Page 95 of In the Embrace of Dragons

VIZARIOS

After a few months have passed, the healer confirms what we already suspected: that Ragnakor’s seed took. I know what he fears—that the wardens will refuse this heir—but as soon as news travels that the queen is pregnant, there are celebrations all over the kingdom.

She is rather grumpy about the situation, and understandably so. She complains often that she’s having trouble thinking straight, and her mood rises and falls with the tides. She’s hungry all the time, but none of the foods we have on offer sate her needs.

At last, the spring sun warms the snow, and the delegation returns—and with them, an entire caravan of humans.

“There’s hundreds of them!” Nissia says with wonder as they filter up the mountainside, into the city. “What will we do with everyone?”

“The wardens have already made their requests. We will offer different types of work and different locations, and each can choose where theywould like to go.”

She seems impressed. “That’s very fair.”

And so, our new immigrants are given their reward in coin for making the long journey and then sent out across the kingdom to fill what needs must be filled. It’s not long before the wardens are sending me letters, thanking me as if I had anything to do with it. I ensure to reply, crediting my wife and advisor with the idea and the execution.

Then other things begin to change. Nissia’s belly swells, and her breasts do, too. She grumps that her back hurts and so do her feet, and we attend to her with massages and warm compresses while our dragonling grows bigger inside her.

What I find most fascinating is that the rounder she gets, the more Nissia needs our attentions. She is demanding and adorably selfish, craving one of our cocks inside her every night.

She is the one who suggests that we both try to fit at once. The idea is marvelously enticing, as neither Ragnakor nor I had considered making use of her ass before.

“I have two,” she says brightly. “Might as well.”

We agree that Ragnakor ought to use her well-trained cunt, as he is larger, and then we will work her up to taking me in her perfect, plump rear.

And fuck, it turns out there is nothing so good as you and your husband’s cocks fitting inside your pregnant wife.

First, she sits astride Ragnakor’s lap, speared on him. Though we have opened her and stretched her, she has never squeezed both of us inside her until now. I am gentle as I slather my cock in oil and press the tip to her puckered hole. She gasps at just this hint, and I hold her hips steady as I push into her slowly.

“Oh!” Nissia jolts at this invasion. Ragnakor slows his thrusts as I remain shallow, testing her.

“How are you doing, my queen?” I ask, and her ass flexes around me.

“G-g-good,” she manages. “More, please.”

So I give it to her. Gently I sink in farther, watching more of my cock vanish into her tight hole. She cries out, and I make sure to add more oil when I withdraw and then return to her.

“Now,” Ragnakor says, playing with her breasts, “I hope you’re ready to take us both.”

Together, we lift her, then draw her back down onto our cocks. Nissia squeals, and her body tightens marvelously around me. It will not take much, I don’t think.

We pry two climaxes out of her before I can’t hold on any longer. I eject everything, pulling out so I can paint my wife’s pretty ass with my spend. Ragnakor pumps her pussy full, and we all collapse to the bed, panting.

“How did you like that?” I ask Nissia, gathering her up in my arms.

She shivers all over. “It was transcendent.”

But then,before long, she starts to feel unwell. The healer prescribes bed rest, and worst of all, no sexual activity of any kind.

“We need to make sure the dragonling reaches full gestation before she gives birth,” he advises us. “I worry her body may try to do it too soon.”

And so, Nissia is forced to merely watch as our Papa fucks me with abandon, sometimes joining us to lick my cock and squeeze our balls. She lubes up one of our smaller phalluses and presses it inside Ragnakor while he takes me. We are most creative under duress.

Sometimes, though, we simply lie together, my palm resting on Nissia’s big belly, Ragnakor’s arm under her head. We all feel the dragonling move, shifting inside her.

“Oh, see?” she says, grabbing both our hands. “It’s kicking!”

“I hope it isn’t taking such drastic measures,” says Ragnakor in a serious tone. I snort, and once more, the dragonling moves.