The Teakeeper and the Dragon

The Dragon on the east side of the mountain did not like visitors. In fact, Eloisa (owner of Little Gables Shoppe of Tea & Tisanes) had never heard of someone going into the Dragon's lair and coming out alive. Some said this was because he roasted them. Some said this was because he skewered them. Some said worse things. But after consulting three old Hags, a woodland Pixie, and a Wizard, Eloisa was sure that the Dragon was the only one who had what she needed. So she put on her most stylish fireproof cape, snuck a few daggers into her boots, and took a hike to the east side of the Mountain.

The entrance was largely unremarkable. In fact, there were many caves in the area, and it would have been easy to mistake the Dragon's lair for any of the other caves... but there were some pretty obvious scorch marks on the earth around the entryway. Eloisa steeled herself, tightened the belt around her most stylish fireproof cape, and stepped inside.

"Hello?" she asked. Well, she didn't quite ask. She kind of hollered. She'd heard Dragons didn't like to be surprised. She walked deeper into the cave without pausing for a reply. The deeper in she ventured, she began to observe stacks of books on the cave floor.

"Hello?" she hollered again. Paperbacks, hardcovers, leather-bound volumes... at first, Eloisa assumed they must all be the same book because they were stacked haphazardly. But she would have been wrong -- shelves bowed under the weight of enormous volumes on foreign lands were similarly stocked with cheap paperbacks. Hardcover history volumes were piled in one corner next to a rolling shelving cart of craft books. Then there were other piles -- mysteries, thrillers, romance novels. Eloisa's eyebrows went up when she saw a First Edition copy of 'The Milkmaid and the Minotaur'.

"Who dares to enter my abode?" snarled a voice from deep within the shrouded darkness.

Eloisa stood up straight, blinking her eyes rapidly. She tried not to blush, and she threw her shoulders back. She was on a mission. She couldn't afford to get distracted by a rare copy of the best-selling romance novel this side of the Western Kingdoms.

"My name is Eloisa. I am the owner of Little Gables Shoppe of Tea & Tisanes, on the West Side of the mountain. I am here for -- "

"You have come to steal my treasure," roared the Dragon. In the darkness, two nearly phosphorescent blue slit eyes appeared as if by magic.

"I most certainly have not," Eloisa snapped, indignant. "I am merely here for a book. A cookbook. 'Lapsang Souchong for the Advanced Teakeeper: A Masterclass' by Gregor Gregorovich."

"You are here for my treasure," the Dragon said, the blue flame-like eyes narrowing.

"I just told you," Eloisa said, losing her patience, "I am here to borrow a book."

With a gust of cool, inky air, the eyes in front of her vanished. Then the voice came from behind her:

"You forget yourself, Teakeeper," said the Dragon's voice, smooth and silky next to her ear. Eloisa felt something lurch in her stomach, but it wasn't fear or aggression. The Dragon's voice was soft, almost velvety in its foreign accent, which she couldn't quite place. The feeling -- she wouldn't dare call it butterflies -- was more like warmth, the kind of spicy warmth best attributed to a hot chai blend with spiced honey.

She straightened even more determinedly and turned to face him, steeling herself for an enormous scaly beast. She even put a hand on her hip for emphasis-- but he was somehow still half-hidden in shadow. She could make out a vague, human-ish shape in the darkness, but not much else.

"I'm here on behalf of my benefactor, the legendary Witch Batty Velarczyck," Eloisa said. "And I was informed that you had the book I am looking for so that I can finish her tisane."

"Ah, yes, the widow Velarczyck," said the Dragon in a soft sigh. "I remember her. She was delightfully wicked. She raised prize chickens."

"Yes," Eloisa said in surprise, "She asked for a very specific type of tea, which I can only partially blend. I need the recipe from this book in order to complete the recipe."

"Ah. I see. Nonetheless, this is not a library," the Dragon said slowly.

"Are you sure?" Eloisa asked drily. "You certainly have enough books to stock The Library of Sunken Peaks, over and over again."

To Eloisa's surprise, the Dragon laughed. "I remember Sunken Peaks. Lovely little collection," he said, finally stepping into the light. Eloisa's breath caught in her throat.

All the stories had warned that the Dragon was deadly -- but that wasn't the first thought in Eloisa's mind. In his human form, he was tall, with broad shoulders and high cheekbones. His skin was flecked with red and black scales, and behind him curved a pair of enormous red leathery wings. He had two sets of curved black horns and a devilish smile. But all that was of little interest to Eloisa. She was transfixed by his brilliant blue-slit eyes, which were behind a set of simple circular glasses. She thought of the taste of Earl Grey with cornflower, with bergamot, with vanilla...

"Oh," she said quietly, reaching for the first thing in her mind: "You remember Sunken Peaks...? You must be very old."

For a moment she felt her stomach drop-- would he be insulted? Would he roast her alive? But his grin only widened.

"I am old indeed," he said, "Some would even say ancient. I have been collecting books since long before you were alive. I will continue long after you are dead and buried."

"Sure, sure," Eloisa said with a roll of her eyes before she could help herself. "And when's the last time you got out of this cave? It's no wonder you have to have glasses. There is no sunlight in here. If all you do all day is read, it must be a very boring existence indeed."

"It is not boring. And I don't just read," the Dragon said, his smile disappearing. "I also eat any young maiden stupid enough to wander in asking insipid questions."

"I'm just saying," Eloisa shrugged, "There's a whole wide world out there full of adventures that aren't on paper. Might do you some good to get out once in a while."

His eyes flashed dangerously. "You are asking for trouble," he snarled.

"No," she said firmly. "I am asking for one chapter of one book, which I am now positive that you have somewhere in this enormous collection." she waved her hand as if swatting away his doubts. "Please direct me, and I will be on my way."

"This is not a library," the Dragon repeated, his eyes narrowing.

"Hmm. Then perhaps I can buy it?" Eloisa asked.

"Certainly not!" the Dragon said. "My books are precious things. I cannot sell off part of my hoard to any pretty young maiden who bats her eyelashes and charms me." Eloisa's blush deepened, but the Dragon did not pause in his tirade: "Money means nothing to me. I would never sell even a single volume."

"Well... then maybe I can trade something," Eloisa said slowly. "I really need that book -- and you said yourself it's for a good cause."

At that, the Dragon paused. "A trade...?" he asked. Then he shook his head again. "What could you possibly offer me?"

"I own a tea shop that is renowned through all the seven mountain kingdoms," said Eloisa. "We have every flavor you can think of. Magical teas grant the drinker strength, speed, and wisdom. They are delicious and unique. I will bring you a blend of my own creation. A blend that tastes akin to whatever you'd like. How does that sound?"

The Dragon considered. "And you will brew this tea for me?" he asked.

"Yes. Whatever recipe you wish." she said, feeling that same warmth as before. She couldn't explain why she wanted this to work out so badly, but she did.

"Alright," he said finally, tapping his chin in thought. "It is on the third floor, with a section of the cookbooks."

"Third floor?" Eloisa's eyebrows went up.

"Yes...there is some fantasy fiction up there too..."

"You don't know exactly where it is?" she asked.

The Dragon hesitated, then said, "I suppose I could help you look."

"Thank you."

He held up a candelabra and breathed a small puff of bright red flame to light it.

Despite herself, Eloisa wondered how warm his mouth must be, able to breathe fire like that whenever he wished. She wondered what such a mouth would taste like.

Pushing the distracting thoughts aside, she followed the Dragon up two flights of stairs to the third floor, which was similarly messy. Long dark wooden shelves held volume after volume after volume. A sliding ladder rested on the shelves, and stacks of more books lay on the wooden floors.

"We can start in this section," the Dragon said. "It must be in this section. Magical cookbooks."

Eloisa tried to tamp down her excitement at the sight of all the sorcery and delicious recipes in front of her. She ran her hand along the spines, waiting for something to jump out at her. Despite herself, she found herself perusing through a volume about magical scones -- different types of wild berries gave the flavor of the scones, sweet or sour.

She found a recipe for aphrodisiac cookies in the shape of a heart. She pondered the ingredients, in turns preposterous and lewd, before she heard his amused voice behind her.

"Hm. I thought we were looking for a book on tea?"

"We are," she said, hurriedly slapping the book shut and hurrying it back to the shelves.

Hours passed, in which they took turns reading out titles and getting lost in recipe after recipe. At one point the Dragon found a book about a valiant knight who became a chef, and he disappeared into the story. Eloisa caught herself staring at him and forced herself to speak, to tear him away from his precious books.

"I thought we were getting closer," she yawned. "But this shelf seems to be all scones. Do you know what time it is?"

"A little after midnight," the Dragon said, not looking up from his tome.

"Midnight?! I must go," Eloisa said.

"Oh. Well. We can look again tomorrow," said the Dragon with a shrug, finally looking at her, leveling her with those brilliant blue eyes.

"You're sure it's here?" she asked.

"Positive." he said.

"I'm just worried about Batty," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "The recipe is to help her eyesight. You know it's been getting worse and worse..."

"I didn't know," he said in concern. "Hm. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps I have spent too much time in the dark..." He muttered to no one in particular.

Eloisa barely heard him. "I'll be back tomorrow with the tea so that we can make the trade," she said, hurrying to the front of the cave.

"You should know you were wrong about me," the Dragon said as she walked.

"About what?" she asked distractedly.

"The young maidens didn't mind being eaten," he said with a crooked grin. "In fact, I think they quite enjoyed it."

Her face burning, Eloisa straightened her spine and did not look back.

The road back home was treacherous in the dark, and she was exhausted by the time she reached her little cottage -- but when she collapsed into her bed she could not rest. Whenever she closed her eyes, she only saw a flash of the Dragon's scales and heard the cool timbre of his voice. She tossed and turned all night. It wasn't until just before dawn that she realized what was bothering her. She never asked his name.

So, when she arrived at the cave a little after Sunrise with a tin of caramel apple tea, (along with fresh honeycomb and a jar of cream), the first thing out of her mouth was,

"Hello? Hello? Dragon, I am here for the trade, but I must ask -- "

"I have your book, teakeeper," he interrupted her with a note of pride in his voice. "It was just misfiled. I searched all night for it."

She looked at him in astonishment -- astonishment that tasted rather like a bitter green blend, without honey or lemon. Bitter, bitter, bitter -- bitter that meant she would have no excuse to linger.

"You did that for me?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. Now, if there is nothing else, let us see what you have brought to trade."

"Oh. It is a caramel apple blend. I also brought honeycomb and cream," she muttered.

"I hope it's enough to sate your appetite."

"We will see."

"We will?"

"Yes. You are the Teakeeper after all, I would trust no one else to brew it. The kitchen is this way."

Stunned into muteness, Eloisa followed the Dragon to his kitchen. It was rustic, with wrought iron furnishings and a wood-burning stove. He put the kettle on and puffed more red fire into the oven, and again Eloisa was unconsciously tempted to think of his warm mouth on hers. He turned to her and smiled.

"What is your name?" she blurted out.

Again, he laughed, and she felt delightfully giddy at the sound -- even if it meant he found her childish or ignorant in her questioning.

"You came all this way and you haven't heard the name they used for me?" he asked. "Surely, Batty would have told you..."

Eloisa shook her head.

He made a face: somewhere between a grimace and something smug. "They called me the Dragon of the Pages. The One who drinks ink. Once, I had the displeasure of being called The Flaming Red-Winged Serpent," he said.

"But what is your name?" she asked.

"They also called this place the Library Lair," he said, gesturing around.

"But what is your name?" she asked.

He made a face, then finally relented, "My name is Manon."

"Oh... you were named after the Dragon that guarded the golden apples in blessed goddess January's garden?"

"Ah... No."

Her eyes widened: "You are the Dragon that guarded the golden apples in the garden?"

"Yes."

She laughed. "Then I think the blend I made you is only fitting," she said, getting up to flick off the whistling kettle and pour them two steaming mugs of the Apple Tea. "We Teakeepers have an instinct for these things, you know..." feeling emboldened by her skill and instinct, she winked at him exaggeratedly. He chuckled.

"You keep surprising me," Manon said, pouring just a splash of cream into the tea.

"Cheers," she said, holding up her chipped mug.

They sipped in silence for a moment. Finally, Manon said,

"I cannot think of many things that would taste better."

Despite herself, Eloisa was insulted: "What would taste better?" she asked indignantly. "What could possibly taste better? I was up all night trying to concoct the perfect blend. It was painstaking. I had to make it perfect. What could taste better than this?"

"You, little Teakeeper," he said with a lascivious grin.

She blushed again and set down her mug, feeling that warmth spread through her again -- this time, it felt boiling, suffocating, a kettle whistling with nowhere for the steam to go. Her skin buzzed. She felt as though every nerve ending was on fire, on fire, on bright red fire...

"May I ask for a parting gift?" he asked, standing and taking the book she had requested from a cupboard. "It may be a bit greedy. This tea is all I asked for in payment. This would just be... a way of saying goodbye."

She saw his blue eyes held notes of sadness that she was leaving. She took the book from him, feeling deep regret.

"You may ask," she said slowly, "Though I may not be able to grant your wish."

"I hate that you must go, but I cannot keep you here like my books. I will only keep the memory of you like the sweetest fairy tale. May I kiss you?" he asked, his hand finding her chin and tipping her face up to him as if guessing her response, which came to her in a heady rush. She stood on her tiptoes and breathlessly pressed her lips to his, inhaling him -- desperate, needy. He kissed her back slowly, his teeth teasing her lower lip. She wound her fingers through his hair, up to his horns, running the soft pad of her fingertip over the smooth surface. Desire lit her up, a hot overwhelming boil, like cardamom and nutmeg spices. The feeling burned.

She became greedy, her hands roaming across his chest, her eyes shut tight against any doubt or fear or self-consciousness she might have allowed in the past. Her hands found their way up to his shoulders, and then back to his wings, which flexed under her touch. He pulled back, suddenly wary of her.

"That was goodbye," he said, his voice a heady rasp, but he did not push her away.

She looked up at him and decided to be brave.

"Aren't you still hungry?" she asked, licking her lips. There was a sound like a low growl in his chest, rumbling outward.

"Careful, little Teakeeper," he warned, "I may just devour you yet."

"I wish you would," she sighed, looking up at him through her lashes.

Without another word, he scooped her up and hefted her onto the kitchen counter. She squeaked in surprise and delight as he lifted her skirts to her knees and caressed her legs. The feeling was near to boiling over, and his gentle touches were having an effect on her that she had never anticipated. His touch drifted higher on her thighs, and she whimpered, arching her back for him. He kissed the low neckline of her dress before his wings extended behind him. The scaly wings knocked into a set of enormous serving spoons, sending them clattering to the ground. He didn't seem to notice; he was solely intent now on getting her out of the dress.

"You want to get eaten?" he asked, tracing her jaw.

"Mm..." she murmured, not meeting his eye. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him, determined to get the truest answer.

"Say it."

"Manon..."

"Say it, Eloisa."

"Please eat me," she whined, tossing her head back. He yanked off her thin undergarments and his head dipped between her thighs. With a gasp, Eloisa gathered the cloth of her dress in tight fists, feeling the Dragon's hot mouth working in easy, luxurious strokes.

The light in the kitchen sputtered out and they were left in the semi-darkness, her gasps and desperate whimpers giving way to more pronounced moans as she rode each wave.

"You are really good at this," she groaned, tightening her grip on one of his horns. She could sense he was smiling in agreement as she squirmed -- as if he was saying,

Yes... I know. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her into place as she began to writhe in earnest, the sensation almost unbearable. Her pleasure was reaching a new high point -- at any moment she was bound to boil over -- her eyes snapped open.

"I'm -- I'm going to -- " she gave a keen, high gasp as his long, skilled tongue pushed her over the edge. Her thighs shaking, she felt the sensation give way, her skin tingling as he lapped her up. She gave a long, wordless moan of pleasure as she came -- he hummed into her in response, elongating the sensation as she tipped her hips back and forth. When the feeling finally subsided, it left her feeling exhausted, slack-jawed with wonder. The Dragon pulled away, chuckling. He wiped his bottom lip with his thumb, his brilliant phosphorescent eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, her body sagging as he stood. Then she eyed his smirk and asked, "Are you laughing at me, Dragon?"

"Just happy I was right," he murmured, pressing into her mouth again, kissing her slowly.

"Mmmm. Right about what?" she asked, her voice a barely-there whisper. Right about everything. He was right about everything. He is a Dragon genius with a tongue made of fire. I would follow him anywhere.

"You may be shocked to hear it," the Dragon said, "but I think you may taste better than tea."

"Sacrilege!" she laughed, peppering him with kisses.

"You are right," he murmured, "I should not assume that it is true after just one taste. I should taste you again... and again... and again... just to be sure."

"Not quite, Dragon," she said coyly, "It is your turn."

Her hands wandered lower and she found the drawstring of his pants. She pulled it loose and his trousers fell to the floor. He let out a soft moan as her hands wrapped around his impressive length. She let out a half-breathless laugh of disbelief.