I keep up with him as we make our laborious way through the mire. He adjusts his speed after mine, as usual. I’m grateful for that. And for a whole bunch of other things he’s done.
It’s actually not all that unpleasant, walking behind him and seeing the muscles flex in his whole blue body with each step, the yellow stripes almost having an inner glow. His narrow hips, the straining of the fabric around his thighs, the outline of the scales… he’s spectacular. Where the other dragons I’ve seen have spikes and such down their backs, Caronerax doesn’t. His spine is smooth and strong, two hard bundles of muscle. He’s unusual by being more ordinary. Not a bad trick to pull off.
I can’t get his cock out of my mind. I saw it in my dreams, disguised as fence posts and metal rods and wires that I wanted to ride.
What would it be like? If Mia and Eleanor can survive it, then probably I can, too. And even if I don’t, maybe it would be worth it— “Oooahhh!”
I take a step, and my foot meets no resistance, like plunging into water. I fall headlong into the mud that’s suddenly gone liquid and sink into it, fast.
For a long moment I fight it, the mud much heavier than water and impossible to swim in. There’s no bottom to it. I panic as I keep sinking fast.
“Caron—” I begin, but mud fills my mouth before I can continue.
A strong hand grabs my wrist and pulls me all the way up. I can’t see with all the mud in my eyes, but I gasp for air as the earthy taste of the dirt fills my mouth.
Caronerax lifts me up into his arms and wipes my face. “Hmm. The ground is treacherous. I think it’s only a thin layer of semi-firm matter above a much looser substance.”
“I—” I splutter, then almost choke on mud and spend a good while spitting and coughing and fishing tiny particles of mud and sand out of my mouth.
The dragon patiently holds me like that until I’ve cleaned my face as well as possible under these circumstances. The mud drips from my dress and my body.
I want to cry from the terror and the whole situation and the thought of having to continue walking like that, when the ground threatens to swallow me at any time.
“I think,” I finally manage, “I could feel something moving down there. Against my legs.”
“There is lots of movement in the depths,” Caronerax confirms. “Lots of life here that can’t be seen.”
“You feel it, too?”
“The swamp is always in movement. See the island we’re making for? It is lower now. It bobs slowly up and down.”
“Then it’s not just me. Looks like it floats. Okay, you can put me down now. I’ll try to go on.”
Caronerax doesn’t put me down. Instead, he runs his gaze along my whole body, from toes to head. “I think we can do better.”
He turns me around as easily as if I were a Barbie doll being played with by a four-year-old, lays me over his shoulder, and keeps walking.
And then all I can see is his butt from up close, his thighs, and the ground. “Ooo-kay. This is usually something cavemen do, but I’ll allow it. Not that I think I have a say.”
Caronerax stops. “Did you say something?”
“I said, you have a cute butt,” I mutter.
“I can’t hear you.”
We slowly sink into the mud.
“Keep walking! Please.”
With his splayed feet, he still only sinks an inch or two in, and he doesn’t seem to have any issues with the mud turning to liquid under him. If he suddenly does, I fear we’re both dead. We already established that he’s not one of nature’s swimmers.
My face is hit with cold droplets of mud and water as the dragon splashes through the mire, and while this is relaxing enough, there’s no chance I can fall asleep.
I can do some thinking, though.
The air is getting warmer, it seems to me. Of course, that could be a coincidence — today is simply warmer. Or it could have something to do with the swamp. But it could also be that we’ve been gradually walking down the gentle slope from some kind of a plateau. If so, the cold was because it was much higher up than the jungle. It’s one possibility, anyway.
I think a good number of other things, too. Such as:
- His butt is perfectly round, even when seen from slightly