This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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Draconic Trickery
Milking Her Sister's Mate
The black dragon swooped and circled, eyeing the land before him for prey, his sharp, red eyes latching on to the smallest shifts in the landscape, hints of movement that could denote the concealment of one who could provide him with sustenance. Zierris wasn't too bothered about concealing himself as he looped back and forth, the lines of densely packed spines running down his neck, back and tail giving the appearance of a mane of hair, although Zierris was fortunate in that the lack of hair there allowed him to regulate his body temperature better during all months of the year, naturally running colder than mammals. With his water affinity, after all, it would have been strange for his type of dragon to breathe fire, even if all dragons that he knew of could use magic.
But he was not concerned in drawing on his magic at that time, a hiss roiling sinuously from his lips as he swung his head, narrow muzzle pointed and tongue flickering. Scenting the air as he was, it could have been well enough forgotten that the drake was out there looking to satisfy the growling hunger in his stomach, not another need, but his musky scent flowed out regardless, growing stronger and stronger as he flew. Placing as much importance on scent and marking as they did, it was strange how such a strong scent could come with a tantalisingly tart edge too, like a flower so sweet that it was overpowering.
Smirking, Zierris knew too that the aroma was also akin to a deer in need and the time was right for him to lure deer in rut to him too, being mating season. Of course, the dragon was used to mating with deer in his territory and would not deny his need to breed, but, still, Zierris was on the hunt and he was not a drake to return home without a fine catch snatched up in his claws.
Ah! There!
He swallowed his growl, tail lashing in his excitement and nearly throwing him off course. A doe with a light brown coat and twitching, bobbing tail would do nicely, sprawled beside the lake with her flanks heaving and eyes half-closed. Hungrily, he zeroed in on her, jaws already parted and slathering with drool, ropes and ropes of it slithering from between his viciously sharp teeth as if he simply could not contain his desire for her. Something tightened in the pit of his gut, the slit of his belly tingling, and he folded his wings into a dive, angling for her with ruthless, lethal intent.
Down and down and down: his aim rang true. For a moment, he lost himself in the thrill of a dive, wind rushing past him, a third eyelid slipping down to protect his eyes, although he could still see clearly, better than clearly. The trees rustled with the wind of his passing, deciduous and full of a head of leaves and flowers where their kind produced such, but it was too late for the deer whose snout snapped up too late, eyes wide and a bleat escaping her muzzle. Yet who she thought she was going to warn was none of his concern as he snatched her up in his claws and lifted her clean from the face of the earth from which she was born.
She squealed and kicked but he held her carefully out and away from his body so that her cloven hooves did not connect, a flash of her paler, near-white underbelly catching his eye. Zierris rumbled a pleased growl and shook his head, marvelling at just how easily he had snatched her up -- just what had a doe like that been doing sleeping out in the open where anyone at all could have seen her, after all? It was foolish, really, and he was doing the herd a favour in the law of survival of the fittest, claiming her for himself so that the blood of the herd would grow stronger in the absence of hers.
His cave was not far and he flew there at a rapid pace as the doe stilled in his claws. She must have been tired, he reasoned, not even sparing her a glance. What did he care for the feelings or emotions of his meat? His only duty to her, as food, was to make sure her end was as quick and as clean as possible, for it was highly against dragon traditions in his culture for one to toy with their food and make a death anything less than honourable.
When he landed in the mouth of his, opening up over the tips of the pine trees on the side of the cliff, he bounded in with youth-ish glee, taking her between his jaws so that he had full use of all four feet. His tail swung back and forth like that of an overly eager feline but there was no one there to see him acting like he'd scored something truly spectacular as he dropped her there in the back of the open, roomy cave without ceremony, more than enough sunlight streaming in so that his eyes did not need to adjust to darkness in order to take what he needed for her.
And what he craved from the trembling doe, sorting out her legs as she found the strength in herself to stand, quivering in place, was the blood that pulsed beneath that so very fragile barrier of fur and skin. It was so easy to break and yet provided the predator class with so much, Zierris' mouth watering as he reared his head back, eyes fixed on the nape of her neck, the quickest spot he knew to snap and seal away her suffering forevermore.
The doe, however, looked at him directly, glaring with such force that he hesitated, doubting himself if only for a moment. Was it possible for an animal like her to give such a foreboding, dominating look like that? No, no... It didn't seem right, not right at all. A deer shouldn't be able to hold that tilt to her head, not even if she was a stag with a haughty rack of antlers to behold -- but he hadn't wanted a stag that day at all when he'd really wanted a doe.
Thrusting the confusion from his mind, Zierris growled, sides vibrating lightly in anticipation of the kill.