STORY EXCERPT

Arty Smith never in his life would have thought he would be in the middle of any kind of real fight.

He was a bit of a shitty warlock. So much so that his own father, who insisted he loved Arty and was proud of him and all that, would rather he stepped back and did the cooking and potion making with the witches.

Great.

Well, unfortunately for his father, the dragons had something else in mind, and when Arty cast a spell, desperate to get the big one away from the main hall where the elders slept, where his father was desperately defending the building against the raging fire with a shielding spell, he didn't mean to bind the stupid creature to him.

Well, he kind of did. Arty wanted it to do as he said, to stop attacking, but he didn't think anything he could throw at the beast would be as terrible as, say, a mating spell. The dragon looked at him, eyes dilating. It clearly felt the hit of the spell when Arty threw it at the creature.

And now Arty stood there, literally nothing standing between him and the enormous red dragon.

It exposed its teeth, tail whipping around behind it.

Oh fuck. It knew. It knew Arty did something, and now he was so massively screwed as he turned and ran for his life.

"Arty!"

Arty thought he heard his father shout something. It was difficult to say when there were so many other war cries, spells being cast, and one of the houses was full blown on fire.

Arty tried to think of a spell to cast back at the creature before it could eat him alive, but his mind blanked. He wanted to run. He wanted to get the hell out of there, but then Arty screamed as his feet left the floor, the heavy whoosh of wings flapped above him as the dragon picked him clean off the ground and began to fly away.

The dragon roared. Arty shrieked, and he suddenly wished he'd taken his father's advice and stayed with the kids. At least then he wouldn't be looking down at the earth as it got farther and farther away from his feet.

* * * *

The dragon didn't drop him. That didn't stop Arty from screaming his head off for the solid thirty or so minutes he was in the air. It took him a while before he realized the claws of the beast were digging into his shoulders. They punched through the skin and everything. Arty barely felt it, and even when he became aware of what was going on, when he started to feel the pain, it was only in the back of his mind that he felt it.

He was too cold in the air. They were so high up, and even as he mumbled warmth spells, they didn't seem to work.

Whatever weak little air pockets he could create around himself were quickly blown away in the high-altitude winds, and the fact that the dragon kept flapping its wings wasn't a good sign either.

Eventually, other dragons came to join it. Their long calls sounded like enormous birds as they swooped in, gliding alongside their much bigger leader.

Arty struggled not to piss himself as he watched them.

On either side they glided next to the red dragon, and one below as well.

Their cries were almost questioning, but then the alpha rumbled back to them.

And it was strange, Arty could hear words beneath those animalistic sings.

"What is that?"

"Do we get to eat him?"

"The Grand Warlock's son, isn't it?"

How was Arty hearing this? No one was supposed to be able to understand the dragons when they were in this form. No one except for other dragons.

The red dragon cawed back at them, and once again, Arty heard words. But the words were in his head. It wasn't something his ears picked up on.

"Leave him to me. I will deal with him."

"Not fair," called another. "You get to eat him on your own?"

Arty shivered. Oh fuck. He was so screwed. He reached up, holding on to the talons that dug into his flesh. He wanted so badly to be put down, but of course he didn't want to be dropped either.

He didn't want to be eaten. He wanted to go home and crawl into his bed, forget all about his hopes of becoming a great warlock one day because he knew it wasn't going to happen.

He'd rather dig into his old Dr. Strange comics, but that was probably never going to happen either.

Oh shit. He'd called his father an asshole when he'd suggested Arty stay with making potions and cooking, where it was safe.

Arty was going to die, and his last words to his father would be that the man was an asshole.

"Look! I think it's crying!" cawed the one beneath him.

Arty looked down, noting the long neck twisting so the head could look up at him at a sideways angle.

Almost as though it were an oversized bird.

Arty glared at it.

"It thinks it's tough now!" sang another beneath the long cawing sound.

The dragons began to dance around in the sky. That was the only way Arty could think of it. They swooped and dove, pulling their wings in before spinning and then opening their wings once more to pull up before dropping down.

Like a roller coaster.

And all the while they sang at him. About what a coward he was. How they had his coven by the balls now.

Arty hated the lot of them, and he wanted to make them suffer. He would make them suffer.

ADULT EXCERPT

Keagan seemed much more in need than Arty was as he dragged Arty back to his house. Arty could see sweat glistening from his perfect forehead.

Even when it was wrinkled in a scowl, the man somehow still managed to look absolutely stunning.

Bastard.

It was kind of impressive that he needed Arty so much, considering he'd admitted to having sex with multiple people already.

Who were they? Someone or someones who were important to him? Did it matter? Arty hoped not. He didn't want them coming around and trying to take from Keagan again.

Especially not when Arty was the one who needed the other man as badly as he did.

He couldn't help but touch the other man as they walked.

It was dark out, and Arty was so focused on Keagan's tight, warm skin that he forgot to make sure no one watched them walk by.

Whatever. As soon as Arty figured out how to get this spell off him, he was never going to worry about this ever again. He was going to get out of here and he wouldn't see these people anymore, so what did it matter if a bunch of dragon lovers and dragons happened to see him all over Keagan?

The constellation tattoos were wonderful. Arty had to give them that. They were beautiful, even.

Draco was the obvious one. Arty rolled his eyes. Did they all tattoo themselves with Draco? That was a little…predictable.

Keagan punched open his front door. Arty barely noticed. Something like that, smashing the wood of his door, should have been enough to make him think twice about going back into the guy's house with him, but no. Arty was already drunk on the feel of his skin. He needed more. He needed that heat, and Arty was desperate to feel Keagan's tongue in his mouth again.

That had been amazing.

"Get in there."

Keagan shoved Arty toward his room. Arty stumbled back. He only wore his pants after already being stripped earlier. His wrists still hurt, but Arty was quick to shove down his jeans.

Keagan watched him. He didn't look away the instant Arty's cock was revealed.

He did, however, press his lips together.

Was he disgusted that he wanted this so much? Arty had always had his own preference, but it hadn't been entirely true that he was straight.

He didn't think so, anyway. He'd always been curious, and now that he'd cast a spell on himself, well, it was a great excuse for him to experiment.

Might as well see if this was something he really liked now that he'd cast a spell on himself to make him want it.

A silver lining to everything, and all that.

Keagan kicked the door shut behind him. He marched towards Arty, a hunger in his eyes that made Arty's prick throb.

And then they were toe to toe, and Arty had to look up at the guy.

There was something so stupidly arousing about being this close to someone so much more powerful than he was. The women Arty had previously been with, even the ones he'd dated, had always been a little shorter than he was. They'd never been so imposing, so Arty never had to wonder what it would feel like to have someone else leaning over him like this.

Okay, maybe Keagan wasn't that tall, but the point remained. The feeling was different.

Keagan touched his neck, sliding those thick, rough fingers around to the back of Arty's neck, holding on.

Arty's heart jumped.

"You fear me."

Arty frowned, immediately puffing himself out. "I do not!"

Keagan looked at him as if he really didn't believe that.

Which made Arty angry. "I don't! I'm not afraid of anything! Especially not you!"

He was going to the grave with those words on his lips if he had to. He was never going to let this dragon think Arty was scared of him. Not ever.

Keagan still didn't entirely look as though he believed Arty.

"Do you want me to fear you?"

Keagan made a rumbling noise low in his chest. "A part of me desperately wants to say yes. I want you to fear me. I want you to hate me."

"Great."

"But," Keagan said, "those are hardly the thoughts one takes a lover to bed with. Even a treacherous male such as yourself."

Arty glared at the man. He didn't get the chance to say anything when Keagan suddenly pulled Arty forward and up, kissing him on the mouth.

Arty's eyes flew wide, but then the heat of Keagan's lips pulled him into that sweet state of surrender.

His mouth was so rough, hints of a beard that wanted to come in, if only Keagan would let it grow out instead of shaving.

And he tasted like sweet wine.

God, why did everything about him have to be so amazing?

As pissed off as Arty still was about this whole thing, and for being treated so badly by this jerk, he had to admit that there was no point in getting hung up on it.

The spell was what made them want each other.

They weren't lovers, not even friends. If Keagan wanted to hate-fuck him, then Arty decided he wouldn't care so long as he got an orgasm out of it.

His testicles had never felt so heavy.

Then, oh yeah, that was what Arty wanted. He moaned, his knees doing that jelly thing again when Keagan slid his tongue into Arty's mouth, tasting him.

And it was great because Arty had the chance to taste him in return.

God, so good. Arty moaned, grabbing onto Keagan's shoulders and hanging on for dear life as the man pushed him back to the bed.

Arty fell onto his ass on the bed when the edge of the mattress hit the back of his knees.

He cringed hard when he felt the shock all the way up into his injured shoulders.

Keagan gently touched the wounded flesh. "I will clean that after I've finished fucking you."

Arty nodded, exhaling out the last of the pain he felt in his shoulders. "That would be great, thanks."

Even his voice sounded like a mouse's squeak.

Keagan ignored him, putting his fingers to Arty's chest and pushing him to lie back onto the mattress.

This was what Arty was talking about. Even though it hurt his shoulders to do it, he began worming his way to the center of the bed, watching the other man closely as Keagan began to crawl on top of him.

"Why are you naked?"

Keagan stopped, blinking. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Well, yeah, but—" He was cut off when Keagan kissed him again. Hard.

Arty groaned. It was claiming sort of kiss. He felt the hint of teeth against his lips, and he hissed when Keagan bit him before pulling back.

"You talk too much for a man as horny as you are."

Arty sucked back a deep breath when Keagan grabbed him by the base of his prick without warning, but then Arty sighed as Keagan began to stroke him.

His toes curled. Arty pressed the back of his head into the sheets beneath him.

Oh God, that felt…really good. "Al-all right. Point taken."

"It had better be," Keagan growled.

So touchy, but Arty was hardly in a position to care as he began thrusting his cock into that perfect fist.