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Marcille had known about the behaviour of dragons long before Falin picked up her staff and joined them down in the dungeons. She might not be Laios - willing to run straight into a monster’s arms in the pursuit of edible knowledge, but she’s not a fool. She knew that Falin’s resurrection and rebirth would come with challenges, but none so unexpected or horrifying that she could turn away from the only girl she’d ever loved.
And learning Falin’s new quirks is fun.
Marcille soon gets used to being scented, Falin rubbing her face against Marcille’s throat until she’s purring like a contented cat, stumbling into Laios’ palace meetings with bruises in the shape of Falin’s teeth. She becomes accustomed to Falin’s strength, the way Falin can easily heft her over one shoulder, carrying her away whilst Marcille giggles and pretends to be a damsel in distress.
Marcille knows about scale dermatitis, and feather moult, and ingrown talons, and heat cycles.
She’s certainly getting first-hand knowledge about heat cycles.
Falin has Marcille on her belly on the bed, nightgown hiked up just enough that Marcille feels exposed and dirty about it. There’s no escape from the way Falin has her pinned, one hand on the back of Marcille’s neck, fingers curled into claws. It makes Marcille want to struggle, to feel Falin dig in, draw blood.
“Marcille,” Falin says breathily. The head of her dragon cock is wet with precome, she rubs it against the folds of Marcille’s cunt until Marcille whines. “Oh, my pretty girl.”
“All yours,” Marcille chokes out, “Yours, yours-“
Falin grips the fat of Marcille’s hip with her other hand, grunting as she pushes inside. She sounds animalistic, nothing like the sweet girl who first captured Marcille’s heart. Marcille’s cunt throbs in anticipation of being filled, the air driven out of her lungs when Falin buries her thick cock deep inside.
“Oh-“ Marcille whimpers, and Falin snaps her hips forward, causing her to cry. “Falin!”
“Sweet thing,” Falin says, trying to soothe, but she’s fucking Marcille hard, flesh slapping against flesh, no sign of stopping. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Marcille drops her head, unable to hold it up anymore, and grinds herself downwards. Her nipples are hard, pleasure shooting through her body as she rubs them against the sheets, and she bites down on her bottom lip, enough to split the skin.
“Perfect,” Falin says, breathless, the ridges of her cock driving Marcille insane. “You’re so perfect, so good – so -tight-“
She covers Marcille’s body with her own, feathers tickling Marcille’s back. She’s a heavy solid weight against Marcille, and Marcille’s moans are smothered as she’s pushed into the mattress. Falin nips and kisses at Marcille’s neck, breaths coming thick and fast, like a dog mounting.
“Marcille,” Falin says hot in Marcille’s ear, “Marcy.”
Marcille tries to speak but her mouth is smothered by fabric. She clenches around the cock inside of her instead, and Falin groans, giving a heavy thrust that makes Marcille squeak. The hand pinning her to the mattress winds itself around her long hair, pulling her neck backwards so that Marcille can breathe.
“Fuck,” Marcille sobs out, tears dribbling down her cheeks. She feels stuffed full of Falin’s cock, her cunt hurting with how hard Falin is pounding into her. She cries out again, unable to stop herself. “Ohhhh.”
“So perfect,” Falin says, her voice a low rumble. “Mine, mine, mine-“
She drives herself forward, fucking Marcille until Marcille can’t hold herself upright anymore, letting her body go limp and pliant in Falin’s grasp. Falin groans, increasing the grip on Marcille’s hair to keep her steady, and Marcille drools embarrassingly.
“Gonna-“ Falin grunts, “Fill you up, get you bred, c’mon Marcy, c’mon my love-“
“Yes,” Marcille is seconds away from her own pleasure, her clit throbbing between her legs like a heartbeat, “Please, please, Falin, I need-“
Falin comes with a harsh noise, echoing around Marcille’s head until everything is Falin, hot and disgusting and wanting. Her cunt is flooded with Falin’s hot seed, some of it dribbling down her thighs, no matter how Falin’s thick cock keeps her plugged. Marcille’s mouth drops open and she wails, stomach aching as she takes all of Falin, and more.
“Good,” Falin breathes, “Good girl.”
Marcille makes a stupid noise, grinding back against Falin’s cock. She needs to come, but she knows Falin is too fucked out to realise, still continuing to thrust into Marcille’s cunt. Marcille manages to get the feeling back into her arm and works it between her body and the mattress, circling her fingers around her clit.
“Hmm?” Falin asks curiously, but Marcille ignores her.
She teases herself until her toes are curling, and the pleasure washes through her, whistling in her ears as her mind goes blank. Marcille drops forward, panting into the sheets, and squirms against her fingers, dredging the final shocks of satisfaction until everything is sweet and still.
The bedroom is quiet apart from their joint heavy breathing, and then Falin stretches, clicking her joints with a roll of her shoulders. Her cock is still buried inside of Marcille, with no sign of softening or indeed, pulling out.
“Thank you.” Marcille blurts out before she can stop herself. “That was… yes. Good.”
Falin hums happily, and leans forward to press kisses to Marcille’s neck and the top of her spine. “You’re welcome.” She says, then nuzzles into her. “You’re my favourite.”
Marcille blushes at being Falin’s favourite, heat spreading from her cheeks right up to the tips of her ears. Falin doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to mouth at her until their lips finally meet, and they sink into a slow kiss, that makes Marcille’s head spin. With some difficulty, they manage to roll onto their sides, Falin’s cock still spearing open Marcille’s cunt.
“You’re my favourite too.” Marcille breathes, tasting blood in Falin’s mouth. “Always.”
“Yay,” Falin says, and rubs their noses together, which makes Marcille giggle like a schoolgirl. Then Falin pauses, drawing back to look Marcille in the eye. “Marcy?”
“Mm?” Marcille says, running her tongue across her bottom lip where teeth marks are still embedded. She can’t even begin to imagine what she looks like, the famed Mage of the New Golden Kingdom, with her hair matted, throat bruised, cum drying on her thighs.
Falin has the audacity to look innocent, eyelashes fluttering. “Can we… go again?”
Marcille doesn’t even hesitate.
“Yes,” She says, and clenches around Falin’s cock.