Page 46 of Dragon's Captive

The evening starts ordinarily enough—dinner delivered to our chambers as usual, discussions of territorial governance that now include my perspective without either of us commenting on how remarkable this development would have seemed mere months ago. But beneath mundane routine simmers awareness neither of us can ignore—time racing toward confrontation that could shatter everything we've built from captivity's ashes.

I watch him studying reports, his gaze narrowed in concentration, obsidian scales capturing firelight with hypnotic iridescence. Once, those inhuman features terrified me, represented everything I despised about the new world order that had demolished human civilization. Now I find myself captivated by their alien beauty, by how the obsidian plates shift with his moods, by the way his pupils expand and contract with changing focus.

When he glances up, catching me observing him, I don't look away as I once would have.

"Clara?" he queries, head tilted slightly in that draconic expression of curiosity I've come to recognize.

Something breaks open inside me—fear and desire and preemptive grief tangling into impulse I don't fight. I move toward him with deliberate steps, intentional in ways I've never been before. My hands reach for him without hesitation, fingers tracing the scales along his jaw that once symbolized monster but now represent something entirely different.

His surprise registers in momentary stillness, in the slight widening of his eyes as I continue exploring. My fingers followthe patterns spreading across his shoulders, tracing their whorls to where they disappear beneath clothing.

"Show me more," I whisper, the request surprising us both. "Don't hide what you truly are."

For one suspended moment, he remains perfectly still, studying my face for any hint of reluctance or fear. Finding none, the patterns across his skin begin to shift, darkness spreading as more scales emerge across previously smooth areas. Wings—normally kept tightly folded against his back except during flight—partially extend, their leathery surfaces casting dramatic shadows in the firelight.

"Are you certain?" he asks, voice dropped to register that vibrates through my bones. "There is no returning from this, Clara."

"I'm certain," I reply, hands sliding beneath his tunic, feeling the texture transition from smooth skin to scaled ridges. "I've spent too long fighting what exists between us. With the trial approaching... I don't want regrets."

The words unleash something in him—restraint slipping enough that smoke curls from his nostrils as he exhales. With measured movements, he removes his clothing, revealing more of his true form than I've ever seen outside claiming or flight. Scales cover his chest in complex patterns, spreading down his arms and legs, capturing light with oil-slick iridescence despite their obsidian base. His features elongate slightly, becoming more draconic as he permits transformation he usually contains during intimate moments.

I should be frightened. Should recoil from this visible reminder of his inhuman nature. Instead, I find myself drawing closer, hands exploring with genuine fascination what once terrified me.

"Beautiful," I murmur, tracing ridges along his forearm that darken beneath my touch.

Something flashes in his golden eyes—hunger, wonder, possession—before he draws me against him with careful strength. His mouth claims mine with heat that nearly burns, his hands cradling my face as if I might shatter beneath his touch.

"You have unmade me," he growls against my lips, the words carrying weight beyond their simplicity. "Transformed monster to mate through sheer force of will."

I laugh softly, the sound captured by his kiss. "I think you managed that yourself."

My clothing falls away beneath his clawed hands, the deliberate care with which he avoids scratching my skin contradicting the obvious hunger in his movements. When we're both unclothed, his scaled body radiating heat against my human flesh, he lifts me with that effortless strength that once frightened but now thrills.

"I want to see all of you," I say as he lays me on our bed. "No restraint. No concession to human comfort. Show me what you truly are."

His eyes blaze brighter at my words, pupils contracting to thin vertical slits. "Be careful what you wish for, little librarian," he warns, voice barely recognizable through draconic vocal structures he normally suppresses. "Some transformations cannot be unseen."

"I've been seeing you all along," I counter, reaching for him without hesitation. "I just couldn't admit it before."

Something shatters in his expression—the final barrier of restraint giving way as scales spread further across his skin, as his form shifts toward draconic truth without completely abandoning humanoid shape. His dual cocks emerge from their scaled sheath, fully ridged and radiating heat that would damage unmodified human flesh. But my body has adapted to his claiming, transformed through repeated exposure to accommodate what should be impossible.

As he positions himself above me, wings partially extended in dominance display that sends unexpected heat pooling between my thighs, I reach up to trace the scales along his jawline.

"Mine," I whisper, claiming him as he has claimed me. "As I am yours."

The word triggers something primal in him, a growl emerging from deep in his chest as he enters me with single powerful thrust that leaves me breathless. The dual lengths fill me completely, the ridged surfaces creating exquisite friction against inner walls now adapted to his inhuman anatomy. The stretch borders on pain, but that edge only intensifies pleasure rather than diminishing it.

"Perfect," he praises, voice rough with restraint despite his transformed appearance. "Taking me so beautifully, so completely."

I arch beneath him, meeting each thrust with eager response bearing no resemblance to the reluctant submission of our early claimings. My hands explore his transformed body without hesitation—the scales along his spine that darken and shift in response to my touch, the partially extended wings that flex with each powerful movement of his hips, the increasingly inhuman features that somehow only enhance rather than diminish my desire.

His pace quickens, scaled hands gripping my hips with careful strength as he drives deeper, the heat of his dual cocks warming me from within in ways that feel familiar, necessary. Small flames escape his mouth as his control slips further, evidence of draconic passion pushed beyond normal constraints.

"Clara," he groans, my name emerging barely recognizable. "Mine. Always mine."

"Yes," I agree without hesitation, the declaration feeling like truth rather than surrender. "Yours. As you are mine."

When his knots begin to swell, stretching me past comfort into that space where pain and pleasure become indistinguishable, I embrace the sensation with enthusiasm that would have horrified my former self. My inner muscles clench deliberately around the swelling bases, milking the response I now actively seek rather than merely enduring biological imperative.

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