, weren't the dragons coming here specifically because I was independent, in their eyes? None of them saw an obvious connection to me, and that made them nervous. Aisling had been the same. Antonin didn't care what I did because I was interesting academically to him.

"I don't think I have anything specific in mind," I answered. "I want to be able to live my own life, not feeling beholden to Aisling or her court, not worried about looking over my shoulder to see which covert operative is tailing me when I have yet to even do anything. I want to have free time to do things with you three. I want to have a place where I feel safe — not just me personally, but a place where I feel all of us are safe, even if I take a step outside. I want to feel comfortable and secure again. But I don't actually know how to get any of that, and every door I open to check for answers leads only to more questions."

"Ask the other dragons," Cynthia suggested.

"What?"

"You want what they seem to have. Largely independent, largely self-sufficient lives."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess I also want to be able to support Beth, Sam, and Zoey in achieving what they want, too. That's actually a pretty important part of what I want. Evgenia, too, just because it seems like no one else ever has, and that…" I sighed and trailed off.

"We know, James," Sam said. "We know you find it personally offensive that anyone gets treated how she was. We know you're going to do your best to try and right it."

"The issue is that I don't see how," I explained. "Zenya needs… I don't know. She needs something, but I don't know if I'm the one who can help her get it. I don't know if anyone else is going to and I don't know if she's ever going to see me as more than an owner."

"She does," Cynthia offered. "She's coming around. Working with you this week has made a significant amount of progress in convincing her."

"Convincing her? I figured she had already realized I wasn't like the others. Hoped, at least."

Cynthia smiled patiently before elaborating. "She knew you weren't like her previous —" she paused, trying to find a palatable word to use, eventually settling on, "— benefactors. You weren't ever in comparison with them. You don't view her as a piece of meat or a machine to get results from; that was always evident."

"But?" I asked.

"But she wasn't sure if she was simply a charity case or not. She personally hasn't been in that position before, but the thought had crossed her mind. She didn't feel like she had much of a use to you when you were outright declining everything she was supposed to help you with, and then you handled Marjorie's advertising on your own. She felt like she didn't have a purpose here. In the past, even when she was being treated poorly, she had things to do."

"I see. So, she needs the work in order to feel satisfied with herself," I concluded.

"No, James. That isn't it. Her fears of being a charity case were founded on the fact that, eventually, wealthy patrons get bored and move on to something else. Eventually, you find another charity to support. Now that she has a reason to stay, she can be more comfortable enjoying the comforts being in your employ provides, because she can be confident they aren't going to disappear tomorrow if you change your mind about having her around."

"I see. I hate it, but I understand, at the very least. It's not something I'm going to solve today. Something we can talk about, at least, is what Sam and Beth would want. Having that discussion would help me. Zoey, too, but she's not here." I looked at my two present mates, who were both deep in thought. "Not to put you on the spot and all, but, it would be nice. Even if you don't have answers today, it would be nice to have you think about it a bit."

After several minutes, Sam answered first. "Sorry, James, I don't really know how to answer the question. I know it doesn't help you plan for the future, but you've already shared everything I could want. I got you. I got real magic. I reconnected with my mom and got two sisters to share my future with. My fantasy world is my real life. I went into the job because my mom was good at it, and I could use my little magic there, not because I really loved it. Now, I get to spend the whole week doing whatever I want. I'm probably going to resign from my position, not that I've been doing much for them anyway. Right now, I'm good. I want Zoey to move in with us and drop this half-and-half shit, and then I want to go places and see things with you, but the 'with you' part is the operative piece there. I don't have anything specific. Sorry."

"That makes a lot of sense, Sam. There's no reason to apologize for the truth."

Everyone turned to look at Beth, who seemed to shrink under the attention. "Guys, James, I don't know how to say this but I don't really do 'want,' you know? Only in the last two months have I been able to think about something further ahead than surviving tomorrow. Anything you pick will be more than good with me. There's a part of me that's interested in going to school, seeing a name on a piece of paper. I think that might just be to spite my mom, though — to feel like I'm shoving her face into the fact that I was good enough if only she had ever supported me. There's no plan for what I'd do after getting it."

"That's at least something we can do, Beth."

"I guess I was thinking about something in education," she uncharacteristically shyly admitted. "Working with the kids with Rosa has been great. Highlighted a lot of things I didn't know, but…" she trailed off, seeming uncomfortable continuing the thought. I knew the gist of what she felt through our bond but she was still embarrassed about it.

"You don't have to explain, Beth. You can want it without sharing your reasons."

"Because I can connect with the kids better than I did with my teachers," she blurted out. "Rosa does, too, in a different way. The fact that she's obviously not normal makes it easier for her to connect with some of the kids. Makes her human. Makes her a peer, not a stiff woman in a business suit talking about their grades. Not an outsider.

"I can do that, too, you know? Kids like me, I mean, there are definitely going to be exceptions, but kids like me don't grow up to be teachers. And, if you do, you put it behind you, you know? You put it in your past and move on and don't share it. But, it's me. It's a part of me. And I can use that to help, maybe. I don't know, James, it's just a fantasy. When I realized I might've wanted to go back to school just to give an imaginary middle finger to my mom, and then I realized I would probably want it to actually be useful, that was the thought."

"It's a nice thought," I replied.

"Doesn't help you, though."

"No. No, it doesn't. It does mean that I know there's nothing I need to worry about trying to acquire from the other dragons, though. Knowing I don't need anything besides general advice means I don't need to give them much in return. So it's still helpful."

"Let's see if you still feel that way next week, James," Cynthia said. "Perhaps after interacting with them, you'll change your mind."