Dragon Riding - Sex Stories

Dragon Riding

A request featuring Alexstrasza and two goblins from WoW.

***

The Broken Tusk tavern served everyone from orcish grunts to tauren braves, from blood knights to warlocks to thieves and aristocrats, and, tonight, a pair of the dirtiest goblins in Orgrimmar. Perhaps the luckiest, too.

Krib eyed his friend disapprovingly from the other side of the table they were seated at, a fly buzzing obnoxiously about his head. The smell of a nearby elf's flowery perfume mixed with the aroma of hog shanks, roasted quail and sweaty orcs, forming a thoroughly unpleasant scent. It was a hot and humid evening, made even worse by the great flickering fireplace situated near a primitive kitchen where a peon poked at a pig on a spit.

"Haven't you had enough to drink?" he asked.

Neiza slammed her mug down on the table, eyes accusing. "Says who?"

"Says you, remember? You said one drink." He held up a finger. "One."

She tossed back another swig of alcohol and then pursed her lips. "Nope. I need to get smashed to get the juices flowin'."

"Juices? Oh no." He groaned, a growing sense of unease twisting his gut. "Not more of your ideas."

"Please!" she snapped, leaning across the table. "What are you bellyachin' for? It's because of me that you got to do this--" Neiza made a lewd gesture with her mouth and hand. "--with Sylvanas and Tyrande!" An orc from a nearby table looked at her curiously, and her lewd gesture turned into a rude one. "What are you lookin' at, ...

... greenskin?"

Krib made no comment to the fact that her skin was even greener than the orc's. The orc snorted, thankfully more amused than anything else.

"One of these days we're both going to get burned by one of your ideas," he said.

For a moment she looked as if she'd blow her top, but then a queer, foreboding thing happened that scent a chill down his spine: a smile crept its way across her features, toothy, slightly lopsided, and promising misfortune. He didn't like it. Not even a bit.

"Burned! Now that's an idea!" she said, clapping her hands together.

Oh no.

He took a sip of mead, trembling so badly he nearly spilled his drink.

***

"We're going to die."

"You know, you'd think you'd learn to trust me by now," Neiza said, feet stomping loudly on the stone tiles of Wyrmrest Temple's lowest floor.

Neiza had forced--or convinced him, depending on which one you asked--to travel with her to the frozen continent of Northrend and all the way to the very center of its icy wastes. He'd been nervous the entire trip, expecting death to come in the form of either Scourge remnants or winged behemoths, but so far they'd managed to remain unscathed.

For now.

As they made their way through the halls of Wyrmrest, dragons both in and out of their humanoid forms stared down at the two of them as they passed, their ancient eyes curious, suspicious, perhaps even a tad hungry. Walls of ancient stone loomed impossibly high above them, and there didn't seem to be a single thing ...