By a pebble-strewn stream-bed, running through the bottom of a narrow ravine, lie two dragons, one of them light blue and the other one dark green. The blue one, younger and smaller, lies with his feet tucked neatly beneath his body, wings folded tidily at his sides, and the green one, looking slightly older and a bit larger, is sprawled gawkishly on the gravel, not seeming to be sure of what to do with all of his limbs.
The green one is you, and you are awkwardly attempting to bend yourself in half to figure out an important aspect of draconic hygiene, not having been one for very long.
{{So I bend myself in half, like this?}} you ask, struggling to maneuver your snout far enough between your legs to reach the base of your tail.
{{Something like that}} he says, sounding inordinately amused.
{{What? What am I doing wrong?}} you demand, pausing.
As he shakes his head, his thought-voice is giggling sonorously, but his throat produces something more like a rumbling, thunderous purr. {{Sorry}} he says, sounding embarrassed. {{It's just been a while since I saw someone else doing it up-close, and it looks funny for anyone, I guess}}.
You consider shooting Dizzy a glare, but with a resigned flush, you just try giving yourself an experimental lick on what feels like it must be your buttock. {{It's not as gross as I had thought}} you admit. {{It's my germs, I guess}}. You spend a while doing this, licking there and around the area.
{{You're missing the most important part}} Dizzy scolds you. {{Do I have to clean you like a hatchling, just so you know what you're supposed to do?}} At some point, he had come around you to watch to see how you were doing, and he has been watching you intently.
You're put quite on the spot by his question, and you freeze solid, your hind-leg still sticking comically up in the air as you look at him, trying to read and understand the look in his eyes. In spite of his tone, you see something there that you didn't expect, and regardless of any cultural differences between dragons and humans, you have trouble believing that drakes normally would offer each other this type of service. You realize you are at a crossroads. {{Hecate, guide this fool}} you pray helplessly in your inner thoughts. {{Go ahead}} you say softly to Dizzy, moving your head away.
Gently, Dizzy spreads your thighs apart with his forepaws, and his tapered, narrow tongue snakes its way into your anus. {{Like this}} he says authoritatively. {{Go in deep, so you get all you can}}. The feeling of his tongue piercing into you feels tender, familiar and motherly. You had expected to feel more invaded and uncomfortable. The whelp doesn't hold back, grabbing hold of your hips firmly and spreading you out so that he can go deep up in there.
After watching him for only a moment, you sigh and spread out on your back to let him work, and you start to feel and hear something resounding in your chest. It's as if something deep in your throat were playing your rib-cage like a drum. As you notice it, it pauses, and as you relax again, it continues once more. You are purring. It's sort of humiliating, from the standpoint of someone who is accustomed to seeing a creature that purrs as a kept pet.
You close your eyes, and as you imagine yourself, you are momentarily human again. You are just a teenage boy with smooth, soft skin in place of the scales. Not sure what Dizzy would look like, you just see a mop of tousled black hair where his head is. You are lying on your back with your legs propped up and spread out.
As this goes on, though, you suddenly realize that you can see everyone you know at your school and your family, and they are standing around pointing as they watch the scene in varying degrees of horror, disgust and vicious hilarity. They turn into demons that dance and whirl around you. Your own mother's face has a twisted, scornful sneer, and your father is as white as a cadaver and gazing with empty eyes at you. Each face from your life shows one frozen rictus or another that doesn't move even as they dance. Their taunts and criticisms bite into you like whips, pointing out how ridiculous you look. The whips turn into fire, which cut into your flesh with a "CRACK!" and a "HISS!" Wherever the fire-whips touch you, your skin bubbles and turns into green scales, carving away pieces of your humanity bit by bit. Each mark brands you as what you are: you are a monster, a joke, a hodgepodge amalgamation of beasts that combines into a gawkish, sprawling wreck of a wounded and wasted creature.
You snap out of it, and you open your eyes to see a concerned-looking blue muzzle that is anything but frozen but actually rather soft, Dizzy's gray eyes blinking as they look into your own. {{Those creatures are not here}} he says gently. {{I'm here, and you're not ugly. You're not uglier than me. You don't think I'm ugly, do you? I hope I'm not, anyhow}}.
As you look back into the gray-eyed chimerical visage, you realize you can't find it in you to see it the way you that see your changed self. You see the creature that cared for you when you were sick. You see the creature that has fed you and tried to help you. You can't see a single defect on him, and his sky-blue scales, the color of raw kyanite, look so very pretty over his hide, like someone borrowed a few pieces of the sky and sewed them into a beautiful garment. His wings he wears around himself gallantly like a medieval kilt, furled and pleated professionally at his sides. No, a dragon is not an inherently hideous creature, and it's hard to imagine why you first saw him as a brute. He is statuesque and regal, and he has the look of aristocracy. Weakly, you shake your head. {{You're beautiful}} you say.
{{You liked having my tongue in there more than I thought you would}} he says bluntly.
It's undeniable. Your shaft is quite hopelessly erect, but you don't feel tense or nervous. You feel comfortable and relaxed, and you can't stop smiling now as he looks into your eyes. Looking into his eyes takes some of the itchiness off the unfulfilled erection and calms its throbbing as if just looking into those gray seas answers its call more effectively than any touch. {{Yes}} you admit.
You...