The silver light of the full moon bathed the open meadow in an ethereal glow, casting long, dancing shadows across the tall grass.
Far from the bustling streets of Orario, the silence was broken only by the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of a cool night breeze.
Amidst this tranquil expanse, a solitary, well-lit tent stood as a beacon of warmth.
Outside, at a small table, sat Draco and Bahamut.
Two silver-haired figures, reunited after five years of separation, yet currently held hostage by an awkward, two-minute silence.
Bahamut's gaze flitted across Draco's frame, lingering for a heartbeat too long before she snapped her eyes away, her cheeks heating up under his steady, crimson-eyed stare.
Draco knew the tension needed a catalyst.
With a subtle flick, he let his muscular tail drift beneath the table, its black scales grazing against her silver scales.
Bahamut yelped, her silver eyes snapping back to his with a playful glare.
She lashed her own tail in retaliation, hitting his shin.
"What was that for?" she demanded, though her voice lacked any real bite.
"You seemed tense," Draco replied, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I was just trying to help you relax."
"I wasn't nervous," she huffed, turning her head away.
"Says the woman who's been ogling at my body all evening," he teased.
Bahamut countered quickly, "Who's looking at whom? I seem to recall someone being quite handsy during lunch."
"Well, of course," Draco said, his tone shifting into one of disarming sincerity.
"I love you, after all."
Bahamut froze, her hand flying to her chest as if to calm her frantically beating heart.
"You really want to give me a heart attack, don't you?"
Draco chuckled, watching the endearing sight.
He was amused by the idea of a dragon goddess suffering from such a mortal ailment, but grateful for the thawing atmosphere.
As they traded barbs, the stiffness in her shoulders finally vanished.
Seeing his opening, Draco ducked into the tent to retrieve the meal.
He returned with a spread that smelled of home: savory meatballs in a rich composite sauce, delicate pan-seared salmon from Melen, and creamy risotto.
For dessert, he had prepared a cheesecake coated in fresh cream.
He had long abstained from baking sweets, fearing the indulgence would lead to unhealthy habits for the younger female members of the Bahamut familia, but tonight felt earned.
They were adults now; a little indulgence was long overdue.
The meal passed in a comfortable rhythm.
Bahamut filled the air with stories of the last five years...familia struggles, the petty gossip of bored deities, and the shifting landscape of Orario.
Draco played the role of the attentive listener, interjecting only to steer the conversation or offer an encouraging hum.
Eventually, the space between them vanished.
Draco moved his chair flush against hers, his hulking arm wrapping securely around her petite frame.
He drew her closer, letting her hypnotic voice weave through the night air until he could no longer resist the allure of the moment.
As she paused for breath, Draco leaned down, silencing her final words with a soft, lingering kiss.
........
Draco's sudden kiss had been an unexpected punctuation mark, a tender silencing of her chatter that left Bahamut breathless.
Her surprised gasp was swallowed by his lips, and her earlier nervousness dissolved into a surge of warmth that spread through her veins.
His hand, previously coiled around her waist, moved upward, cupping the back of her silver head, deepening the kiss.
Her own hands, which had been gesticulating animatedly moments before, now found purchase on his broad shoulders, clinging to him as if he were the only stable point in a suddenly spinning world.
The soft murmur of the wind, the distant chirping of crickets, all faded into the background, replaced by the pounding of her heart against his chest and the soft brush of their scales.
When he finally broke the kiss, a faint gasp escaped her, her vision slightly blurred, her lips tingling.
Draco's crimson eyes, usually so intense, twinkled with a mischievous affection that made her blush all over again.
He simply smiled, a knowing, utterly captivating grin.
"It's getting a bit breezy out here," Draco murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her, pulling her back to the present.
He gestured subtly with his chin towards the sky, which, only moments ago, had been a canvas of stars and the moon.
Now, thin, wispy clouds were beginning to gather, obscuring the moon's brilliance, and the gentle caress of the breeze had grown into a more insistent whisper, tugging at the edges of the tent.
A single, cool droplet landed on Bahamut's cheek, followed swiftly by another.
"Oh," Bahamut breathed, her eyes widening as she felt the subtle shift in the air.
"Rain."
Draco rose, his height casting a momentary shadow over her, before offering her a hand. "Come," he said, his voice soft, "let's move this date indoors."
Bahamut, still feeling the lingering heat of his kiss, took his hand.
His touch was firm, grounding, and sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
The outside world had begun to grow colder, the light drizzle turning the tall grass a darker shade of green, making the entrance to the tent seem like an inviting haven.
As Draco led her, his large frame moved alluringly.
The tent, which had served as a mere backdrop for their dinner, now revealed its true purpose.
Inside, the light was softer, filtered through the thick canvas, creating an intimate glow.
The dim magic lamps, which had illuminated their dining table, now cast long, dancing shadows within the enclosed space.
The air was noticeably warmer, a welcome relief from the sudden chill outside.
But what truly caught Bahamut's eye was the sight that awaited them: a large, plush fur bed, spread generously across the ground, its rich, dark pile inviting and luxurious.
It looked like a nest, a nest crafted specifically for them.
A faint scent of cedar and something musky, permeated the air, instantly relaxing her further.
The sound of the rain, no longer a mere drizzle, began to patter more insistently against the canvas, a soothing rhythm that enveloped them in their secluded bubble.
The wind, too, picked up, creating a gentle sighing sound as it chafed against the tent walls.
Yet, within, it was tranquil, warm, and intensely private.
Draco led her to the edge of the fur bed, guiding her down with a tender hand on her back.
The furs were incredibly soft beneath her, yielding and comforting.
He settled beside her, not too close, but close enough that the warmth of his body radiated to hers.
"This… this is beautiful, Draco," Bahamut murmured, her gaze sweeping over the intricate details of the tent's interior, the way the light played off the hanging tapestries, the sheer thoughtfulness behind it all.
She turned to him, her silver eyes reflecting the soft lamplight, brimming with an unspoken question and a deep, blossoming affection.
"Only the best for my goddess," he replied, his voice a low murmur, his crimson gaze never leaving hers.
He reached out, a large finger gently tracing the delicate curve of her jawline, his touch light as a feather.
"Are you still cold?"
"No," she whispered, leaning into his touch, her heart a frantic flutter against her ribs.
The rain outside continued its serenade, a soft drumming against the canvas that heightened the sense of their shared intimacy.
They lay there for a while, side by side, listening to the rain, the only sounds within the tent their quiet breaths and the soft rustle of furs as they shifted.
The conversation that followed was different now, softer, more fragmented than the vibrant tales she had spun earlier about the Familia and the gods.
It was less about the world outside and more about the world within them.
She found herself talking about the quiet ache of his absence, the small moments she missed him, the void he left.
He, in turn, spoke of his longing, the determination that fueled his every effort to return to her, to this very moment.
Their words were punctuated by soft touches: his hand finding hers, his thumb stroking her knuckles, her fingers intertwining with his.
The heat between them wasn't the roaring inferno of a sudden blaze, but a slow, steady burn, like embers igniting deeper and deeper.
Draco's touch grew bolder, moving from her hand to her arm, then gliding along the curve of her waist, drawing her closer until no space remained between them.
Her head now rested against his shoulder, the comforting thrum of his heartbeat echoing against her ear.
The scent of him, woodsy and masculine, filled her senses, intoxicating and familiar.
He eased himself up, his powerful arm supporting his weight, and looked down at her, his crimson eyes pools of passion and tenderness.
Bahamut, caught in his gaze, felt her breath hitch.
She reached up, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the increasing rainfall.
He leaned down again, slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, but she only arched her neck, meeting him halfway.
This kiss was different than the one outside, slower, deeper, a tender exploration that spoke of years of pent-up longing and unspoken desires.
His lips moved expertly against hers, coaxing her to open, and when she did, his tongue found hers, a gentle dance that sent shivers of exquisite pleasure down her spine.
Her hands, almost of their own volition, found their way beneath his shirt, her fingers brushing against the warm, hard plane of his back, feeling the tautness of his muscles.
He groaned, a low, guttural sound that vibrated through her, and she felt herself melt into him.
Undressing, for two individuals whose bodies were unusual, proved to be an exercise in charming clumsiness.
Their fingers fumbled with fastenings, their tails occasionally got in the way, eliciting soft laughs and shy blushes.
Yet, each impediment only served to heighten the anticipation, to make each revealed patch of skin, each glimpse of scaled flesh beneath fabric, an exquisite revelation.
Draco's hands, surprisingly gentle for their size, slowly peeled away her dress, revealing the elegant curve of her shoulders, the delicate silver scales that shimmered under the dim light, the soft swell of her breasts.
Bahamut, in turn, reciprocated, her fingers trembling slightly as they worked at the ties of his attire, exposing the expanse of his chest, the intricate patterns of his black scales, the sheer power contained within him.
When at last they lay fully bare upon the soft furs, the heat in the tent was no longer solely from the magic lamps.
It was a palpable thing, radiating from their entwined bodies.
Bahamut, initially shy, shielded her modesty with her arms, but Draco, seeing her vulnerability, simply smiled, a reassuring, tender smile that dissolved her apprehension.
He reached out, taking her hands, moving them away, exposing her fully to his gaze, but his eyes held no judgment, only reverence and a hungry admiration.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion, his gaze sweeping over her form, lingering on the curve of her hip, and delicate slope of her inner thigh.
A blush intensified on her cheeks, but she met his gaze, a nascent confidence blooming within her.
She, in turn, allowed her eyes to roam over his powerful physique, the breadth of his shoulders, the ripple of muscles.
He was magnificent, and he was hers.
Draco's touch was hesitant at first, a light exploration.
His palm skimmed over her stomach, then upward, cupping one breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.
Bahamut gasped, a soft, involuntary sound that seemed to encourage him.
He leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along her neck, then to her collarbone, and finally, closing over her breast, drawing it into his mouth.
A jolt of pure pleasure shot through her, and her hands instinctively tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer, pressing him harder against her.
Their lack of experience, rather than hindering them, became a part of the romance.
There were tentative movements, soft inquiries, little sighs that asked for more, and eager responses that granted.
Their tails, at first somewhat awkward, soon found a language of their own, coiling and intertwining, mirroring the rising passion between their bodies.
Draco guided her with whispered words and gentle nudges, teaching her the rhythm of their bodies, the ebb and flow of desire.
Bahamut, receptive and eager, returned his attentions with a growing boldness, her hand exploring the planes of his back, the hardness of his buttocks, the unexpected hardness of his dick.
When he finally positioned himself between her legs, the contact was electric.
A gasp escaped them both, a mixture of awe and anticipation.
The sensation of his hard, burning flesh pressing against her own soft, yearning form was overwhelming.
He moved slowly, deliberately, giving her time to adjust, to acclimate to the invading pressure. Her body, taut with nerves and desire, gradually softened, yielding to him.
The first thrust was met with a sharp intake of breath from Bahamut, a cry that was half surprise, half pleasure.
It was an intense, exquisite stretching, a sensation she had never known, a tearing of a veil between them.
Draco froze, his crimson eyes locking with hers, concern etched on his face.
"Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
She nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but determination shone through them. "Don't stop," she pleaded, her voice a raw whisper.
"Please, Draco."
With her permission, he began to move again, slowly at first, allowing her body to accommodate his.
The initial discomfort quickly gave way to a new kind of pleasure, a deep, filling sensation that resonated through her very core.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, wanting more.
And then, they found their rhythm.
It was a primeval dance, an instinctual joining of bodies that transcended their individual identities.
The rain outside became a drumming symphony to their unified movements, the wind a chorus to their gasps and moans.
Draco's movements grew more confident, more powerful, yet always attuned to her reactions, to the subtle shifts in her body.
Bahamut arched into him, meeting his thrusts with an eagerness that surprised even herself, her nails digging gently into the taut muscles of his back, her silver tail lashing against his black one in a frantic, sensual rhythm.
Their bodies shone with a fine sheen of sweat under the dim light, their scales glistening as they moved.
Each thrust, each grind, each deep plunge brought forth a new wave of sensations, a deeper plunge into the abyss of pleasure.
Their breaths came in ragged gasps, their soft moans escalated into cries of pure ecstasy.
The sounds of their skin slapping together, the soft exhalations, the fervent whispers of their names, mingled with the persistent drum of the rain, creating a symphony of their shared climax.
Wave after wave of sensation crashed over Bahamut, building to an unbearable intensity, her body tensing, quivering, before finally erupting in a shattering orgasm.
Her vision blurred, her ears filled with ringing, and she cried out Draco's name, her body convulsing around him.
Moments later, Draco followed, his own powerful cries echoing hers as he poured himself into her, his body trembling with the force of his release.
He collapsed onto her, heavy and spent, but immediately shifted his weight, his head burying into the crook of her neck, peppering it with soft kisses.
They lay there for a long time, their hearts pounding in unison, their bodies slick with sweat, entwined in the soft furs.
The storm outside raged on, mirroring the storm that had just passed within them.
But the desire, far from being sated, only seemed to deepen, changing from a frantic hunger to a tender, insistent craving.
As the hours stretched into the night, they rediscovered each other again and again, their initial clumsiness replaced by a sublime understanding, a silent language spoken through touch and movement.
The tent became their world, a sacred space where embarrassment had no place, only raw, uninhibited passion.
They made love until exhaustion claimed them, only to be reawakened by a fresh surge of desire, each encounter building upon the last, exploring new facets of pleasure, new depths of connection.
They kissed, they held, they whispered promises, and they made love with an intensity that burned.
The rain outside eventually softened, quieting to a soft murmur, then fading into a gentle silence, but within the tent, their passion continued its relentless dance.
It was only when the first, tentative rays of dawn began to filter through the tent's canvas, painting the interior with soft, golden hues, that they slowly, reluctantly, returned to their senses. The world outside was waking, fresh and new after the night's rain.
Bahamut stirred first, stretching languidly, her body aching deliciously in places she hadn't known existed.
She opened her silver eyes, still heavy with sleep and afterglow, to find Draco watching her, a soft smile gracing his lips.
His crimson eyes, no longer burning with passion, held a gentle adoration that made her heart swell.
They lay tangled together, their limbs intertwined, their tails wrapped around each other like protective coils.
The fur bed was disheveled, but somehow managed to hold.
Draco reached out, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her face, his touch brimming with tenderness.
"Good morning, my lady," he whispered, his voice a low, raspy murmur, still thick with sleep and contentment.
Bahamut smiled, a radiant, utterly content smile without opening her eyes.
"Good morning, Draco," she replied, her voice soft, hoarse but filled with happiness.
The five years apart, the awkwardness, the waiting...it had all led to this.
And it was, in every exquisite, thrilling, and ultimately loving moment, perfect.
A/N: So what do you all think, I know it wasn't very descriptive, fairly mild and not so freaky…..but it's kind of fits the vibe. If you all noticed, I try not to use swear words and modern slang in the story for immersion purposes, however if you all desire porn type sex scenes then let me know...enjoy reading.