This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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A Friendly Massage
The dragon growled to himself as he stalked into the shower, black scales dull with the day’s sweat. Well, if he was more honest with himself, it was more of a shuffle, but it was a stalk in his mind and a stalk it remained, with all the haughtiness of a drake scorned. Shucking his uniform, that of a bodyguard from a respected firm known to cover all manner of jobs, big or small, Ernesto kicked it to the side of the bathroom and stepped into the shower cubicle, eager to feel the hot, steaming caress of water soothing the aggravation of the day from his scales.
Turning his muzzle up into the stream as steam filled the bathroom, Ernesto exhaled slowly, tail undulating slowly back and forth. His shockingly yellow scale plates running down part of the back of his neck gleamed wetly and he groaned as the water seeped between them, a delicious warmth that had been much needed.
Yes, a shower… He groaned and opened his mouth, letting the water trickle into the corners of his maw, a curious, tickling sensation that had fascinated him since he’d been a much smaller dragon, a mere hatchling. A shower was just what he’d needed. Peace and quiet. No shouting. No rush. No chaos. No work.
The water rushed by his ears and he leaned against the cool tiles for respite for the heat, only to plunge himself with renewed vigour back into the stream, lathering up each and every scale on his body with a generous helping of gel. The routine helped settle the stress from his mind too, or at least it usually did. He rubbed and rubbed at sore muscles, trying to find the spots that hurt the most, but every new position he twisted his normally flexible body into seemed to bring up a fresh twinge of pain.
The drake groaned. What was wrong with him? And what was wrong with that bastard of a client, who had had him dragging every fucking thing left, right and centre all fucking day long? He was a bodyguard, not a hired lackey to lift and grunt and move things about!
Someone tapped on the bathroom door with just the one claw, a sharp rap-rap-rap that startled him from his self-conscious run through of the day, fresh pain springing to every bruise and callous adoring his frame.
“Ernesto? You’re back early.”
He growled and closed his eyes, tail clamped down. Could he not have a moment of peace? Frustration roiled in his stomach, a pit of snakes, and he took a deep breath, pressing his fingers to his temples where a pounding headache threatened to burst through his skull.
“Yeah.”
It was funny how a single word could say so much, for his roommate, Christa, left him alone, understanding in her own way that he was not really in the mood to discuss matters of the day. Swearing and bitching about matters over a drink would come later, but, for that time, all he yearned to do was enjoy the sanctity of his shower in peace – perhaps even with his paw wrapped around a certain organ of his.
But he was too tired even for that, stress layering tension into each and every muscle of his body in such a way that he could not untwine it from the fibres. Eventually, he had to give up and concede defeat, leaving his clothes in a crumpled heap as he slouched his way to his bedroom with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Putting on clothes would have been too much effort, but he made the token gesture of dragging on a pair of loose, old shorts, popping his tail through the hole in the back without bothering to do up the strap beneath. They’d do. What was the damn dragoness Christa going to say about it anyway? He was sure she’d seen him in a worse state.
Groaning as his back pulled with a twinge of pain once more, he crept down the hall to the living room like an invalid, breathing an audible sigh of relief once he reached the soft sofa. It was the one good thing in their home, or at least it seemed so when he was in such a dark and painful mood. All for good reason, of course.
Relaxing he let his body fall heavily forward, tipping down onto the sofa as if he had become a pivot. His arms came up beneath his chest to break his fall and he moaned into the plush seat cushions, squirming noisily to make himself quite comfortable. It was no surprise, however, that his nest-making was noticed by the only other dragon in the house.
Appearing in the doorway to the kitchen with a glass of rum and coke clasped in each paw respectively, his roommate raised an eyebrow. He turned his muzzle from her and growled into the cushion. Maybe it had been silly to expect peace in a common area of their shared home – rented, of course – but it was too late to move to any other location and he planted his face into the cushion as if he hoped that would be enough to get her to go well enough away.
Not so likely. The dragoness with white scales and a grey slice extending down her front and belly – he’d seen it many times when she was wearing a cropped top and shorts herself – looked far too put together for his liking. He could imagine just how perfectly her tail swished, blue mane flicking from one side of her shoulders to the other, as she paced quietly across the plush carpet, each step barely, but noticeably, audible.
Her prod to his shoulder was more sisterly than friendly and Ernesto swallowed a snarl as he shrugged her off, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth as if he had suddenly become an aggravated feline.
“What’s got you so wound up today, Mr tall, dark and handsome?”
Ernesto grimaced.
“I have black scales, get over it.”
Raising an eyebrow, Christa made no comment but to press one of the glasses into his paw.
“I think you may need this more than I do.”
He took the glass without comment, wriggling his shoulder and arms half-off the sofa so that he could drink. It was not the most comfortable position from which to drink, but it was the only one he felt capable of getting into at that moment. Christa clucked her tongue sympathetically against the roof of her mouth and ran her paws over his shoulders. Without thinking, Ernesto leaned into them, fingers easing along lines of muscle, scales still damp from the shower.
“So, what’s got you so worked up today, if you can tell me?”
Ernesto grimaced and took a long gulp of his drink as her fingers bore into the muscles at the base of his neck, seeking out the tension there. The drake’s tail twitched and he groaned.
“Mmm… Just the usual. Thought it was a standard job, but I got stuck lifting boxes again in fucking armour plating, shoving crates about. Bad enough without wearing all that gear. Don’t think the guy even used me once as a bodyguard today, stupid factory tour…”
Christa’s fingers worked, teasing out the tension from the hard line of muscle.
“I’m glad I don’t get sent on jobs like that anymore,” she said, her tone commiserating. “They look at me and still think that I can’t do shit like that because I’ve got tits. It’s good and bad, but different work. They shouldn’t have you doing crap like that.”
Ernesto groaned, nodding his agreement as he arched his back into her touch. It was rare that his roommate would be so kind as to give him any kind of massage, but she simply had a way with her paws that seemed able to liquefy his muscles in mere moments alone. Panting softly, he struggled to contain himself, gulping down half his drink in one go as the heat of her body warmed up his scales.
“Still get paid the same… Still crap…”
“Very crap.”
“Very.”
It was hard to talk when the dragoness was working him over so wonderfully, fingers easing slowly, patiently down his back so that no scale was left without a caress, a massage to soothe away the stress of the day. Ernesto’s fingers tightened on the warming glass, tail twitching back and forth as her fingers pressed down on either side of his spine, bones cracking lightly as the air pockets were released.
“Ah, fuck…” He moaned. “Chris, you don’t realise…”
She chuckled, understanding even without her friend being able to complete the full sentence. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together as roommates, that innate understanding of one another and just how they worked. Perhaps it even allowed the intimate caresses of one another too, though they had taken care to keep that side of their relationship close to home. It was better than being friends with benefits and far more than that too, but it was the kind of relationship that one would have struggled to put into words.
So it stayed between them, just the two of them.
The base of his back held the most tension and she leaned into it, grunting with the effort it took to release there. And then she was at his tail, smoothing the flat of her paws along the length as she wriggled back and hefted it up and over her shoulder, out of the way for what was to come next. For there was one thing above all else that got Ernesto to relax and, well, there was no sense in holding back with a good friend now, was there?
The dragoness hummed to herself as she drummed her fingers around the thickest part of his tail, releasing tension as she massaged each and every scale with individual care. But that was not what Ernesto would like the most – no. Her fingers crept ever closer to his tail hole as she flicked the loose strap on the back of his shorts out of the way. Christa smiled. It was almost as if he had known he’d be getting a massage off her, making it all the simpler to slip his shorts down to reveal the key point.
“Easy there…”
Christa murmured to him as she worked every inch of his body, massaging around the base of his tail as she pushed his shorts lower and lower, working them down his thighs. It was nothing that she hadn’t seen before, but it was in more of a sibling-like way than that of a potential lover that her brow furrowed in concentration, thumbs easing in to work around the drake’s tail hole. Ernesto shuddered and groaned, slumping into the cushions as she found the tight ring of muscle and worked on releasing even that bit of tension from his body, thankfully fresh and clean from his shower. The drake chuffed a half-laugh, though it was hardly one of amusement. He doubted she would have been quite so generous if he’d still been rank with sweat and grime from the work day, but it was all appreciated nonetheless.
“Ah… Chris, your paws… Amazing…”
He groaned and rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, tongue lolling out as her fingers even dipped into his tail hole. It should have been far too familiar for dragons such as themselves – hell, they were normal roommates and not in a cheesy movie or anything of that seedy nature! – but neither of them thought too much about what they were doing and experiencing, Christa playing with different strokes and caresses that really made the drake melt in her paws. It was all in the name of relaxation and the release of tension was the name of the game above all else.
He would have done the same for her too, after all.
Pressing her knuckles into his buttocks, Christa hissed sympathetically at the drake’s whimper, using increasing pressure to get at the tension. It took every bit of massage knowledge she had, and most of that had just come from practice, to get that bit to relax and yet she managed it still. With a fair side of patience and determination too, that was.
“Roll over, let me get that chest. I bet you’ve not been lifting with proper form with how tight your back was!”
Reluctantly, Ernesto wriggled and set his rum aside – not before chugging the rest, however – letting his tail hang over the edge of the seat cushions as he settled himself far more comfortably onto his back. Shorts tangled around his thighs, but neither of them bothered to tug them aside: they wouldn’t get in the way.
“You got a better job coming up, hon?” The dragoness murmured, prompting conversation as she worked.
Ernesto sighed, settling himself more comfortably so that his shoulder blades were not pressing into the gap between the cushions. Knowing without speaking again, Christa slipped a small cushion back behind his head with a giggle and a wicked little twinkle in her eye.
“And you said the scatter cushions were stupid…”
He grimaced, shivering as she worked on the outside edges of his pecs, fingers dancing sensually in to the centre.
“They still are. I hope it’ll be different tomorrow. New place, so can only hope, ohhh…”
Ernesto trailed off, eyes half-lidded as she worked on his stomach, abdominals tensing in anticipation of just where her paws were going, his chest was not too bad, in all honesty, but the tension around his hips, strained from forcing him to balance was another thing entirely. And there was only one natural place for her paws to go after that, circling and massaging the base of his sheath with luxurious attention.
Head rolling back, the drake exhaled slowly, slumping into the cushions as if that sigh had been the turning point for him. It was not sexual, but her rubbing and ministrations soon brought a rise to his maleness, a pole of dragon-flesh jutting out half-hard from his sheath. Christa rolled her eyes and tutted, murmuring something about drakes always being so quick to get excited when they were just having a good massage, but obliged him anyway. The drake didn’t get hard unless he was in the mood for it, after all, and it was just another perk to being of draconian heritage. Nothing for good friends to be concerned or embarrassed about in the slightest.
Teasing her fingertips up and down his half-hard rod, she curled her tail around his, entwining it in an embrace that was more intimate than a hug for dragons and other creatures with prehensile tails. Her tail squeezed and undulated, using the flexible coils to massage the full length of it as he became putty in her paws. Leaving his shaft, she rubbed his sheath and balls in slow, soothing circles, letting the orbs weigh heavy on her fingers before allowing them release from her tantalisingly soft touch. Ernesto shivered, a curl of smoke flickering from just the one nostril as his hind paws twitched, toes curling reflexively.
Christa grinned. Ah, she’d forgotten about those! There was nothing more relaxing, after all, than a good paw massage. Working her way slowly down his thighs, she took her time about easing him into the ultimate state of relaxation, her mind intent on her job, the task at hand. It was the least she could do for him, after all. His thighs loosened slowly, the biggest muscles, but his calves came more easily, the dragoness using her tail to lift his legs so that she could more easily work her magic on them.
But the paws would be the final touch. Taking them one at a time, Christa teased her fingers between every toe, stretching them out and encouraging them to flex as she worked her knuckles softly into the pads. It didn’t take much with hind paws, particularly when a fur had been on them all day long, and the drake was soon whimpering like a hatchling in her hold, though not pulling away by any means. On the contrary – he pushed into her touch and wriggled his toes for more, the short claws on the end grazing over the scales on the back sides of her paws.
“Now, now, don’t scratch me…”
He grunted and shook his head, tongue hanging out the side of his muzzle as she ran her fingers over the arch of his feet.
“Mmmph… I know, sorry…”
But he wasn’t really sorry and they both knew it, even if the play between them of saying it was important too. Chuckling lightly, Christa shook her head and tickled his hip with the very tip of her tail, teasing the drake even as she drew the very last drops of tension from his body. The undersides of his paws flexed and released in her fingers and she smiled to herself as she let them go, layering feather-light strokes back up Ernesto’s legs as she travelled higher and higher up his body, sparing a moment to rub his sheath too. His dragonhood had all but retreated back into the leathery fold of skin that was not quite fully scaled and more sensitive to the touch than the hard scales on the rest of his body, just the tip showing as she ran her fingers all the way up to his collarbone.
And then his arms were around her, the drake demonstrating just why he was always asked to undertake the heavy lifting jobs as he hauled her easily up on top of him. Christa squealed, but it was only surprise mingled with laughter as she wriggled herself into position with her legs on either side of his. The drake cheekily bopped her on the nose and she huffed and rolled her eyes, ever theatrical in her reactions. She wouldn’t be Christa otherwise.
“Feeling better?” Christa giggled, tail flicking lazily – just the tip though. “You always did like a massage.”
Nuzzling her neck, Ernesto sighed and smiled, lips spread dopily wide as he tightened his arms around her waist, her T-shirt crumpling up between their stomachs.
“What would I do without a roommate like you?”
The dragoness smirked and tapped the side of her muzzle, mischief glinting in the back of her eyes.
“Probably have a lot less scatter cushions!”
She probably should have seen the one that smacked her in the face coming.
Worth it.