} Chapter Crucible | Red Dragon by Shadowmaggot323 at Inkitt

Red Dragon

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Francis. Wanted nothing more. Than the sweet, luxurious release of death at that moment... What could he really say at that moment? What could he do? Nicole had him exactly where she wanted him: Alone, stripped naked, with more than enough to extort whatever she pleased. And he knew exactly what she pleased. He knew what was coming to him if he stepped foot in that kitchen- then again, he knew what would happen no matter what... Except... there was one, other option, and it would be close to granting him what he desired the most.

No. It was too late. The door was shut, and she would be upon him in the time the wood cracked away. He had no choice... he needed... to join her in that kitchen... The drachen gulped, still his quiver (even if slight)... and took his first step towards her. She was in no rush, though. She simply... watched him, as if gloating as she indulged that sausage. There were more on one of the plates before her, at least thirty links wide and tall with a strong, patty foundation. It was given bacon fortification, a wall half as high but far more succulent; if there was one thing the goblin excelled at, it was bacon. Francis never understood why that was. Sure, she waited to do it last and used the grease, but how did she managed to get them into perfect strips, with only the softest of ripples? Any time he tried, they’d end up curled balls or misshapen abominations not even mothers would love –which reflected its maker in that sense.

Two more steps to the table. Francis could now see over the sausage castle, and see the stacks of pancakes and scrambled eggs. All his favorite breakfast items, all in excess. As if it was celebrating... or, rather, mourning for what was to come.

One more step. Nicole giggled, finishing off that link at last, and scooted onto the seat behind her, patting the one she sat in. It had a soft sheen on its seat, following after the green lass. She was “dressed” just as special that day; Francis figured she had native dressings, but to see her in that black leather belt top, with her dark purple tips barely concealed under that polished braid and its golden latch shut tight in between her cleavage, with her matching, laced panties, the stitches undone, showing off those puffed folds in between her black leggings... he knew he was doomed.

“Go on, dearie. Take a lood off,” she said... and Francis gulped on last time, taking her seat. It was... warm at least. And reeked of desire. She tittered again, and sat up, kissing his cheek. “There be a good lad. Go on and eat. You must have hed a long day.”

“I did,” he muttered, and reached for the plates before him. He wasn’t even sure if he had a stomach anymore, but if it kept her from going any further- it was all too surreal for him. Far too surreal. “What are you doing here?”

“Eve’s orders. She could only hire one from the embassy, but she also saw the sorry state ye were in. I kept pinning and asking, so she sent me to keep an eye on ye.” She cooed, and rubbed his shoulder. “You need not fret, laddie. As long as I am here, you shan’t go wanting. The fairies clued me on how you lived; you cannae rely upon their mercy forever. Starting this weekend, we’re gonna work on your cooking.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Aye. That I am, but that won’t always be the case. If ye want to find a wifey, the best way is just like guys: go for the stomach.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he grumbled, crunching into his first piece of bacon –and, as always, it was divine. He could have wept; it had only been a couple weeks, but he already missed taste of true food... No wonder Jessica looked ready to jump him, even if it was for a meat puck.

But he tensed up, returned to reality as he felt a hand slip down. Down to something that hadn’t been taken care of four days.

“Aye. ye keep a lass well-fed and proper clothed and she’ll do just about anything for you.” She stated, running the tips of her fingers along it, those soft-pink tips scratching softly against. Making it twitch and stir. She tittered, reaching the end, and circled a single finger around it, lifting it up a touch when she pressed under only to let it fall as she continued. It was starting to fail at that, though, and the table was in danger of being knocked over. “You keep those in mind, and you’ll be a da in no time.”

“B... but I don’t want to be a d...dad. N...not yet.”

“Then it’ll work enough to get ye a wench or nine. You’re still young, and I know how much you love to be gobbled. By way, ye notice my claes.”

“I really... c-couldn’t.”

“Ye getting this excited over a little chug? Ye shouldn’t hold in so long... But I thought ye would enjoy it. I’m right surprised it still fits. It’s rather tight on me paps, but I had it made when I was heavy with my first.” She sighed, and climbed onto his lap. And it was warm, warmer than the chair. She looked him in the eyes, those eyes sparkling, her cheeks burning as she rocked against him. “Right. Ye seem filled to the gills if ye are eating that slow. I’m drookit, so if ye done eatin’, carry me to bed and take me hole.”

“I-it’s because I’m tired-”

“Cannae get out of this. I know your limit. Now geez a winch.”

He didn’t have a say in that. She lunged at his lips after demanding, and her tongue slipped into his mouth with such abandon. She moaned, panted as she lapped and sucked on his tongue, rocking even harder against him. He shot out of the seat, trembling wholly, every part of him just as stiff as the part leaking a river onto the chair, mingling with the goblin’s lust. It really was a question of which was thicker, which was raining more, but his own desire had him sprint into the bedroom, even if he truly did not want it.

There was no rest. At all. Not in that apartment. Not in the neighbors’. Not in the city. It was a wonder that they didn’t bring down the complex, but, as the sun began to set, as Francis gave one, last, meek little gag, he collapsed onto the “bed”. What was left could barely be considered one, little more than a shred of topping, the rest torn apart under his bloodied hands. His hips still twitched, his legs, his body too tired, too beaten to try to recoil or lurch away from the goblin’s tongue, still buried inside his tight rump. Her hands still pumped at his member, draining it of every last drop into her lap. Her belts were tossed in the corner, her burgeoning purple tips glazed in his spunk, biting into his quivering sack as it continued to squeeze out drop after painful drop.

She rolled her tongue out of his rump, clucked it, and sighed, giving his ass a hard smack.

“That was lousy,” she said, grumbling as she stood. “It’s a good thing I came when I did. Ye call that hochmagandy after a fortnight? We’re gonnae need to get ye proper again.”

More like you’ve been needing it that bad, he thought. He dared not say it aloud, even if he had the strength to. He’d rather just play dead at that moment and let the crazy Scot finish up before slipping into a (mostly) peaceful slumber... How could Eve do this to him? What he did do to deserve this! Oh. Right. The murders... When he stirred again, a familar scent had seeped into the room. His stomach, once dormant, hollow, roared at him, forcing him to wake in the rubble that he was left in. His back popped, standing, the fresh cuts little more than a labarynth traced upon it. It would need another day or so to be completely clear, but he doubted he would have that luxury. His clothes from yesterday were clean and set on the dresser, with a note from the fairies.

Our condolences.

If Francis knew what that word meant at that moment, he would probably be angrier than he was, but the fact they dared to insult him at all added more than a bit of fire to his gut –extinguished as he walked out into the main area. He could hear prattling, and giggling, all echoing from the kitchen. He slipped on his sweat pants before he continued any further, and threw on his shirt just in time before turning the corner into the kitchen... and seeing Plank and Nicole at the table. His two most favorite people, enjoying his actual favorite breakfast again.

“Look who finally stirred,” Nicole said, waving a sausage at him. “Were you gonnae sleep the whole day away?”

“You would be surprised,” Penny said. “He’s unbelievably lazy.”

“Aye. He’s gone soft in my absence. Ye tried ye best, but it takes a firm hand tae deal with this wee barra.”

“Can I just say I again I love your accent. How long have you been in the states again?”

“Aboot sixty or so, but the blood of the isles still rages in my veins.”

“What are you doing here?” Francis cut in.

Nicole scoffed. “That’s rather rude, Francis. Is that any way to address a guest.”

“That’s actually him being nice,” Plank said, and huffed, waving a fork at Francis. “Eve contacted me. She told to tell you if you wanted to start working to head down to the hobby store today. Then I met Nicky here and we started to talk. Did you really cry your first night?”

“Out of joy. I assure you.”

“Ah made sure he had plenty of it,” Nicole said.

No, you’re the reason it went to shit. He shook his head, growling. “It’s like I said. I don’t want to shit and eat in the same place.”

“Remember what we talked aboot this morning, laddie. If ye want to find a bonnie wif, ye best start thinking of saving.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not in a r... On second thought, it might not be a bad idea. I might stop down there for a while and... discuss.”

ANYTHING to get away from Nicole... I might have played decks as much as I could, but maybe she has a lender I could use.

Penny hummed, seemingly satisfied by his answer, and stood.

“In that case, I should be off. I’m only an hour or so late.”

“Bah!” Nicole said, waving a bit of bacon her way. “If Eve has a problem, Ah’ll tell her it was because of the wee barra here.”

“I was off today,” Francis exclaimed. “She could have easily left the message with you.”

“Again, so rude. If one has a job they see it through.”

“Indeed,” Plank said, giggling, making Francis’ eye twitch. But she didn’t pay him any more mind, even as she squeezed by and left.

Francis closed the door, taking a deep breath... and sighed as he wheeled about-

“Ye ought to show more respect than that,” Nicole said, smacking his dick. Now that they were alone and his anger wasn’t on the wizard, he could see that she no longer wore the garb of her people but a thin black dress. It was amazing how the belts seemed to cover up more than that sheer fabric. She, also, wore a pair of black fuck-me-pumps –you could try to call them stilettos, but she will simply laugh at you and correct. The scum he remembered the night before was nowhere to be seen, her dark green skin peerless and shimmering, as if oiled. Which would surprise Francis in the slightest- she slapped his dick again. “Are ye listening, ye daft ninny?”

“Yeah yeah. Give Plank the Cosplayer more respect- ah!”

“She’s been through a lot, and is helping ye.”

“Not out of the kindness of her own heart. That much I can tell you.”

“Aye, but we don’t always do what we like. We do what we must... It’s nice that you got dressed, but ah cannae allow you in the kitchen reeking of sex. Go take a shower.”

“Fine.” He eased passed her... but felt her follow. Every step of the way. To say he was tentative to disrobe with her right there was an understatement; his rump was already clenched before he initially stepped out. Now? The next time she “spelunked” she would be pulling out diamonds. But... she wasn’t leaving him. She followed him through the bedroom (back in one piece) and into the bathroom, where she sat on the sink, watching him. At least she wasn’t behind him, though. “So. What do you plan to do the rest of the day?”

“Well, ah already began most of it. Ah was lookin’ for recipes to teach you on the fly. Also planning meals ahead; ah didn’t want to tell you yesterday, but ah will only be here four days a week.”

“Oh no. Whatever shall I do?”

“Aye, but it was the only way ah could be here. Once ah get my monthly schedule, Eve’ll print one out for ye.”

“What about this week?”

“Ye have me all weekend, then Eve needs me back until Wednesday. Ah’ll be gone Thursday then back Friday. Thursday’s my day.”

He hummed, and stepped into the shower... Still unable to relax. He could still feel her gaze through the smoked glass, but hated having the shower curtain to his back. He could not find a good way to stand to save his life, so he showered quick. He donned his apparel again, and followed the goblin to the kitchen, gesturing him to his seat once more. She took her usual place- and once more her hands roved.

“It’s a shame yer heading out,” she said, biting her lower lip, “but one cannot turn down the prospects of a job. Especially now.”

“We all have to make sacrifices,” he grumbled, tearing into the leftovers. They were the very definition of such; the plates were still hot from being tossed into the oven to reheat, which worked fine on the meat and pancakes. The eggs, though? Might as well have been rubber. After seven times trying to impale one piece, he gave up on the eggs- and the table jumped, making them fly as he glared at the goblin. “Do you mind?”

“Just making sure it knows a woman’s touch before ye head oot,” she said, giggling as she continued to rub him. Her arm was down his trouses, her other on his chest, kneading at it. “Ah remember when you first arrived at Eve’s. Ye were so timid, afeart and unsure... Had to guide ye, make ye realize the real world. How long did it take ye to get used to my touch?”

“Do you have to sound so sentimental when stroking my dick!” He scoffed, and eased her hand out as he stood. He washed his plate, taking his time while trying to rush at the same time; it was a fine balance, but it needed to be. The goblin stood, floating ever closer, but he swabbed the items off the put them away before heading into the entry. His case was by the door, swung up and through the door in one, fell stroke. He took the stairs, if but to break eye-contact with that triple-G-gilf, but felt them upon his head as he approached the hobby store.

Met by an (arguably) hungrier set of eyes.

“Welcome back,” Beatrice said. She was standing at the counter, in a soft cream dress this day and looked oh, so bright and welcoming. “I see you found yourself a pair of pants.”

“Sadly. The muumuu was comfier- before you ask: I’m not here to work. Yet.”

“Oh... That’s a shame. Understandable, though; this was your first true week of class. Are you handling it well?”

“Yes, but no... Say, I brought ‘my’ cards, but if you have a set of decks, we could use-”

“That’s quite all right. We’ll use yours.” Once more she lead him downstairs- and what a difference a week make. Before, there were only a smattering of people. It was the middle of the week, after all. People in classes... Now? Now that it is their day off, the tables were packed. The once echoing room now buzzed with a constant droll, only muffling a little as he entered. Beatrice lead him to the usual place, cleared as they approached, and they sat, pulling out a couple of the decks. “You’re just in time. The event was about to start.”

“What event?”

“It’s usually on Friday nights, but we... make an exception.”

“Wait... is that,” a voice called through the crowd. A very fat, heavy voice. “It is! Francis! Hey, Francis!”

“Oh no,” he grumbled, shuffling his cards. All the while that voice called. His head found solace in his palm, listening to it ever grow closer, hearing the crowd exclaim and gasp as rolls slapped and clapped as they passed.

“Francis!” Ben repeated, clapping his shoulder... and wheezing like a freight train. “C...couldn’t you h- one moment... hoo, man... a... a bit l...”

“A friend of yours?” Beatrice said.

“A classmate,” Francis grumbled- wincing as the centaur coughed- gagged... and sighed.

“Okay... Hey. Whose your lady friend? I heard you were after a harpy yesterday, but if this is her I can’t blame you. Damn, she looks fine.”

“Thank you, but this is all news to me.”

“It was a dare in front of the school. Nothing happened.”

“That’s not what I heard-”

“Who the hell cares what you heard.”

“Ouch. True, though. Can’t trust rumors- but then who is this hot meal bucket. Do you have dibs?”

“Why, I am the owner of the establishment,” Beatrice said, sneering at him. “No one has ‘dibs’ on me, but, I assure you, I would sooner go with Francis than you.”

Ben nudged Francis’ shoulder. “There you go, buddy!”

D... did he just... Francis groaned- growled as his cards went flying.

“Whoa! Hey, man. Chill,” Ben said, and helped him pick up the cards. He leaned in close to Francis as he did, and lowered his voice. “Don’t screw this up.”

“Oh. Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Ben huffed, giving him a large smile, and smacked his shoulder.

“Yeah, Francis and I are in the same class.”

“Are you now?” Beatrice said, drawing her hand.

“Yeah. He’s really great. A real smooth-talker with all the ladies. You can’t pry them off him.”

Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!

“So I heard,” Beatrice said. “Rather, the entire town heard. What was her name? She had no problem yelling yours.”

“She’s nobody,” Francis grumbled, playing his first land –and gilf.

“Nobody, huh? You just have sex with complete strangers?”

“Hell no, but Francis here can’t keep track of all the names,” Ben said, smacking his back. “Doesn’t mean he can’t remember, but they go by so fast he can only know them at a gl-”

“Her name is Nicole,” Francis interjected- which his fins started to fan as Ben cut back in!

“See? He remembered. It just took him a moment. How could he ever forget such fine-ass bitches! Especially you.”

Beatrice... snickered. “You’re right. He would never forget me.”

“Go get her bud,” Ben whispered into his ear. He was smiling from ear-to-ear, nudging him... while the rest of the room had gone silent. He was completely oblivious to the chill that now permeated it, or the tension that now sat upon Francis like a thick quilt, constricting tighter with each pat... Suddenly, being with Nicole didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

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