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FIRST | The second part of history | THIRD
Crytrauv knelt beside Rynthara’s neck, his gaze earnest, hands hovering just above the silky fur lining the upper portion of her neck.
“I want to be stroked, caressed, idolized. Pet me like you would a dog, and lose the offending hand.” Rynthara snapped her fangs an inch from his fingers to get her point across, but Crytrauv remained unperturbed in his serenity.
“A fair trade off. What need have I of a hand that cannot follow my instructions?”
She pushed her snout into his hand, flaring her nostrils in readiness. “Get on with it, so that I can prove you once and for all that, no matter how and where you stroke me, I shall remain impassive, motionless, soundless.”
Rynthara already broke her promise by loosening a low squeak as the gentle pads of his palm alighted upon her brow, the claws tipping his fingers tracing the thin, jagged patterns dispersed above her eyes.
“That didn’t count. You took me by surprise.”
Crytrauv chuckled, his other hand stroking the underside of her jaw. “That will become common occurrence, but know that I’ll never fault you for it. Beauty is a waste if you keep it to yourself, and I can only hope my methods will help you overcome your fear of yourself.”
“Hraf!” Rynthara puffed up a cloud of white smoke. “If you’d pour more focus into whatever this is and less in wiggling your tongue, maybe I’d feel irrrrrrrrrrr!”
Her eyes half closed instinctively, a trill of overpowering satisfaction pouring out of her as Crytrauv gently scratched the area where her jaw ended and her neck began. Try as she might to plug it into the depths of oblivion, her body refused to obey, that electrifying tingle far too enjoyable.
Crytrauv’s claws ceased their doing, allowing Rynthara’s eyes to snap open and shift over in his direction.
“Shhh,” he silenced her with a hand over her nostrils, the tang of scented herbs tinting his pads too relaxing to let her voice her concerns. “No more speaking from either of us.”
It wasn’t a request, but a command, one that she agreed with through a curt nod. After all, what harm could it be in letting this fool do his thing? They would be parted tomorrow, thus leaving her forever denied this experience. What a convincing tale it would make, that of the fox kneeling by her side, claws combing through her fur in a slow, dignified manner.
Crytrauv’s eyes narrowed in focus, his face looming above hers, hands enclosing her peripheral vision. His palm pads sailed up and down her cheeks, allowing his finger pads to trace the bony ridges of her eyes, applying just enough pressure to lull her eyelids into a fatiguing trance.
“It would help if you close them. Makes the experience all the more intriguing.”
Again, she did his bidding, spurred forth by curiosity. Did he know just how receptive her fur was? That every strand told her directly where he went? Each hand now cupped an ear, fondling with their purple edges at first, then squeezing the soft tissue lightly while stroking the central white blotches dotting her ears. She twitched them several times in failed attempts to discourage him, his persistence both aggravating and surprising.
It was when his attention fell on her neck that Rynthara began to purr. Crytrauv made a point of dragging his thumbs down the sinuous lines weaving along the mauve, fluffy sea, adding just the slightest, most tantalizing pressure. When he reached the base of her neck, he began kneading her muscles up to her jaws, then back down, and up again. Dragons often nipped their necks in equally gentle fashion, yet they had fangs, while Crytrauv’s fingers were equipped with soft pads.
Rynthara’s limbs tensed up. Her paws pushed into the air, toes stretching, spine arching and stretching. Stars speckled her vision from the massage-induced stretch. In one swift, sudden motion, her whole frame relaxed more than it ever did in her life, rapid huffs of satisfaction rushing past her flared nostrils.
Crytrauv wasted no time in switching to her chest, trading the slow pace of his ministrations for terse, frenzied strokes. His snappy motions ruffled the fur of her breast, the thorough kneading causing her to roll from side to side, a constant, guttural moan rippling in her throat. Rynthara swung her head back, rubbing it along the ground, a forepaw kneading at Crytrauv’s hip to encourage him to keep going.
Text by
Owner Rynthara
Owner Crytrauv
FIRST | The second part of history | THIRD
Crytrauv knelt beside Rynthara’s neck, his gaze earnest, hands hovering just above the silky fur lining the upper portion of her neck.
“I want to be stroked, caressed, idolized. Pet me like you would a dog, and lose the offending hand.” Rynthara snapped her fangs an inch from his fingers to get her point across, but Crytrauv remained unperturbed in his serenity.
“A fair trade off. What need have I of a hand that cannot follow my instructions?”
She pushed her snout into his hand, flaring her nostrils in readiness. “Get on with it, so that I can prove you once and for all that, no matter how and where you stroke me, I shall remain impassive, motionless, soundless.”
Rynthara already broke her promise by loosening a low squeak as the gentle pads of his palm alighted upon her brow, the claws tipping his fingers tracing the thin, jagged patterns dispersed above her eyes.
“That didn’t count. You took me by surprise.”
Crytrauv chuckled, his other hand stroking the underside of her jaw. “That will become common occurrence, but know that I’ll never fault you for it. Beauty is a waste if you keep it to yourself, and I can only hope my methods will help you overcome your fear of yourself.”
“Hraf!” Rynthara puffed up a cloud of white smoke. “If you’d pour more focus into whatever this is and less in wiggling your tongue, maybe I’d feel irrrrrrrrrrr!”
Her eyes half closed instinctively, a trill of overpowering satisfaction pouring out of her as Crytrauv gently scratched the area where her jaw ended and her neck began. Try as she might to plug it into the depths of oblivion, her body refused to obey, that electrifying tingle far too enjoyable.
Crytrauv’s claws ceased their doing, allowing Rynthara’s eyes to snap open and shift over in his direction.
“Shhh,” he silenced her with a hand over her nostrils, the tang of scented herbs tinting his pads too relaxing to let her voice her concerns. “No more speaking from either of us.”
It wasn’t a request, but a command, one that she agreed with through a curt nod. After all, what harm could it be in letting this fool do his thing? They would be parted tomorrow, thus leaving her forever denied this experience. What a convincing tale it would make, that of the fox kneeling by her side, claws combing through her fur in a slow, dignified manner.
Crytrauv’s eyes narrowed in focus, his face looming above hers, hands enclosing her peripheral vision. His palm pads sailed up and down her cheeks, allowing his finger pads to trace the bony ridges of her eyes, applying just enough pressure to lull her eyelids into a fatiguing trance.
“It would help if you close them. Makes the experience all the more intriguing.”
Again, she did his bidding, spurred forth by curiosity. Did he know just how receptive her fur was? That every strand told her directly where he went? Each hand now cupped an ear, fondling with their purple edges at first, then squeezing the soft tissue lightly while stroking the central white blotches dotting her ears. She twitched them several times in failed attempts to discourage him, his persistence both aggravating and surprising.
It was when his attention fell on her neck that Rynthara began to purr. Crytrauv made a point of dragging his thumbs down the sinuous lines weaving along the mauve, fluffy sea, adding just the slightest, most tantalizing pressure. When he reached the base of her neck, he began kneading her muscles up to her jaws, then back down, and up again. Dragons often nipped their necks in equally gentle fashion, yet they had fangs, while Crytrauv’s fingers were equipped with soft pads.
Rynthara’s limbs tensed up. Her paws pushed into the air, toes stretching, spine arching and stretching. Stars speckled her vision from the massage-induced stretch. In one swift, sudden motion, her whole frame relaxed more than it ever did in her life, rapid huffs of satisfaction rushing past her flared nostrils.
Crytrauv wasted no time in switching to her chest, trading the slow pace of his ministrations for terse, frenzied strokes. His snappy motions ruffled the fur of her breast, the thorough kneading causing her to roll from side to side, a constant, guttural moan rippling in her throat. Rynthara swung her head back, rubbing it along the ground, a forepaw kneading at Crytrauv’s hip to encourage him to keep going.
Text by
Owner Rynthara
Owner Crytrauv
DeviantArt | Group VK | Picarto | Twitter | Telegram | Boosty
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Multiple characters
Size 1920 x 1200px
File Size 1.41 MB
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