Lord Cinderbottom hovered elegantly above the ground, staring out at the sunset. He had told that silly master to meet him here at sunset, and yet he still floated here alone. Perhaps he was busy with last minute students, the winged lord considered, when the sudden sound of hooves upon the earth caught his attention. “Bjorn,” He breathed, a stream of flame passing through his jaws as he dragged out the name of the white unicorn before him. Bjorn, the headmaster of the academy, tossed his dark blue mane in an amused whinny, taking a tentative step back to avoid the flame that Cinderbottom had conjured. “I thought you might not show up,” the wyvern said. “There were a few last minute students. I had to ensure that they were settled.” Bjorn dipped his head, finally coming up beside the dragon. Far behind them, there was the all-too-familiar sound of pegs being struck. The Lord glanced towards the headmaster with slight concern, “Tula is handling them. We will not be disturbed.”
The pale horse reassured his lover, and lowered his head, his spiraled horn trailing down the dragon’s pale and soft stomach. Cinderbottom’s wings lifted him higher, just enough to make the unicorn’s job a bit easier. The sun fell a bit further, giving the two a mite of privacy. Their affair was no secret, but they still met upon this hill, perhaps to keep the spark alive. There was something about guilt that made the entire experience that much…hotter. A heavy plume of smoke burst from the dragon’s nostrils as Bjorn’s horn came to the base of his tail, passing over his vent. “Do not tease me, Bjorn,” Cinderbottom hissed, though it was hard to mask the pleasure in his tones. Another quiet chuckle came from beneath the Lord, and he rattled as the unicorn made another pass, now circling the vent. The wyvern cried out as Bjorn succumbed to the master’s pitiful sounds. With a careful toss his head, his powerful horn’s tip disappearing within the dragon.
Fire bubbled from his jaws, spilling towards the ground before he unleashed a torrent of flame towards the clouds. Cinderbottom’s wings gave out for a single moment, and he found the full length of the headmaster’s horn within in. His legless lower half clenched, seizing around his leader’s spiraled spike. With nothing but mischief in mind, Bjorn jostled his head, causing the wyvern to sputter flames in lieu of cries. The Lord writhed in midair, his movements elegant and yet completely erratic, entranced in absolute passion that he so infrequently received. ”Cease!” He cried out, finally finding the words among the flames. But Bjorn could not heed him yet, finding his own pleasure in bobbing his head, bathing in the flames that rained around him and the cries that his partner uttered. Cinderbottom did not protest, allowing the catching of his nerves to lower and lift him from Bjorn’s second phallus.
Only when the sun had completely disappeared into the hills, and even the sound of pegs could not be heard, did the pair find themselves exhausted. Bjorn’s own true appendage had exposed itself, spilling its milky contents onto the grass below while Cinderbottom’s own seed had waterfall’d downward. His serpentine form was splayed along the grass now, while Bjorn had laid beside him, his chin rested upon the wyvern’s back. It was there they would rest until the quiet music of morning and the pinging of pegs roused them from their slumber, commanding that they part until the next time…