I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Don’t bother to resist, or I’ll beat you. It’s not your fault that you’re always wrong; the weak ones are there to justify the strong.

The distant call of blood dripped down into Akroma’s deadly senses. In his duties, the flame colored bull came upon a nest of mother and offspring. There were two offspring, both males that reeked of Bronze Dragon. The mother resorted to nothing better than a quick, yet patient asking of why the male was intruding upon her lands, yet she soon grew hostile after Akroma answered her very truthfully that today would be her last day of survival. It wasn’t that the flame colored bull had anything better to do, but the mating season was in dead swing, and Akroma’s testosterone level flew off the charts. He could hardly care about formalities now. In a cruel fit of wicked pleasure, Akroma tore the mother to pieces and corned the two young as they cried pitifully for their dead mother. The bull was hesitant, but only for a second as he decided the fates of the younglings; for the female, she would be chased off as he recalled Nira’s specific law for not harming female young. Humor the bitch. He thought with a sudden twinkle in his molten orbs. For the male, his decision was not so merciful. Grinning in a twisted sort of sweet way, he cooed the last offspring, but ended his life in one well aimed clamp of his great and lithe jaws. Or did he? Akroma spread out his wings, leaping into the air, and soared in the direction of the swamps with the barely alive body of the male safely in his mouth.

His mind clicked away, as you could imagine. Why would he bring a live male wyrmling to the swamps if not for some greater purpose than Akroma’s appetite? Sex. That’s what. Since the flame colored Bull wasn’t in such pleasant spirits, Akroma knew that a fresh gift of wyrmling blood would attract the wicked attention of Nira and hopefully allow him to mount her this very day. He supposed that she was in heat, yet with dragonesses, one could never be too sure. Akroma’s eyes scanned the land below him as the area changed before his very eyes into once fertile pasture lands into the familiar dark and moggy bogs of the swamp. He didn’t have to travel a long time to arrive, though he knew that he was expected. Since his mouth was still full of youngling, Akroma didn’t find the words to call out to his dark queen just yet, first he had to land. His talons dug into the wet soil soon after, the ground bending to the incredible bulk of his body. Akroma was in no means overweight; every single pound of his being was composed of pure, raw muscle that reflected his brain power. For he was a dragon of both brain and brawn. What better way to fight, if not with both?

As he placed the still breathing body of the young male at his paws, Akroma lifted his head, eyes sharp and tail lashing from side to side. He could smell the thick aroma of Nira lurking around, so she couldn’t be very far. ”Niradana! I have brought you something. Come look and feast upon my spoils!” His low cry sounded out loud and clear, his legs steady underneath his massive frame as he waited her arrival. Clicking away absently upon the ground, the flame colored bull stole a glance at a sudden noise in the opposite direction. As if commanded to show itself, a small animal darted out into the murky swamp waters, and Akroma once again focused his eyes on the prize to come. Once Nira comes, I will offer her the male wyrmling for her own consumption, then we shall celebrate to her good health. Perhaps then, in said celebrations, we can finally unite and create a race of evil on our own. He knew that this was fated to happen, between Niradana and himself, yet it was only a matter of time. This was the time. The mating season was at its peek, just like Akroma; top breeding condition and a prize for any female, in heat or not. The flame colored bull could only imagine how she would take to his little present. Below him, the tiny wyrmling make a faint whimpering noise, trying to get up and look around. The deep fear scent was intoxicating to inhale, but he kept a firm gaze on the foliage. He would not be tempted by him, only by Nira and her delicious wickedness.

I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Don’t bother to resist, or I’ll beat you. It’s not your fault that you’re always wrong; the weak ones are there to justify the strong.

At first Akroma wasn’t sure that Niradana would heed his call. The very thought of her ignoring his advances infuriated him to the point of venting out his anger upon the wyrmling below him. The Hellfire Wyrm would have tore the small dragon to shreds, scattering the body around the entire clearing and feasting upon his entrails. Growling silently towards himself, he stiffened, forcing himself to wait another moment. Fortunately, the sound of wingbeats filled his ears and soon the hot scent of Nira was flooding his nostrils. A smirk transformed his maw into something exceedingly charming yet still terrible. He did not expect a warm greeting and he received none, only the strict word of not letting the youngling die quickly. Akroma sneered faintly at this. He had gone through all that trouble to bring him back alive. He knew that feeling life being thrust out of another’s body was intoxicating to him, and to most Killers like them, he assumed, but no. Nira liked her wyrmlings dead and filled with blood, not dripping down his carcass for that long a journey. The bull could hardly care anyway; Nira was alone with him, at last.

His thoughts clouded over as he watched her do the honors of tearing the young male into pieces, later giving him the wyrmling’s head and devouring the rest for herself. So far, his plans were going well; she had accepted his gift with eagerness. Bending his massive head to the ground, he scooped up the head within his jaws and soon the sound of crushing bones filled the air like a sweet serenade of song. His molten gold optics failed to gaze anywhere but at her, not even bothering with the blood that coated his jaws and neck muscles. So you wish to mount me do you? came her alluringly sweet vocals as she inquired of his intensions. Akroma knew that she knew as well as he did that he wouldn’t want it any other way. ”Yes.” Came his curt, yet lingering reply. For Akroma mating was just another kill to feast upon. He had mounted so many females in his time, both evil and good natured, all strong. They had to be to create strong wyrmlings, but Nira was more wicked than all of his most prized conquests. He wouldn’t call it love, but only the obsession of having her; lust as well as some sort of twisted respect for her. Either way, lust would win out. Let all of our sins mingle with each others…to create a perfect union. Desire rushed in his veins like liquid fire as he grew more and more prepared to mount her each second. Watching her taste and prepare herself was like watching sinful rapture.

There would be no more need for words. Akroma would only speak when spoken to and nothing other. He was hers and she also belonged to him. Sick love indeed. He approached her slowly, digging his eager talons into the ground imagining it as her flesh as he penetrated her. His tail curled around Nira’s, absently finding some grip upon her scaly hide. Once near her, he nuzzled the inside of her thighs with his snout. Her scent was intoxicating as well as the softer feel of her cloaca beneath his jaws. His tongue found its way inside her, tasting her sweet nectar as his body began to encircle her in his grasp. Licking the stray juices from where the drop had trickled down her thigh, he made sure that she would stay well lubricated for him. Once he lifted his head, his fangs flashed at her neck, but halted mere inches from her quivering throat as she drew breath. Now he was going to become rough with her, but not annoyingly so, but in a pleasurable way. Akroma knew how to satisfy. Nira demanded to be impressed, so impressed she shall be. Lowering himself on top of her frame, his shaft revealed and stiff, he penetrated her with a single, swift motion.

I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Don’t bother to resist, or I’ll beat you. It’s not your fault that you’re always wrong; the weak ones are there to justify the strong.

Thick cum surrounded his shaft as he entered her, slipping into her with relative ease from her juices and his eager hardness. The tender flesh of her cloaca tightened around him, the heat overwhelming for both of them. Akroma’s body heat burst to life, yet kept his temperature at a tolerable level so it would not make his dragoness comfortable for the whole enjoyable process. The Bulls body rippled above hers, legs stiff as he held himself over her and collected his weight evenly. His muscles contracted at each deliberate thrust, his shaft traveling inside the walls of her most sacred temple. Every motion inside her was greeted with a twitch of pleasure, her walls eagerly taking everything he willingly gave. Heated breath escaped his flared nostrils, rapidly taking in air flow. Hellfire Wyrms had naturally great stamina and were stubborn about letting go of their seed, but it happened eventually if the female was still releasing her fluids with him. Either way, Akroma knew that this experience would be very pleasurable. Claws grappling her hide, he continued, his actions programmed to delight and thrill to no end, which would be done by excess.

The bulls eyes were still locked on Niradana’s, molton gold narrowed to warn her not to struggle, but instead of a snarl of threat from demanding too much from her, he felt the soft wet tongue of the dragoness against his flame colored snout. Her voice washed over him, refreshing as a cold splash of wind rustling his wings. Clear as spring water, her voice serenaded him from the tip of his snout to the end of his tail. ”You don't have to be aggressive in actions, just aggressive in performance... I'm not going anywhere” Even though he had received her reassurance, he still was a Bull and he would always be possessive. He would not let her go until he was finished, willing or unwilling, yet it was a decent amount of trust that she gave to him; her promise that she would no try to escape his clutches. Nira spoke again, this time filling him with pride all the while, grinning from both sides of his jaws. You are mine, Nira… He echoed inside himself, thrusting further into her body, cloaca tight around his shaft like she would never dream of letting him go. His wings fanned out beside him , wrapping the deep maroon membrane around her body, trapping the delicious heat inside while a volcano was soon to erupt.

Head bent beside hers, Akroma spoke as well, growling out with husky force, ”I am your Soldier. I will fight for you, shed my blood for you, and kill for you.” Her voice still lingered in his head, compelling him to walk on risky grounds inside his consciousness. His snout rubbed along her neck, leaving a trial of hot affection on her skin where his tongue darted out between his lips and caressed her aggressively. Inside her, his shaft was as hard as rock, slowly exploring every inch of her body, eagerly finding every pleasurable spot for her to experience and magnify it tenfold for her alone. He often did not tease his consorts, but a unbearable desire to please her drove him forward, his body heated and towering on top of hers. His grip on her tightened, his wings digging in the ground beside her flanks as he encircled her in a flame colored shied. He felt so great, wanting to bathe in Nira’s enemies and and fulfill her again and again in the blood bath with her, both covered in blood and boiling. This had to be some great sin, that only few Hellfire Wyrms felt, let alone an other kind of dragon. They were the symbol of Sin; the two suffer geniuses…Power symbols.