Brash and the Schrodinger Snare Ch. 03

My tongue slurped up the juices my finger and palm had collected. It was quite a lot of slickness, by the way. She was positively dripping with arousal. My eyes didn't leave hers as I licked, and from the way P90's legs quivered, she liked seeing me so eagerly devour her juices.

She tasted like bubblegum.

Like...

Exactly like bubblegum.

I dropped to my knees, grabbing her thighs, sliding my hands to the backs of her knees. P90 barely had time to grab onto the few handholds the wall of the kitchen offered her before I lifted her up and dove in. My mouth pressed to the folds of her sex and I slid my tongue into her, my nose grinding against the white and pink speckled jellybean that was her eager little clitty. As I teased her clit, my tongue tasted the exotic swirl of flavors that came from eating out a candy golem. Her skin was bubblegum and her juices were bubblegum, but as my tongue quested inside her soaked cunny, I tasted first gum, then tangy lemon, then zesty watermelon, then a shocking burst of pure sourness. But touching that sourness made P90 lock up, her legs clenching, her heels drumming against my back as she arched her spine.

And so, I attacked. My tongue swirled against the sour, feeling it burn against my tongue. It grew more and more intense, making me screw up my face, my eyes closing. But the pleasure was so obvious on P90's face and in her ragged, gasping breathing, and in her incredibly quite grunts of: "Brash, oh Brash, oh Brash!"

So, I kept on tonguing that sour bit.

And then...

Pure. Sugary Sweet. It was as if the sour had worn away, revealing a sweetness that was as soothing as it was delicious. And once again, P90 was biting down on her wrist to keep her strangled screams from waking up the whole freaking yacht. More bubblegummy juices burst in my mouth. They dripped along my jaw, leaving it slick and sticky. It dripped off my chin, spattered onto the ground, puddling on the formerly pristine floor of this brand new spelljammer. I kept drinking and drinking and drinking – but I drew my tongue slowly back, popping it free as I grinned. Her pussy remained open and inviting for just a moment, and her ragged panting was punctuated by a growled command.

"Fuck me right fucking now you fucking-"

I literally flew to my feet. My cock slapped against her nearly perfectly soaked pussy lips. I caught her mouth with mine – forcing her to taste her own mixture of flavors – and slammed home. Hard. So, uh. When I said that I had a big freaking huge ass dragon dong, this was not a lie. I went for anything between ten to sixteen inches, depending on how impressive and or scary I wanted to be. In a universe with minotaurs and zebra-men, you can never be packing too much heat, you know what I mean? But here's where dragons prove their eternal superiority in the sweet art of making love to fine women.

Cause while I may have a big dong...not every girl wants a big dong.

Fortunately, I was a fucking shapeshifter. Literally. So, that meant that as I slammed home into P90s sour then sweet pussy, I shifted my cock to suit her perfectly. This took a lot of practice, I'll have you know. I hissed, ducking my head forward, nuzzling against her neck as I pinned her against the wall, letting my cock grow a few extra ridges to grind against the parts of the candy golem that seemed to bring even more pleasure. Once she was at the perfect level of full and ground against...I started to thrust.

P90 looked as if she hadn't thought this far ahead, and was even more shocked to feel my cock (which, by the way, was only a few inches smaller – P90 was apparently a size queen!) plunging into her. My mouth and hers met again, forcing to keep her moans and gasps of pleasure nearly silent. The loudest part of our fucking was the wet slurp and slick noises of her cunny as I slammed into her, and the soft pap pap pap sounds of my balls beating her pink rump like a drum. But P90 was tough. She took it with quivering orgasms, rather than saying 'ow.'

Her fingers dug into my shoulders and she broke the kiss by jerking back, hissing loudly. "Oh god oh god oh god!"

I grinned. "Hey don't worship me until I'm done, baby."

P90 looked at me cross-eyed, her face going slack as her back arched. Her breath caught and she shuddered from toe to hair, her breasts mashing against my chest as her orgasm tightened around my cock, practically begging for me to fill her to the brim. Yeah! My smooth talk worked! I grinned and let my self control relax. My balls sung as they tightened and my whole body trembled in time with her as I growled.

Ever hear a dragon growl as they came?

It's...and I'm not being egotistical here...the sexiest sound a male can make in the galaxy. It's fierce and intensely masculine. Like, hearing a dragon growl as they climax deep inside of a willing girl will complete a FTM transition without needing another testosterone shot. Hearing a dragon growl in orgasmic pleasure will make wizards grow five beards at once. And there's also a delicious sense of raw danger. Because as dragons growl and pump their cum inside of women, they're letting the mask drop.

We're dragons.

Raw.

Primal.

Masters of sky and sea and air and the stars. Power unrivaled by all but the mightiest monsters and most trained heroes. We're something less than gods and more than mortals, and the stars themselves burn because we will it. It was a heady feeling, every bit of that pure truth surging through my nerves. I shuddered and panted heavily, watching as P90's face went slack, her eyes half closed. Smoke trailed from my nostrils and I breathed quickly to scatter it before it set off the fire alarms in the kitchen.

P90 breathed in the smoke, shuddering as she orgasmed again – a tiny little orgasm that came as an aftershock, like the aftermath of an earthquake. It tightened her around me, and caused another thick drollop of my bright white cum to slip out from around the seal my cock made on her. It pattered to the floor, adding to the puddle she had made.

"Holy fuck," she whispered.

I grinned. "Welcome to my harem, P90." I said, cheerfully. "Don't worry, I'm not a jerk about it. You can bang other guys, and I'll get you cake and stuff!"

P90 blinked. Her mouth opened, then closed it. Then, blushing, she muttered. "D-Don't get a big head, Brash."

Which, I hasten to point out, was not a no.

***

I sat on the dashboard of the Rusty Dragon. Cindi sat behind me, while G282 stood protectively behind Kira, who was sitting in the other passenger seat that was behind the pilot seat, which was held by P90, who was absently petting me, her finger sliding along my spine. Cindi, grinning, reached out and started to pet me too. I cheered. "Yay! Petting! Also, we're dropping out of subspace in-"

We dropped out of subspace.

There, sprawling before us, was Necronox IV. It glittered brilliantly and I shook my head slowly. It was one thing to see lots of little glitters in a hologram, but it was another thing to see that it wasn't just glittering with tiny lights. It was a city. A huge, sprawling, massive city. I could see it in more detail with my eyeballs (they're fancy dragon eyeballs, see) and I could see the millions upon millions upon millions of buildings, each one thrusting from vast plains of blue-white snow, which itself was only faintly visible between the buildings. Glowing lights and neon flared across the planet's surface, making it look like an entire night sky.

The forward computer bleeped and cheeped. The IFF built into the ship was starting to speak to the navigational systems of Necronox IV. I nodded, looking at them. "Okay, we should get someone asking us what our deal is...now!"

Cindi nodded. Kira breathed in slowly.

"Hey, wait!" I said. "What is the political ramifications that G282 asked about? I was going to ask about that, but I got distracted-"

"Rusty Dragon, this is Necobase Prime. Please state your business in Camarilla space." The voice was female and very bored sounding.

Kira licked her lips, then picked up the communicator. "This is Princess Kira Preen Nashem Vin Lim."

There was a very long pause.

Then the voice over the radio said. "Y-Your, uh, flight plan has been logged, Princess. Welcome to Necronox."

I slowly narrowed my eyes at Kira. She was looking reserved. Grim. Focused. Dedicated. I frowned slightly. Something hinky was going on here. But the only way to find out was to go down to the planet's surface. And so, we did!

***

The Rusty Dragon soared down through the eternal night of Necronox IV's sprawling ubercity, flying past the massive vertical blood towers – created by the cunning use of decanters of endless water and the mummy's curse of water into blood – and I was looking right at Kira, still trying to figure her out what her deal was. Then Cindi hissed loudly. "Holy fuck."

I snapped my head around. The ubercity was suddenly looking a lot sparse – the huge skyscrapers were being left behind. In their place was a single massive palace. There were huge walls of bone, interlocking together to form imposing spikes and towers. Guards – skeleton guards – stood at various watchtowers, glaring around them with glowing red eyes. Meanwhile, the omnipresent snow that drifted down from overhead fell into huge gardens that looked like they had been made to be snowed on. Glassy ice covered ponds and snow dusted trees decorated the field, while I could see deer with white pelts bounding by underneath us, scared off by our shadow. The center of the palace was a huge sprawling mansion, easily four stories tall, looking like it had been constructed out of the best materials. Shimmering obsidian wood, dark red tiles, glittering glass, with warm orange light glowing from each window. It looked warm and welcoming.

"Who lives here?" I asked.

"King Lioncourt," Kira said, her voice soft.

"Whose that?" I asked.

"He's a king," G282 said, quietly. "He's led the Camarilla since the last vampires fled Earth in the 1400s." She looked at me. "They've been breeding here for the past six centuries."

"Whoa," I said, slowly.

"I...didn't know vampires were real," Cindi said, sounding like someone had stolen her voice and she had to use some voice prosthetic.

P90 gently brought the Rusty Dragon around to land in the open clearing before the front of the mansion. Several maids and butlers that looked quite prim and proper stood before the front door. They were all elves, meaning they had very long ears and beautiful builds. The maids had very short skirts. If the cold bothered them, they didn't show it. Of course, since they had blue-white skin and pure silver hair, I was pretty sure they were frost elves. I stepped off the gangplank first, my skin prickling and buzzing with the deep chill. Cindi and Kira were kept back by P90 until she could get herself off the ship and look around for assassins or murderous bad mens.

But before Cindi or Kira could get off the front door exploded outwards and a huge, horrifying monster stepped out. It looked like a huge mound of gristle and muscle, with long black bat eats and teeth the size of my whole body. It had tiny wings and arms that hung low and gorilla-long, literally dragging along the snow as it surged forward, the maids and the butlers scrambling for cover. The horrifying monster walked towards me, snarling – and to my shock, it sounded a lot like a girl.

"So, you finally decided to show your fa-" The monster blinked, then started to shrink as it walked towards me. Muscle and fur folded back, wings reduced, ears shrank, fangs shimmered down, until I was looking, nose to nose, into the eyes of a girl. She had long black hair, brilliant red eyes, gray-green skin, and smallish, a-cup breasts. She wore a Metallica T-shirt and ragged jeans and floated about an inch off the ground. She grinned at me. "Who are you?"

I beamed. "I'm Brash, the dragon!" I said, holding out my hand.

She chuckled. She had a cute voice – low and wry, like everything was a joke. She floated a circle around me, sniffed once, then laughed. "Dang, I've never met a dragon before. You married?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No. Why?" I asked. "Also, uh, who are you?" I asked, curiously.

The girl grinned. Wickedly. "My name's Alexandress, the vampire princess." She took my hand – and with a flourish, she slipped a ring around my finger. I blinked slowly. That ring was so very shiny. It was bright gold and it glittered brilliantly, with a teeny tiny ruby on it. But more than that, the ring tasted like a long desire finally fufilled. It was a delicious emotion, and I reveled in feeling it against my skin. I was about to thank Alexandress the Vampire Princess for her kind gift when I was jarred from my thoughts.

"WHAT!?" Kira screamed, stepping off the ship past P90's arms. "Alex, you bitch, what the FLIP!?"

"Snooze you lose, Kay!" Alex said, grinning, then took my hand. I blinked again.

"Wait, sorry, what did you say?" I asked, realizing that Alex had said something after introducing herself.

She cackled. "You're my husband to be now, Brashie." She tapped my nose. "Boop."

"I'm a what now?" I asked.

Alex jerked my wrist forward. She was shockingly strong. I staggered, my bare feet dragging on the snow. I had remembered to make pants and a shirt this time, but I had forgotten a shoe or two. Still, I was so focused on keeping my balance that I didn't even have time to yank my wrist free from Alex's hand as she hummed and flew forward. Behind me, burly looking guards were emerging from the wings, spears at the ready. They formed a phalanx between me and the rest of the party, including a seriously honked off looking P90.

Then we were inside and Alex called out. "Dadddyyyy!"

The inside of the mansion maintained the utter opulence of the outside. There was a distand sound of music and conversation, coming from the left wing – and I could see a bunch of maids carrying wine glasses filled with blood towards a large door that seemed to lead into an equally large ballroom. The maids were walking quickly, and I could see one had a pair of neck chomps on her neck. I blinked slowly, but before I could say anything, a hideous monster literally stretched out of my shadow, twisting, popping, grinding and squealing. Muscle flexed, eyeballs flared, and finally the hideousness formed into a rather nice looking man with green-gray skin and long elf-like ears, dressed in a rather nice three piece suit.

"Yes, honey?" he asked, sounding tired. "I did expect you to spend most of your time in the ballroom with your suitors."

"Oh, that's just the thing, Daddio," Alex said, grinning. "I picked a suitor."

"Hi!" I said, cheerfully, waving at the man in the suit. "Are you King Lioncourt? Why do I have this ring on my finger?" I craned my arm around, trying to show him the ring, which was a bit hard, since Alex was still holding it in her vice-like grip.

King Lioncourt gaped at me, then at his daughter, then at me. "You can't be serious!"

"You said I couldn't leave until I picked a suitable suitor," she said. "I picked one. Brashie here. We're so in love." She pressed her ice cold cheek to mine.

"She what!?" A furious bellow came from the ballroom.

I looked over. A sinking feeling was growing in my tummy that I was just a little bit out of my element. A vampire who looked like he spent most of his time running around and beating up people who said he didn't look very posh was striding out, followed by a meek nerdy boy of a vampire – he was even wearing glasses.

"You told me that Princess Alexandress would give us all a fair shake!" the burly vampire bellowed. "But she hasn't even spoken to my son!"

"Orlock-" King Lioncourt said, holding up his hand.

"The Brujah have never been more insulted! Not in two centuries of Tremere rule!" The burly vampire, who I presumed was named Orlock, stepped forward. "I ought to-"

"Oh, trust a Brujah to leap right to fisticuffs in the middle of Elysium?" An incredibly posh voice said from behind me. I craned my head around. A woman with a blood red dress that looked like it was about fifty to sixty percent collar was standing behind us, a haughty looking girl who looked nearly identical save that she was in a black dress whose neckline plunged almost to her belly button. "What are you going to do next, Count Orlock? Leap right to diablerie?"

Count Orlock trembled with rage. Alex, I noticed, had pulled out a carton of popcorn from somewhere and was chomping on it happily, floating on her back like she was reclining in the air.

"One more word out of you, you Ventrue witch," Orlock snarled.

"Don't call my mother a witch, dog!" The Ventrue's daughter snarled. Claws actually sprouted from her fingertips.

A gurgling laugh came from behind Orlock. Another vampire and their offspring was coming in. EEESUGHGGHG! Like, oh my god, I don't want to be a dick, but these two vampires hadn't just been beaten by an ugly stick. The ugly stick had been abusing them for years, easily. The older one's face looked like it had been pressed up against a cheese grater that was also made of acid, leaving his nose as an oozing, gaping hole. His lips were skinned back and his teeth were hideous and black. His daughter seemed to be quite proud of her looks – the patchy skin, the bits of fur, the fact one of her breasts seemed to be missing. This was because she was wearing an outfit nearly as revealing as the Ventrue's.

"Well, well, well," the uglo-vampire said, clapping slowly. "Finally, someone called the Lady Tia Brando a witch to her face. Still not risking bringing your kid Dio out?"

"You leave Dio out of this, Nos," Lady Brando snarled, her eyes flashing.

"This is fucking amazing," Alex whispered in my ear.

"I'm so lost," I said.

The jingle of a collar rang out and then a huge incredibly fluffy wolf padded in, followed by a vampire teenager who looked like he was made of embarrassment and utter mortification. The wolf's collar had a tiny translator on it, and a nametag: Sir Fioran Tepes. The wolf made a barking noise and the translator chirruped: "What's all this? Why's everyone shouting?"

"Dad, god," the embaressed son of Fioran Tepes whispered. "Please, shift back to human."

"Son, we're Gangrels, this is our heritage," Tepes barked back.

"Can I pet him?" I whispered to Alex.

"Maybe!" she said, cheerfully.

"You're the best wife!" I was starting to warm to this betrothal thing.

By now, the various vampire adults were shouting at one another. Tepe's son looked like all he wanted to do was to get his dad to shift to human form. Brando's daughter was getting in the Nosferatu's daughter (I mean, what else would Nos stand for in a room of vampires?) and calling her lots of awful things. King Lioncourt was standing in the midst of this, his palm pressed against the Brujah's chest to keep him from socking the Nosferatu dad in the face. The shouting clamor was getting louder and louder and I saw no way to get at Tepes to pet him.

Alex tapped the last popcorn scraps into her mouth.

King Lioncourt roared.

It wasn't quite a dragon roar.

But it was close.

"SILENCE!" Tentacles of goopy red blood shimmered into existence around him, wrapping around arms, necks, chests. Vampires were smashed into the walls, each one a safe distance away from the others. Every vampire was stunned into silence as King Lioncourt stood there, his suit rippling as magical energies crackled along his body. He glared at everyone, his eyes glowing brilliant red. "No decisions have been made. My daughter has yet to pick a spouse." He scowled. "And she also knows that the only alien spouse I will possibly entertained is the one betrothal she has, Princess Kira."