Flock's Virginity Pt. 01

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.

****

Flock's Virginity

The Claiming of the Gryphons

Part One

"Sirran, it is a pleasure to see your flock doing so well."

Xigfeldo smiled, resting on a frosty outcrop of rock that looked down over the valley, the winter season well and truly upon them, although he could not have said that the king of the gryphons was as comfortable as he was. His body kept him comfortable at all times, regardless of the temperature, and he naturally ran colder than most, though the gryphon huffed and fluffed up his feathers to stay warmer, despite the kindness and warmth in his eye. Truly, in that moment, in the heart of Xigfeldo's territory, it was the only part of him that felt very warm at all.

"I daresay the youngsters are doing better than I," Sirran chugged good-naturedly, his black, raven plumage standing out starkly against the landscape that near enough seemed to glow under a fresh blanket of snow. "They have your affinity and I still thank you for saving our flock each and every day."

Waving a claw, the silver-black dragon only smiled in turn. It was thanks that he had heard time after time again, but Sirran did so like to repeat himself. It was just one more of the things that Xigfeldo liked to tease him about, saying that he was growing sentimental and senile in his age, although the gryphon was still spry and strong. Even sometimes, Sirran found the courage to snipe back at Xigfeldo, although they didn't really have that kind of camaraderie between them when Sirran felt, duly, that he would always be in debt to the dragon who had brought his clan back from the very brink of sure destruction.

"It's nothing," Xigfeldo said softly, though he had no real reason to tread so carefully with one that he had known for so many years: times were different then. "You don't have to continue on in this vein, Sirran, for times that are long gone by. I only hope you find this territory suitable for your needs with so many eggs hatching these days. It seems that the cold agrees with them?"

The dark-feathered gryphon nodded, curling his tail around his body, although not even that would allow him the warmth that he felt that he needed. Times were too cold for that, even if his heart was warm, and there were so very many things yet that he still had to say, times alighting with sweetness in both of their hearts. Somewhere in their distance, a daughter of his keened, circling and drifting down, letting her flight spiral until the landing was hers to claim, becoming a creature of the land after dominating the air. The dragon swallowed his smirk, though he had no real reason to. Sirran knew that he had bred her and half of the offspring floating through the skies were his. The others were only not his simply because the drakes and hens had found lovers with other gryphons from other flocks, which was all well and good for them, even if they would not be as suited to the cold as others with his blood flowing through their veins.

It was the dragon's blood, after all, that had saved the flock. Just not in the way that the legend had originally intended all to play out. And it was something that Sirran, at the very least, was unlikely to be dissuaded from recounting, the gryphon clicking the edges of his beak together thoughtfully even as his head swung gravely first one way and then the other.

"It's true though," he pressed, leonine tail sweeping around to brush the dragons in an almost tender fashion. "If not for you allowing us to breed, we wouldn't be here any longer, not even my sisters and I, most likely."

"I know, old friend," Xigfeldo said softly, for he could not have said honestly that it did not pain him to consider the notion of any species or even a clan going extinct, regardless of the reason. "But it is not the time for pain when there is joy to be held. Though you dislike the cold and, truly, from some of those I have come across in my time here, I can understand that more than fully. It chills the feathers and the bones, does it not?"

It was hard for him to understand but some topics were best left laid to rest and he could not help how the gryphon felt, how he trembled in the memory of the time that they could well have been lost to the drama of the world. There could have been nothing more for him, killed or maimed by the dragoness lord (there was no other term that could be so fitting as to describe her), Massalatrix, though he required an egg, something to take them forward into a new life and light. Xigfeldo knew that words would not help the gryphon though, even though the aged, wise beast who still appeared as strong and as virile as he had in his younger years, muscle rounding out his hind end more than his front as his feathers tried to layer themselves more thickly over the downy under-layer to maintain some element of warmth at the very least. Like much with the gryphon, it was a futile endeavour, but the bliss of life and being granted that alone was more than even he had expected for himself once upon a time.

And, truly, their life and meeting had been a fairytale in itself. Xigfeldo could not and would not stop the king from recounting it and settled down, although his eyes passed over the gryphons flocking below them, swarming to the meeting place, the circle of stones that had so been placed there to mark the gravity of the ceremony, his many sons and daughters -- along with those that came from his sisters -- coming as one to bring life and light back the beginnings of their particular flock and clan.

"My sisters still don't believe that I did it," he said quietly, knowing full well that Xigfeldo would hear every word. "That I went to challenge Massalatrix, to steal an egg of hers. I thought that I could mate with the offspring of the egg, what hatched forth, when they were of an age, though that is not the right course of action, not knowing now what I do. I was a fool then, was I not?"

Xigfeldo cocked his tail, the tip of his tail curling curiously back and forth as the first flakes of the next snowfall dropped, floating and drifting, tempting at a fluttering of snow.

"I would have done the same. It improved your species, your flock, to mate with a dragon, of course, and that is something that we can still confirm now."

Of course, it did not take a master of linguistics to understand that it was Xigfeldo that Sirran had bred with, along with his sisters who could take advantage of the silver-black hybrid drake boasting both male and female sexes within his cloaca, though the journey there was an interesting story. Other dragons said that Xigfeldo liked to get himself into more difficult situations than most but he had recently maintained the ploy that it was merely his sense of adventure and exploration that led him there, though that was not in itself at all a bad thing. It made his life more interesting than most, at the very least, and that was something that a creature that had lived and would live as long as he did was very much in need of.

"Yes, yes, it did," Sirran said, his smile lighting up his eyes even though his beak could not form the expression fully. "Every one of our offspring fares better with the cold with your blood running through their veins. Though Massalatrix would not have let me survive if I had succeeded in stealing her egg. That was a long, long time ago."

"She was an old battle-axe," Xigfeldo agreed with a twinkle in his eye. "Did you know that she's still alive? She's many centuries older than me and yet there doesn't seem to be any end to her time here. Though I wouldn't say that her bloodlines would be any stronger than mine!"

They chuckled, though Sirran was quicker to cut his off in terms of respect, something that Xigfeldo was still due to tease him out of after so many years, so many generations.

"The peaks are the only place we could live now," Sirran said after a moment, eyes misty as he remembered, although the two of them could re-live that very first mating in their mind's eye as easily as anything else that had happened that very day. "Though the snows... I wish they did not last the months until spring! You'll find a pile of frozen bones here one day and then you'll be sorry for not chasing the deer into the peaks for us to more easily feed!"

"Oh, and deny you the exercise!" Xigfeldo smirked and ducked to dodge the half-hearted bat of the gryphon's forepaw, though it was not meant in any kind of true ill-intent. "That would be beyond me, truly so!"

Licking his lips, Xigfeldo lifted his tail, half-stretched out on his side, although the tease and the taunt were clear to see, even there. His cloaca flushed up full of blood, the edges protruding very slightly, his need spilling forth in the heady pulse of his aphrodisiac. When he was already aroused, which, to be fair, was most of the time when it came to the kinkily randy dragon, it took no effort at all to allow his body, very gently, to take over, pushing out his essence, the headiness of it searing through the air. It wasn't even the fact that it was so cold that made it sharper and more tantalising than ever, though it seemed sometimes like it was a scent better suited to the warmer months, the cloying richness of it clinging to one's mouth, wrapping around his tongue and swirling there, even though he had not partaken in his own taste for some time. The drake's eyes glittered, Sirran swaying, tail drooping, though not from any sense of sadness. That would have to come another time. Perhaps sooner than others.

"Remember that first time," Xigfeldo hissed, eyes glittering and head weaving back and forth as he took charge and command of the situation, tail lifted, the arch of it leading the eye down and down and down into the glistening oil coating his cloaca, shaft peeking out -- just the tip. "It was cold then too, though I do not like to disturb you during the summer months, of course, not when there are young about. So small and easy to squash, though I do enjoy seeing their first flights. It reminds me of my own, though there are so many first times..."

Sirran churred thoughtfully, although the gleam flickering up in the backs of his eyes could only mean one thing, the gryphon drake finding himself more than amenable to their little ritual and tradition. His own shaft, fleshy and pink and undulating softly as if it was angled to perfectly please a partner, eased out, his sheath tucked in close to the underside of his belly, balls hanging heavy behind them. And that was, at least, one little nuance that set him and Xigfeldo apart, being that he held his testis externally rather than Xigfeldo, whose body, cleverly, held them inside, maintaining their temperature with the mass of his body. The dragon licked his lips, rolling his lips a little, another fat globule of oily flushness rolling down his scales, splattering on the slow. So blazing was the heat between them that, even with his natural coolness, it was a wonder indeed that it did not sizzle. But maybe that would come at another time when the rocks baked under the summer sun and there weren't snowflakes tickling at his nostrils.

"The first time," he hissed, drawing Sirran in, the gryphon up and on his feet, a low growl rumbling sensually in the back of his throat. "That was a beautiful time. Knowing that I was helping in the survival of a clan, a flock, a species. Gryphons were not populous here before, though I had not spread my wings further afield at that time. We must look out for one another in good times and bad and I was more than happy to take your cock, to let you fill my vent and, of course, give you the eggs at the end of it. You didn't just have a single egg from me, not after filling my cunny over and over again."

Xigfeldo's body was not idle as he drew out the tale, letting Sirran's mind fill in the gaps, the gryphon hardly thinking about just how cold he was in that moment, the time shifting and turning in the swirl of snowflakes around them. Cold was passing but lust rose up thick and full like a studly male's cock, the dragon as alluring to him as a gryphoness in heat. Of course, he had found gryphons from far away clans to mate with after his first time with Xigfeldo but, for a good while, the dragon had been his only source of sexual relief. That was, well, if he didn't want to debase himself with such humiliating acts as grinding his cock through the slick friction of the mud for self-stimulation, his paws not really suited to such acts of masturbation. Unlike the dragon too, he lacked the ability to use his tail to masturbate or even his abdominals to slap his cock up against his furred stomach.

No... Sirran's beak hung open, a tiny, dark tongue flickering within as if he wanted to lick his beak, scoop off seed again, the tart taste of a female who so very desperately needed to be bred. No, he had to find a partner and, above all else, Xigfeldo was the one whose body made his heart pound like no other. Perhaps he had a particular thing for dragons after his innocence, or lack of it, had been devoutly claimed?

Maybe that was so. It did not matter. All that mattered was keeping his eyes fixed to Xigfeldo's driving, plunging tail, grinding into his own sex, spreading himself open, all to tease the gryphon into a lustful high. It had not been something that he'd done during their first mating but, well, anything was fair game in the name of bringing a rise of pleasure, fresh and invigorating, to rejuvenate an old alliance and one, indeed, that they sought to bring forward into each and every new century that they made their own. Friends but not partners, except in the temporary sense, their tryst was one that would continue on and on, Sirran licked his beak and crooning softly as he dipped his head to Xigfeldo's sex, up under his tail.

There was no time there for holding back, breath washing more hotly over the dragon's cloaca, cock pushing out more and more, a bulbous mass that swelled with blood into a finer, smoother shape, although one would have been hard-pressed indeed to claim that there was anything delicate about it. Elegant could have been a better word but Xigfeldo wasn't about to allow him all that much time in which to admire his aching length, tip twitching, drooling pre-cum that seemed less than white in comparison to the snow covering the ground around them.

There were pleasures to be had and Sirran was not in the mind to resist Xigfeldo's allure in the slightest as he leaned in, running his tongue softly from the base of his cock to the tip, his pussy otherwise occupied at that moment. Xigfeldo rumbled a growl, vibrating up from the back of his throat, tail thrusting and grinding, twisting that little bit so that he could better tease it up against that sensitive patch of nerves inside his pussy for that extra flash of pleasure. That pleasure, however, was not destined to be fleeting as a willing tongue swept his length, acting as if it was cleaning him of something, though all Sirran managed to do was ensure that not even his pre-cum went to waste. Droplets didn't have to leak out into the snow or down to stain the rock, after all, and could be put to better use working their way down his throat, giving him a taste of what he was to take, beak parting sweetly around that throbbing length of dragon-meat.

The fact that he was suckling on Xigfeldo's male parts was not something that Sirran was worried about, the leader of the flock in charge completely and utterly. Breeding was for males and females or, at least, where their sexes matched up in that regard (Xigfeldo as a hermaphrodite bucked that trend, of course, right away) but lust, well... That was something that anyone could enjoy, regardless of gender or sex. It was only about finding out what one liked.

And what the gryphon drake liked was the feel of a smooth cock under his tongue, sweeping his tongue up and up, seeking out the tiniest shifts in the taste of him, the heady musk that made him want to try to take the whole length into his throat all over again. Alas, the difference in their sizes and the span of his beak made that an impossible endeavour, even though it was something, still, that Sirran liked to try each and every time they met up. He was one for experimentation, after all (the dragon, that was) and he was a safer bet than taking his liberty with those that he could have otherwise have been considered a leader of.

Still... The thick scent flooding the air wrapped itself around him like a winter shawl of feathers, the thick down of it cloying, dragging him down and down. All in the very best of ways, of course, but the slurp and suck of Xigfeldo's cunny, cloaca sucking at his tail as he drew it back, was impossible to ignore, beak bumping his shaft, working its way to that prize. There was only one thing that a truly red-blooded gryphon like him wanted and, well, it was right there for the taking, tongue wickedly snaking out and lapping the dragon's tail even as his thrust.

Divine. The taste was every last bit as divinely delectable as he remembered it to be, letting out a low croon as his own shaft throbbed, drooling a thin stream of clear pre-cum. Oh, how he needed it, but the was there for the experience, slurping and lapping, tongue catching every last bit of that thick oil that he could possibly scoop up into his beak. The dragon's juices mixed with it and Xigfeldo panted softly, head tilted back, eyes gleaming with breeding passion, although the foreplay too was something that he had determined to partake in just a little more. It had a way of bringing everything to an even more heated frenzy than ever, his pussy already squeezing and clenching around his tail, dragging at it as if his own body, which easily conformed to the shape of his tail, however thick it was, his muscles caressing and squeezing, teasing him as they would a cock.

Yet it was the gryphon's cock that he was wanting, shifting into a more comfortable position on his side, legs stretched out, tail slithering out and out and out, gleaming with his juices. He swept it around to his muzzle but the gryphon was on him in an instant, his beak glistening with draconic oil, what would have driven him into a frenzy of breeding lust even if he had not been immediately amenable to fucking the larger drake. It would not turn, of course, a beast that never wanted to mate with him, but there was something tantalising about seeing that haze cast over the eyes of another, Sirran's tail lashing. Even his muscles twitched and jumped erratically, struggling with the control of his own body as he clambered up over Xigfeldo's hindquarters, cock jabbing and thrusting wildly.

"Ah..." Xigfeldo groaned, his essence affecting even him, tail twitching too close to his lips and yet not stead enough for him to actually suckle it into his mouth. "Steady there... Take it... Oh."

Sirran had not needed any assistance or persuasion, of course, letting out a shrill keen of breeding joy as his spire hit home, finding the lips of the dragon's cloaca and spearing in, deeper and deeper. It funnelled easier into the cunt within the cloaca than being led there by the dragon himself, his cock letting loose a jet of cum, spiralling into orgasm even as his feminine parts clenched and gripped the gryphon's dick salaciously, a whore's 'mouth' suckling desperately, dragging him in.

More... Xigfeldo was barely aware of his tail, glistening with his oil and the cream of his arousal too, pushing between his lips, treating it as he would the cock or even just an appendage of his partner. His tongue swirled around, cleaning and caressing, the tiny, overly-sensitive nerve-endings that could be found there tingling into over-drive, everything drawing his cock to a fervent throb, more and more cum pulsing out. He did not see it as his seed being wasted at all, not when his nuts replenished themselves as quickly as it was spilt, but there was something to the delight of it all, passion rising up, his tail tickling his tongue. No, he could make more cum and that would be spent inside some lovely, fertile gryphon hens, right where it belonged, but the gryphon king of his flock had a seeding of his own to undertake, grunting and squawking, their coming together sweetly reminiscent of their first time together.