The Training Session

Written by Sarkiran, Copyright Sarkiran 30JAN2002

OFFICIAL WARNING : This story contains homosexual acts between two non-human males. Read at your own risk! I am not liable for messing anyone’s view of the world up. Story was written for a mature audience, and is not appropriate for minors and/or those under the age of 18.

He moved slowly across the floor, his eyes closed. With each step, he struck and blocked, as if fighting an invisible opponent, but in easy, decisive movements. Feinting, sidestepping, trapping . . . he rolled through his techniques, his opponent as fast or as slow as he needed him to be. His muscles were not tense, yet even the gentle, nearly forceless motions stretched his muscles and made them work. Sweat dripped from his body, down his scaly forearms, over his claws, and onto the floor. The rattan matting that lined the large dojo floor quickly absorbed the liquid.

Sarkiran flowed from strike to strike, guiding his body through the form. He wasn’t worried about the speed of his moves. His concern was the precision of each strike, and the economy of motion. He’d practiced this way for years as a youth with the Burning Bloods sept, but had never achieved the level of intensity he had sought. He wanted to win, to be the best – yet, his mind often held him back. He thought before he acted. Some called this a weakness, others a strength. Sarkiran, as always, was unsure. He simply moved.

He spun easily on one leg, drawing his left knee up towards his body. He stretched out his wings, the thin, red-orange membranes flexing out to their full wingspan of 8 feet. He brought his arms up over his head, stretching them roofward, his claws extended, and his stance completely upright. He brought his arms to his sides and stepped down into a deep stance, his claws clenched into fists at his sides. He leaned forward and worked his wings, letting them balance out the weight of his body as he did so. He rose into a defensive stance and brought his wings back in, his arms moved in front of him, ready to defend and to strike. He continued his routine.

He struck out at his shadow with a straight kick to its midsection. He followed it up with a second kick, still keeping the slow pace. He imagined his opponent’s defenses absorbing the first kick, then being struck by the second. He moved in with a rising claw strike, the move catching the opponent on the tip of its jaw. Sarkiran did not believe in killing outright, otherwise he would have put his claws through the shadow’s sternum.

Sarkiran paused; the sweat from his mane had matted it against his neck and arms. He opened his eyes. His gi top was soaked, the black undershirt showing up against its white, translucent material. Tendrils of fire-colored mane obscured his view; in the light, the wetter strands of hair looked almost red. He scrubbed the hair back behind his head and between his two black horns. He wondered where his hair tie had gone. He had forgotten his bandana at home.

“Looking for this?” A voice rang out in the dark, empty dojo, startling Sarkiran. He glanced behind him in the direction of the voice. Against the back wall of the dojo he saw a form in the shadows, leaning up against a wooden support beam. Night had long fallen, but Sarkiran could still make out the form well enough to know whom it was, not to mention knowing the voice. Only then did he notice that his own smell had overcome the smell of the dojo, and prevented him from detecting this character.

“About time you got here, Zeckes. What happened to attending class with everyone else?” Sarkiran turned toward the figure, straightening out his uniform in the process. “Let’s see, class finished about an hour ago…”

A light laugh came from the figure. He picked up a backpack from the floor, swung it over his right shoulder, and stepped into the light. A yellow mane prominently spilled from the figure’s head, the lion’s sharp features contrasting its soft luster. Two yellow eyes gleamed out from under the mane over a brownish-red nose. A tuft of yellow fur popped out of the uniform where it formed a V below his neck. Zeckes’ white uniform was dry and crisp, and made a gentle rasping sound as he crossed the floor towards Sarkiran. Even with that sound, he was quiet as a cat. He reached toward Sarkiran - a clawed hand offered a thin leather band to him.

Sarkiran laughed. “I know your people are quiet, but so are mine. I didn’t hear a damn thing!” Sarkiran took the offered item, and began putting his hair up. He combed through it with his clawed fingers, moved his mane into a ponytail behind his horns and ear tufts. “How long have you been standing there?”

Zeckes chuckled and crossed his arms; his gi’s sleeves were pulled taunt by the action, revealing two padded claws. “Well, it’s easy to be quiet. And you may naturally hear just as well as me, but you were . . . preoccupied. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Zeckes smiled, his fangs becoming visible. “I like watching the way you move.”

Unconsciously, Sarkiran noticed Zeckes was standing somewhat close to him, on the verge of being too close. Sarkiran smelled something odd on Zeckes. It wasn’t a new smell, just something he couldn’t place. He looking at Zeckes face and smiled. He and Zeckes had formed a quick friendship since meeting at the academy. Both had similar upbringings – yet Zeckes had the harder of the two lives.

Sarkiran scratched his muzzle. He mulled over Zeckes for a moment before realizing that Zeckes was staring at him. Zeckes was grinning widely now.

Sarkiran chuckled. “Looks like someone has had a good day! So, you ready for some sparring?” Zeckes nodded energetically. He tossed his pack to the ground and sat down next to it. Digging through it, he found his black cloth hand wraps and began putting them on. Sarkiran turned away and walked to his own pack against the wall at the front of the dojo. In a few moments, both had donned their gear.

Zeckes began stretching out as Sarkiran did the same. He was already warmed up, but any time he fought Zeckes he wanted to be more than ready. He went through his shadow boxing routine, but quickened the pace to full speed. He loved trying to intimidate his lion friend. Of all the fighters he’d ever faced, Zeckes had been one of the most natural he’d seen, even over himself. While Zeckes was focused on his own routine, Sarkiran pondered Zeckes’ jovial nature this evening. Zeckes wasn’t a happy-go-lucky person. He’d worked hard to get into the academy; while being a natural warrior, he was not a natural study. Sarkiran found himself often tutoring his lion friend. It was the least he could do for someone with such a close history to himself.

Zeckes had come to one of the dragon septs at 8 years of age. He had run away from his own lands for some reason that Sarkiran did not know of. Strangely enough, Sarkiran’s own people, the dragon septs, had taken him in. Zeckes ended up living with the Tempest Sky sept, while Sarkiran was born and raised in the Burning Bloods sept. Even though they were of different septs, the commonality of being raised among dragons was more than anyone else he had met at the academy. Few dragons ever came to the academy; it was a pleasant surprise to find someone who knew of his ways.

At first, Sarkiran treated Zeckes as a new recruit – green as all hell. Zeckes looked up to Sarkiran. But, in getting to know Zeckes, Sarkiran learned that Zeckes had been through a lot in his life. Zeckes was prone to dark moods, but Sarkiran fought those by trying to be involved in his life – he got him out into the world that the academy had to offer. Zeckes had a protective shell 5 miles thick, but slowly Sarkiran had chipped at it. They had grown close in the 2 years they’d been in the academy together – but with Sarkiran graduating and moving to the Strategic Intelligence Agency, the time they spent together had begun to dwindle. These after-hours training sessions were the one thing that had not suffered.

Sarkiran fought his shadows as he pondered Zeckes. He occasionally cast a stray glance to where Zeckes was warming up. His body moved like fluid, even while warming up. Sarkiran wanted to fight like that – but even dragons, while being physically imposing and fast, were not as agile at the lions of Zemari. They were a natural warrior race, pure cunning and speed. Few dragons could match the vim and vigor of a skilled Zemari. Even still, Sarkiran was a close match to Zeckes – proof positive of Sarkiran’s belief that fighting was more than just natural skill.

“So, are you going to fight shadows all night or take on a real opponent?” Zeckes’ taunt brought Sarkiran out of his thoughts. He turned and faced his friend, now situated down at the back end of the dojo. Zeckes’ uniform was no longer crisp and clean. Sweat had faded through it now, darkening the areas around his armpits and chest. His yellow fur was ruffled, and stuck out in various places through his gi. Zeckes checked his hand wrappings as walked toward Sarkiran. Sarkiran did likewise, checking the velcro fastens and tightening up his hand pads. They moved within the fighting circle on the floor in the middle of the dojo, each standing at opposing points.

“Oh, you’re going to pay for that remark tonight, man. I’ve had a little more time in here than you lately.” Sarkiran jested back; his snout split into a wide, toothy dragon grin.

“Well, if all you have is that slow-ass fighting you were doing when I came in, I think you’re in for a surprise!” Zeckes was laying it on thick, his cockiness really coming out. He assumed his form’s ready stance – his right foot forward of his left, each foot with nearly equal weight placed upon them, with the toes pads of his footpaws the only contact point to the ground, his knees bent a little, and his claws raised in front of his body. His tail swished behind him, twitching a bit, the tuft on the end dancing in anticipation.

Sarkiran couldn’t help it. He let out a loud laugh. His own eyes gleamed now, their dark blue depths shining for a moment like glowing ice; he loved a good challenge. He assumed his own stance – left foot forward, he dropped his right foot back and dropped most of his weight on it. He brought his left claw up in front of his face and left it open-handed; he brought his right claw low and out in front of his body, ready to guard any low shots Zeckes might take. He pulled his wings in and kept his own tail behind him. No use getting it stepped on.

“Ok, lion, if you think you can take me, bring it on! I’ll even give you the opportunity to start us off.”

“How noble, you damned dragon. Now you’re going to lose your ass!” In an instant, Zeckes attacked. He closed the 5 feet between them in one bound, and was striking before Sarkiran could even blink. It was a kick, coming in low to Sarkiran’s right side. He didn’t have time to sidestep – instead, he struck smoothly with his right claw, his forearm impacting the incoming strike and driving it down and away from Sarkiran’s body. In the same move, he feinted a strike to Zeckes’ head and moved his body forward to feign the connecting strike. Zeckes’ reacted quickly to the strike – he tilted his head sideways away from the blow. Sarkiran caught Zeckes’ eyes for a moment. Like fluid, Zeckes next strike went to Sarkiran’s midsection. Sarkiran pulled his right knee up in time with the strike, the hard bone jaunting Zeckes’ strike, turning the force back against his left claw. Sarkiran stepped down and into Zeckes guard, and threw a light jab at Zeckes’ jaw. The blow connected, sending Zeckes back.

Sarkiran breathed. He hadn’t remembered breathing in the span of the attack. Zeckes kept his balance and stepped into a defensive stance. He was still – no movement. He opened and closed his left claw. A low growl escaped Zeckes throat, and then became a laugh. Zeckes relaxed his stance; he opened and closed his claw. “Nice move, dragon. Heh, wow that smarts.”

Sarkiran had assumed his left forward stance. This battle was still on, but he gave Zeckes a chance to collect himself. Zeckes stroked his jaw slowly and shook his head. “You lighten that jab or is that all you’ve got?”

It was Sarkiran’s turn to growl. He snarled quietly. “I’m not going to knock you unconscious or anything. I know you like full contact, but that doesn’t mean kill each other.”

Zeckes scoffed. “How do you know if you’ll ever really do any damage if you don’t try?” A wicked scowl crossed the lion’s face. He tightened up his stance. To Sarkiran, his body language was just screaming ‘Come get me if you can.’ Sarkiran took him up on the offer.

Sarkiran’s opening strikes were both slower than Zeckes and, in this case, expected. He led in by pivoting all the weight to his left leg and, with a slight hop, kicking in with his right. Zeckes sidestepped the kick, but Sarkiran had already begun his next attack. He came down fast and hard across the centerline of his body with a knife spear strike to Zeckes’ chest. Zeckes used the force from his sidestep to throw a quick block with his right claw – Sarkiran’s and Zeckes’ blow met each other halfway. Sarkiran grimaced – he and Zeckes were chest to chest before the world around him seemed to tumble. Sarkiran thought he saw a slight grin on Zeckes’ face in that instant as Sarkiran fell to the floor. He fell hard on his wings and tail. Zeckes’ sweep and Sarkiran’s subsequent fall took Sarkiran’s breath from him.

Sarkiran moved on instinct, but Zeckes was already upon him, his body hunched over him in a lunge. Sarkiran struck from the ground, knocking Zeckes’ arm away as it tried to grab his gi. Sarkiran struck again, this time with a kick of his own. He contacted Zeckes’ thigh. Sarkiran then pushed himself up, using the momentum from his kick to throw Zeckes off-balance a little more. As he did, he caught the same odd smell from Zeckes he had picked up before. He simply cataloged the information.

Instead of staying on the offensive, Zeckes broke off his attack and tumbled away from Sarkiran in a roll. He flipped to his feet with ease as Sarkiran turned, got to his knees and then his feet. Sarkiran rubbed his wings and tail gingerly. Nothing felt broken or strained. For a moment, he cursed his wings. They might allow him limited flight, but they really slowed him down in hand-to-hand combat.

Sarkiran cursed himself. He was an ok in-fighter – it just happened that Zeckes was better. He expected Zeckes to read his moves – he didn’t expect him to sweep. In Sarkiran’s memory, Zeckes had never swept before. Sarkiran again cataloged the information, and reminded himself that opponents, especially opponents you know, can and will use knowledge and expectation to their advantage.

Neither opponent spoke. Sarkiran simply resumed his stance; Zeckes took his and reversed to left foot forward. He brought his arms up with claws in knife-edges. Zeckes grinned again. With a nod, they continued.

They advanced on each other at the same time. Zeckes kicked, Sarkiran sidestepped into Zeckes’ guard low, feinted a sweep by sliding behind Zeckes’ lead leg, and struck with a punch to his midsection. Zeckes grunted with the impact, but was already moving. He came down with both fists on Sarkiran’s shoulders, the force driving Sarkiran lower. Sarkiran tried to drop his stance with the impact to flow with the blows – he grunted with the hits. He quickly brought his arms up and grabbed Zeckes’ arms. He held them tight to his shoulders, locking them there. With an umph, he fell back, and swung his legs up underneath Zeckes’ midsection.

Zeckes was in the air a quarter second before he crashed face first into the floor behind Sarkiran. Sarkiran anticipated his own fall, and regained his footing quickly, expecting Zeckes to do the same. Instead, Zeckes lay there, moving slightly. Sarkiran stood still in his stance. A low growl erupted from the pile of lion on the floor. The growl intensified and became a roar. Zeckes got to his feet slowly. As he turned to face Sarkiran, a bit of blood stained the corner of his mouth. His eyes burned a hot yellow. Sarkiran held his ground and met Zeckes’ gaze, unfazed.

Zeckes spit. A small amount of blood and spit hit the floor, leaving a bright crimson stain. Sarkiran could tell Zeckes was no longer taking him lightly. His body language was no longer screaming ‘I’m here, come get me.’ – instead, it was now ‘Someone’s about to get pounced.’

Sarkiran caught the odd smell again. Then, Zeckes’ body language relaxed completely. He wiped the blood and spittle from the corner of his mouth and grinned. His fangs and teeth were discolored red, there normally ivory white appearance now a much more gruesome site.

Sarkiran was baffled for a moment. What was Zeckes’ deal? He wasn’t fighting with his normal, move in and kill strategy. He was being a bit more evasive, and in general was fighting almost passively.

“Hey, sorry about that, man. You want to take a minute to go check that out?” Sarkiran was concerned. He had not meant to draw blood.

Zeckes continued grinning. His eyes seemed to be shooting through Sarkiran’s body. He shook his head in disagreement. “No, this is finally getting interesting. I’m cool to continue… if you are.”

Sarkiran laughed, yet internally didn’t feel his friend’s enthusiasm for this fight. He nodded, and thought that he’d ask for a break after the next round.

Sarkiran changed his tactics. He took his position on the circle and assumed a cat stance. He bounced lightly up and down, throwing his weight from foot to foot. He bobbed his arms up and down in front of him, and he felt his mane and wings bouncing with his body. He watched Zeckes closely as he took his position and stance.

The dragon struck swiftly, coming in with punches as fast as he could manage. He varied their angle and height as they landed; Zeckes’ cat-like reflexes allowed him to intercept the punches. Zeckes counter-attacked in time with Sarkiran’s strikes, aiming punches at Sarkiran’s ribs – Sarkiran simply dropped his elbows to block those strikes and continued the assault. He took a shot to the gut as he landed a shot on Zeckes’ shoulder. He tensed his abs and retreated a half step. Zeckes made up the space between the two, and went all-out in the offensive. It took all of Sarkiran’s concentration to simply keep himself from getting hammered. He kept his defenses going and stepped back far with his left leg, narrowing Zeckes’s field of attack. In the time he stepped back, Sarkiran shot out some counter-punches, and then threw his weight into a spin. He extended his wings as he spun. They struck Zeckes on his side, nearly bowling him over. Zeckes grabbed frantically at Sarkiran’s wings as he began to fall. Sarkiran and Zeckes fell into a pile of dragon and lion legs and arms onto the floor.

Sarkiran simply remained still. He had fallen almost face first down on the rattan matting on the dojo floor. He could smell the odor of sweat and feet from the floor. Zeckes was on top of him, with his wings tangled up in his arms. He could feel him moving, but Sarkiran could only struggle a bit. He twisted his neck around to try and look at Zeckes. Sarkiran smelled that damn odd smell again, this time stronger than ever. He knew it was coming from Zeckes, but had no clue what it meant. As he cast his eyes back to look at Zeckes, he felt a cloth-wrapped claw grab his muzzle. The next thing he knew Zeckes was kissing Sarkiran.

Sarkiran gasped. His eyes went wide as Zeckes worked his mouth with Sarkiran’s maw. Sarkiran felt the lion’s nose press against his snout; it was warm and a bit moist with sweat. Zeckes eyes met Sarkiran’s as they kissed, their yellow depths glowing warmly.

Sarkiran froze. He had no clue what to do. Part of him was disgusted… yet another part felt hot. He had never been kissed before. Not even by a female of his species. His mind told him this was wrong, but his emotions were tumbling and surging . . . but why? He brought his claw up to his muzzle and grabbed Zeckes claw. He gently pulled away from Zeckes, their eyes still locked. It was all Sarkiran could do.

“I…” Sarkiran stammered.

Zeckes’ eyes seemed to be piercing Sarkiran. Zeckes’ expression was one of satisfaction. He smiled weakly. “I got you.” Zeckes’ voice was deep in the unusual silence. “I’ve wanted to do that since I came into the room.”

Sarkiran’s mind raced. He had never in his life even touched another being sexually. Never hugged, never kissed. It wasn’t his way. He was simply Sarkiran of the Burning Bloods sept. He didn’t involve himself with others. It was too easy to hurt and get hurt. He’d seen it happen all his life. Instead, he stood alone. That was his way. But his emotions called out to him, telling him he needed more. He had quelled those long ago; why now then did he feel hot inside?

Zeckes leaned closer to Sarkiran, and nuzzled Sarkiran’s snout with his nose. Zeckes’ mane rubbed against Sarkiran’s face. He spoke, his voice, quiet voice. “It’s ok, Sark. I know about you. I think I’ve known about you since the day we met. I’m just surprised you don’t know about yourself.”

Sarkiran was silent. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Zeckes had known what?

Zeckes nuzzled closer. Sarkiran could feel the lion’s arms moving. They came to rest in an embrace around Sarkiran’s neck. Zeckes simply lay there. Sarkiran felt warm. He’d never been this physically close to someone before. It felt warm. And it felt good – better than anything he’d felt his entire life.

Sarkiran tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His mind and emotions were just lost. He didn’t know what to do. He’d never felt like this before. All he knew was that in that instant, it felt right. More right than anything he’d felt before. He put his claw under’s Zeckes head, and brought them face to face.

“Zeckes. . . I . . . I’ve . . . never. . .”

“I know, Sark… neither have I. It just feels . . . right, doesn’t it?”

“I . . . yeah. It does.”

Sarkiran locked his eyes on to Zeckes’ face. Zeckes could see the confusion and worry evaporating from Sarkiran’s eyes. Zeckes smiled at Sarkiran – Sarkiran smiled back. They closed their eyes and kissed. Sarkiran brought his own arms up and put them around Zeckes’ neck. They held each other there, there bodies pressing closer together on the floor. Sarkiran let to moment last.

A purring sound seemed to be coming from Zeckes. Sarkiran squeezed his eyes open to see Zeckes bringing a claw up to Sarkiran’s muzzle. He traced it over his face. It felt like electricity across his scaly face. Sarkiran mrred and closed his eyes. He worked Zeckes’ mouth, and slipped the tip of his split tongue into Zeckes’ maw. He could taste the lion’s blood in his mouth. For a moment, he again regretted the injury. That regret faded as Zeckes pushed his own tongue into Sarkiran’s mouth. The two of them lay there, thrusting their tongues together, enjoying the rush of sensations. Sarkiran felt a throbbing sensation from his groin area. He knew what it was, but was surprised by it. He caressed Zeckes face with his own claw, opened his eyes, and pulled away. Zeckes’ opened his eyes. Sarkiran took one of his claws and traced it down to Zeckes’ chest, gently pulling at the tuft of yellow fur that stuck out from his gi. They embraced again, Zeckes gently kissing Sarkiran’s neck, his tongue darting over the orange-colored scales, the raspy lion tongue felt like warm sparks. Zeckes ran his claws down Sarkiran’s neck and shoulders to his back. He massaged Sarkiran’s back gently, feeling for the place where Sarkiran’s wings met his torso. He found the spot and working it gently, continuing to kiss Sarkiran’s neck at the same time. Sarkiran signed in enjoyment of the attention.

Sarkiran pulled at Zeckes’ gi. He slipped one claw inside and untied the flap. He eased back the flap and exposed Zeckes chest, a well-musled set of fur-covered pectorals. Zeckes’ chest fur was a darker yellow-orange in the center, and the thinner fur was a lighter yellow. A line of thicker fur ran down his chest to his groin area, thickening noticeable before entering his gi pants. Sarkiran ran his claws over Zeckes chest and slid one hand up into the gi and onto Zeckes’ left shoulder. Zeckes purred louder as Sarkiran ran his scaly claws over his shoulder and back, the scales rubbing against his yellow fur; even for Sarkiran, the sensation was intoxicating.

Sarkiran and Zeckes rubbed each other down. Sarkiran could feel the throbbing in his gi pants getting harder. He and Zeckes had slowly sat up, and were now nearly sitting in each other’s laps. Sarkiran sighed as Zeckes ran his claws down his back behind the sensitive area under his wings. He never realized just how sensitive that area was before. He did the same thing to Zeckes – he began by slipping off Zeckes’ gi top and pushing it back over Zeckes’ torso. Zeckes decided that it was time they dispensed with the gi tops. They both broke their embrace, and, grinning mischievously, pulled off their tops. Zeckes was the first to get his off, and as Sarkiran was removing his black undershirt, Zeckes grabbed the shirt and tried to help. They kissed and embraced as they got the shirt over Sarkiran’s head. Before Sarkiran could remove the shirt from his arms, Zeckes grabbed it and twisted it around Sarkiran’s wrists. He sat forward and held the shirt over Sarkiran’s head. He eased Sarkiran down to the matting, his back coming to rest on his wings. They never broke their embrace, and Sarkiran continued to work Zeckes’ mouth with his tongue. Zeckes held Sarkiran there, hovering above his chest, one hand holding Sarkiran’s shirt-tied wrists against the floor, the other tracing a line down Sarkiran’s chest, slowly following the golden-yellow scale plates that marked his pectorals. Zeckes extended the tip of one of his lion claws from its sheath, and drew it further down Sarkiran’s chest. The sensation brought Sarkiran to near-spasm – the pleasure was incredible. Zeckes pushed himself onto Sarkiran’s chest and continued kissing him furiously, his tongue reaching as far back as it could into Sarkiran’s maw. Zeckes let go of Sarkiran’s wrists and shirt, and put the other hand to good use. He was straddling Sarkiran now, his hips near Sarkiran’s hips. He combed his hand through Sarkiran’s mane, while Sarkiran reached up to Zeckes’ chest and ran his fingers through the tendrils of mane above Zeckes’ eyes, running his claws through his mane back to his ears. He pressed their kiss harder, slipping more of his tongue into’s Zeckes’ maw.

Sarkiran was in ecstasy. Every touch was electric, as if they were both charged and giving off sparks. He let Zeckes work him over as he laid there, the lion lying gently on top of him. Sarkiran could feel the bulge in his pants growing nearly painful as the tip of his member began to emerge. He felt Zeckes’ own bulge through his gi pants, the lion’s balls pressed near Sarkiran’s own. Zeckes traced his free claw down slowly to Sarkiran’s gi pants, ever so close to that sensitive region. Sarkiran’s golden-yellow belly scales were much finer than his normal scales, and almost smooth. Zeckes crossed these scales carefully, insuring his claw didn’t hurt the flesh. Sarkiran looked down his body to see Zeckes’ claw hovering above the gi pant’s tie strap, a simple cloth band. Rather than untie it, Zeckes groped Sarkiran’s package through the cloth, feeling his balls and sheath through the material. Zeckes kissed Sarkiran one more time before slipping out of his mouth. He began kissing Sarkiran’s chin, then his neck, and then his chest. He took a few moments with each kiss, lavishing Sarkiran’s body with attention. Sarkiran sighed with pleasure, knowing where Zeckes was heading, and trying to patiently wait for what was to come.

Zeckes moved his hips over Sarkiran’s legs as he made his way down towards Sarkiran’s crotch. Finally, he reached Sarkiran’s gi pants. With a grin, he used his teeth to untie the knot. Sarkiran was enthralled by the display as Zeckes mouth was just inches from his dragonhood. He could feel the lion’s breath on his stomach. Sarkiran felt that he might pass out with the anticipation. Zeckes pulled the knot clear, and, using his claws, pulled Sarkiran’s gi pants and underwear down to his knees.

Sarkiran’s balls were clearly visible. The pink tip of Sarkiran’s member was fully outside of his genital sheath, but the shaft had yet to emerge. The head alone was 4 inches long, and somewhat bulbous. The sheath and ball sack were covered in extremely fine golden scales, the lightest scale colorations evident on his body. Zeckes stared for a moment, somewhat in awe. He’d never laid eyes on a dragon’s parts before, even though he was raised among them. He reached a claw towards Sarkiran’s balls, gently cradling the large orbs. One claw wasn’t enough to hold them, and the fleshy sheath seemed to flow over his claw. Sarkiran growled at the touch - a light, almost sigh of a growl. Zeckes lightly rubbed the tip of Sarkiran’s member, trying to coax it from its hiding place. He leaned his faced closer to it, and licked the tip. The lion’s abrasive tongue moved over the tip, and Sarkiran’s eyes seemed to flash as he let out another sigh, this one deeper than before. Sarkiran’s member slowly began to emerge. Zeckes continued to lick Sarkiran’s groin. Inch by inch, it emerged. It seemed to pulse as Zeckes worked his tongue over it, the pinkness quickly turned to a darker red. Zeckes pulled back for a moment and looked at the monster that had found it’s way out of his friend. It was easily over 20 inches from tip to base, and thick. Zeckes paused – he didn’t think he could take even half of the shaft into his mouth. Well, he was going to have to find out the hard way.

Zeckes lowered himself over Sarkiran’s erection. He slipped his tongue over the head, and tasted a bit of precum. He swallowed the head, and, inch by inch, tried to work the huge beast into his mouth. He felt Sarkiran’s hips buck slightly beneath him as Sarkiran’s instincts took over. The hot hole that was Zeckes’ mouth was a magnet for Sarkiran’s attention. Zeckes stopped again, and pulled Sarkiran’s cock out of his mouth. He looked back at his friend. Sarkiran sat up, panting. Zeckes’ own gi pants had been bulging for some time, and Zeckes thought it was time he had someone work the kinks out of his own system. Sarkiran took the look as a cue.

Zeckes rotated himself over Sarkiran’s body, and positioned his hips over Sarkiran’s head. Sarkiran was staring straight up into the bulging crotch of Zeckes’ gi pants, his tail swishing above Sarkiran’s head and landing occasionally in his mane. Sarkiran looked down to see Zeckes staring at him, grinning. Zeckes then began to work his mouth over Sarkiran’s member again. Sarkiran’s bliss-filled mind almost forgot the task at hand. However, the pressing bulge above his head required attention. As Zeckes worked his mouth over Sarkiran’s cock, Sarkiran hastily untied Zeckes’ gi pants and pushed them out of the way. Above him the lion’s member dangled, a healthy pair of furry balls almost hitting Sarkiran’s snout. They bobbed as Zeckes work Sarkiran over, the intensity of Zeckes’ movements shaking both their bodies. Sarkiran stared at the lion’s erection for a moment. It was unlike his own – the tip was shaped like an arrowhead, and had an almost sharp point to it. The head expanded to almost 3.5 inches in width before meeting the shaft. He estimated the cock to be 16 inches in length, which he knew was no problem for him to take. With a hungry slurp, he wrapped his tongue around the lion’s member and slipped it into his mouth.

Zeckes immediately felt the sensation of wetness and sucking on his member. For a moment, his vision swam as pleasure flooded his sensed, a pleasure unlike any he had felt before. Sarkiran’s tongue was gentle yet hard; a strong, agile muscle wrapped around his lionhood. He lowered his hips onto Sarkiran’s maw, and continued his own assault on Sarkiran’s member.

For what seemed like an hour they focuses their attentions on each other’s cocks, each one licking and sucking, the taste of their precum filling their senses. Their sweaty, nearly naked bodies were pressed closely together, and rocked rhythmically on the dojo flood. From time to time, they would slow their pace, only to pick it up again a few moments later.

Sarkiran could feel his friend’s movements changing, and suddenly Zeckes began to slow his pace. He held himself back, and let Sarkiran’s member slip out of his mouth; Sarkiran did the same. Zeckes looked down at Sarkiran and met his gaze.

“I want you.” Zeckes said it almost greedily. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.” Zeckes features softened for a moment as he stared at his friend. “ Will you let me have you?”

Sarkiran stared back at Zeckes. “Yes.” Sarkiran responded without pause. “I would very much like that.” Sarkiran smiled at his friend. He trusted Zeckes. And he wanted this.

Zeckes grinned and nodded. He rolled over to Sarkiran and kissed him, slipping his tongue into Sarkiran’s mouth again. Their saliva and precom mixed in their mouths; the scent of musk, sweat, and precum kept them both hard. They laid there a moment, chest to chest, their members and balls touching each other. They enjoyed the embrace for more than a minute before Zeckes began to move.

“Are you ready?” Zeckes whispered to Sarkiran; Sarkiran answered with a grin and a nod.

They broke their embrace, but found each other’s claws, and did not let go of one another. Sarkiran turned himself over, and crouched on the floor on all fours. He spread his wings wide, working the soreness out of them before folding them back up. He kicked off his gi pants and underwear. He held onto Zeckes claw and turned his head back towards his friend. Zeckes settled himself behind Sarkiran. Sarkiran playfully swatted his tail at the lion. Zeckes smiled and swatted back with his claw.

Zeckes leaned forward and started by laying a claw on Sarkiran’s right footpad. He rubbed it gently, the fur on his own claws brushing against the scales. Sarkiran purred with pleasure. Zeckes hovered there a moment before slowly continuing up Sarkiran’s leg. He massaged his friend inch by inch, working from the lower legs to knees to his thighs, and the while applying light pressure. Sarkiran’s tail twitched again, this time all on it’s own. It wasn’t long before Zeckes had made it to Sarkiran’s tight buttocks. He patted them gently, and gave Sarkiran’s tail a good, strong work over, the thick muscles at the base loosening up a bit. Sarkiran slowly raised his tail, exposing his tender tailhole. Zeckes could see Sarkiran’s own balls and member hanging from between his legs. Zeckes teased them gently for a moment before continuing on to Sarkiran’s lower back. Zeckes wanted to tease Sarkiran all the way to the brink.

Sarkiran signed with pleasure. His body was on fire, the anticipation slowly building. Zeckes reached the base of Sarkiran’s wings. He rubbed them down gently and moved them to the side. He eased his chest over Sarkiran’s left side, and gently licked the sensitive area under Sarkiran’s wings. Sarkiran stretched his neck aloft, a low, happy growl escaping his muzzle. He continued to mrr softly with each touch. Zeckes licked his way up to the back of Sarkiran’s neck. He kissed it gently. Down near Sarkiran’s tailhole, Zeckes fumbled with Sarkiran’s tail and moved it aside. His genitals were already pressed closely to Sarkiran’s tailhole. Zeckes began to pay the area a bit more attention. Licking his claws, he began to explore the region carefully. He could feel Sarkiran shiver at his touch. Carefully, he probed the tight hole. He cautiously worked one claw into the hole, and then two. After a few minutes, he had worked the muscles lose enough to allow his cock to enter Sarkiran. He eased himself up and pressed the tip of his hardened member against Sarkiran’s tailhole. He met resistance, but continued pushing. Sarkiran grunted in pain. Concerned, Zeckes stopped, but Sarkiran cast a glance back and nodded, indicating he was ok. With much care, Zeckes pressed inside of his friend. His arrowpoint of a cockhead finally slipped inside of Sarkiran. Zeckes felt like his cock was on fire. He never realized how hot a dragon could get. Sarkiran grunted again as Zeckes held himself there. He let the muscles get used to the size of his cock. The muscles slowly untensed, and Zeckes pressed in slowly. He felt his precum begin to flow, making passage a little easier. He pressed forward, and moved his cock in a half-inch at a time. Each time he withdrew, he left his cockhead inside, but did not remove it. Gently, he increased his thrusts. Sarkiran’s own hips began to push against Zeckes’ thrusts. Both Zeckes and Sarkiran began to pant heavily as their joined bodies slowly began moving in rhythm. Zeckes continued to press in, and, with a successful slap, he drove his cock in to the hilt, his balls making a slapping sound against Sarkiran’s buttocks. Zeckes could feel Sarkiran tensing his tailhole up in rhythm with Zeckes’ thrusts. Zeckes growled happily as they smoothed their motion. Zeckes pumped Sarkiran steadily; he drove his member in and out, in and out, occasionally slowing down a bit, and often pulling nearly out completely before driving himself back in all the way. Sarkiran continued to press himself firmly against Zeckes’ hips, driving himself further onto the lion’s cock.

Zeckes moved his claws around Sarkiran’s hips, and, keeping his rhythm going, fondled Sarkiran’s cock and balls. Sarkiran mrr’d loudly, pressing harder against Zeckes’ cock. Zeckes began stroking Sarkiran’s member, and grabbed it firmly with one claw. Sarkiran pressed forward and thrust into Zeckes’ claw; Zeckes timed his thrusts with Sarkiran’s thrusts. For a moment, Zeckes lost himself in the pure ecstasy of their mating.

Zeckes felt movement behind him. He felt a firmness prodding his own tailhole. Lifting his tale, he glanced back to see Sarkiran’s tail maneuvering around his, the tip pressing into his tailhole. Zecks rowled with pleasure. He grunted s bit at the tip worked it’s way into his tailhole. It wasn’t very thick, but seemed to add to the experience.

Sarkiran and Zeckes thrust together, their senses going off the charts. Zeckes licked Sarkiran’s neck; he kissed it over and over again. He felt Sarkiran’s thrusts beginning to grow faster and harder. Zeckes slowed his breathing, and began to feel a warmth burning in his chest. They rocked together, their bodies getting closer to climax, their thrusts going harder and deeper than before. Growling, Zeckes bared his teeth, and bit lightly on Sarkiran’s neck – the instincts of his ancestors were impossible to overcome, but he wouldn’t let himself hurt his friend. He pulled his fangs away from Sarkiran’s neck.

The warmth in Zeckes’ chest became a fire. He felt his instincts taking over, each thrust coming faster and deeper. He felt a roar building in his chest. Below him, Sarkiran began to shudder – he thrusted harder and harder into Zeckes’ claw. Sarkiran’s breathing had quickened, but Zeckes could no longer tell. His motions now were driven by instinct and desire – he was the moment.

Zeckes drew back his body, nearly pulling completely out of Sarkiran. He plunged his member deep in Sarkiran. The pace quickening as a snarl worked it’s way out of Zeckes’ mouth. Sarkiran thrust heavily into Zeckes’ furry paws, the head of his cock blossoming in size, becoming suddenly wider. Sarkiran felt Zeckes member penetrating deeper into him, the head buried deep inside of him. Sarkiran tightened the muscles of his tailhole, trying to clench Zeckes’ cock harder. With a loud roar that shook the ceiling, Zeckes pulled back and thrust deep into Sarkiran. Sarkiran felt Zeckes’ cock exploding inside of him, a painful yet pleasurable sensation beyond all he’d felt this night. He cut loose with a roar of his own and thrust deep into Zeckes’ claws, his seed splashing in long white streams all over the two of them. Zeckes’ thrusts continued in time with his stroking of Sarkiran’s cock, his seed quickly filling Sarkiran. Sarkiran’s thrusts also continued, his dragon seed dripping onto the mats beneath the two of them. Zeckes’ thrusts began to slow, but his seed still flowed. Sarkiran tightened his tailhole even more, trying to contain his new mate’s cock and seed.

Zeckes eased himself down onto Sarkiran, his hips still bucking occasionally. They both lay there panting. Zeckes looked down at his friend and smiled. He kept his member in his mate, and with his free claw pulled Sarkiran’s muzzle to his own. He continued to stroke Sarkiran as they kissed there on the dojo floor, the act of mating complete but the passion they felt for one another very still alive. They held onto each other, not letting go for a long time.