When Eragon's instinct finally overcomes restraint, Saphira no longer waits for permission. Her Rider becomes her mate in mind, body, and soul.
Chapter 1 The Desert's Heat
The Hadarac Desert offered no refuge. It stretched endlessly in every direction, a sea of shimmering dunes beneath a sky bleached of color. The wind blew hot and dry, stinging Eragon's skin and filling his mouth with grit. His lips had cracked days ago. The blisters on his feet had already burst and hardened.
Saphira moved beside him, her claws sinking into the sand with each slow step. Her wings hung limp at her sides, too weary to lift. Arya lay draped across her back, her breathing shallow, her body still gripped by the poison that coursed through her blood. Murtagh scouted the ridges, returning only to share what little water they had found or to remind Eragon to rest. He rarely spoke unless necessary. There was no room for words in this place.
Brom was gone.
Eragon had buried him with his own hands beneath a cairn of stone and silence. The old man's death still echoed inside him, a wound deeper than the cut Durza had carved into his flesh. He had lost his teacher. His guide. And now, without warning, something else was slipping away.
Saphira had grown quiet.
It was not a silence of words or distance. It came from within the bond they shared, in the subtle shift of thought and presence. At first, Eragon had dismissed it as exhaustion. They were all stretched thin, and she bore the weight of Arya, the merciless heat, and the burden of constant vigilance.
But it persisted. When he reached for her mind, he no longer felt her clearly. Her thoughts no longer wrapped around his with the same rhythm. There were no sharp emotions, no sudden walls. Just a soft veil. A kind of quiet resistance. When she replied to him, her words were distant, her tone unreadable.
She had begun sleeping away from the camp, just beyond the circle of light and sound, beyond the ring of packed-down sand where the others lay. She simply rose each night and walked, wings shifting in the dark, until she found solitude.
Eragon woke once, deep in the night. The desert, so blistering by day, had turned cruel in its cold. The campfire had thinned into a bed of coals, dim and pulsing beneath a crust of white ash. A few dying embers cracked faintly, giving no warmth. Murtagh was not there. He had gone out into the dunes hours ago, searching for water or anything that might pass for food. Arya, pale and curled under her cloak, shifted once but did not wake. Her breath was shallow.
Eragon turned his head. Saphira was gone.
He sat up slowly, instinct prickling. A soft and insistent pull, like a thread tugged tight through the bond. He looked beyond the campsite and found her.
She was crouched atop a dune, her body silhouetted against the stars, wings drawn tight to her back. The moonlight outlined her curves, the slope of her spine, the heavy tension in her hindquarters. She was still at first. Watching the sky. But there was movement.
Her tail was curled beneath her body.
Eragon froze, breath caught in his throat. She was low to the ground, legs braced wide, hips angled. The base of her tail rocked forward, then back again, the motion slow, deliberate. Her scales shifted with each movement, flexing faintly. The silver light caught the parted slit beneath her tail, her draconic cunt exposed with wet arousal. Slickness clung to the edges, dripping in threads to the sand below.
She was pleasuring herself.
The tip of her tail pressed upward, meeting her folds. She rolled her hips gently as it slid along her entrance, coating itself in her slick before pushing inside. Eragon watched as her body took it in, the muscles clenching around it, holding firm. Her claws raked softly at the sand. She exhaled through her nostrils, breath shallow, wings twitching faintly as she began again.
Her rhythm was steady. She was guiding herself toward release with precision. Her tail slid in and out in long, gliding thrusts. Each time, it went a little deeper, curved to meet the sensitive walls inside her. She shuddered as she worked herself open. Her head bowed. Her eyes were half-closed.
He reached for her mind. She didn't block him, not fully. But what met him were her instincts burned just beneath the surface, heavy and biological, and laced with restraint. She was holding herself back from moaning. Trying not to wake others and ashamed of what she felt.
But sensation bled through.
Eragon felt the thick friction of her vent around her tail. The rush of need behind every motion. The fluttering tension was building slowly, stroke after stroke. Her control was staggering. She kept her pace even, deliberate. And yet her body trembled.
Her thrusts deepened. She pushed harder, her hips rising and pressing down in waves. Her folds stretched around her tail, dripping onto the sand. Her breath came faster now, snorting softly through her nose, the only sound she allowed herself.
And then she stilled.
Her tail remained buried. Every muscle in her body locked. Her wings tightened. Her claws bit into the dune. Her vent clamped down around her tail in sharp, pulsing contractions. She came in silence. Her whole body bucked, not violently, but in ripples. One wave. Then another. Her vent pulsed around her tail, convulsing with slow, gripping spasms that pushed more of her slickness onto the sand. Just a quake that moved through her like a tide, curling from her spine to her legs.
A low, ragged sound escaped her nostrils. Just breath, thick with pleasure.
Her release soaked her thighs and the base of her tail. When she finally moved, it was slow. She let her tail slide free, glistening with slick, and lay it back against the sand. A thin trail of fluid followed. Her folds remained parted, soft and wet, twitching with aftershocks. She lowered her body, breathing shallow, her strength momentarily spent.
Eragon had not moved.
He couldn't. He had seen all of it. Felt it through her, even with the walls she had tried to raise. He hadn't meant to witness the act. But now it was part of him. His chest ached. His skin burned. His cock strained in silence beneath his tunic. But he could not bring himself to touch himself. Watching her, doing that, would have felt obscenely wrong.
He lay back slowly, closed his eyes. His breath came rough. His heart thundered behind his ribs.
She was in heat, and she had not wanted him to see.
But he had.
He should have looked away. He should have closed his eyes, buried his face in the crook of his arm, anything but this. But their bond wrapped around him, not in lust, but in a need for help. And now, part of him feared he had witnessed something he was never meant to see.
He tried to calm himself and the ache between his legs that refused to be ignored. His cock pressed hard against his thighs now. He shifted in place, hoping the cool air might help, but it only made him more aware of the friction.
It was a curse of timing. He felt alone in the desert, in the dark, with a dragon in heat.
And the bond had changed. Whatever wall had once separated their thoughts had thinned to the point of transparency which could spill over at any moment.
Then something glowed inside his pack.
A faint silver light, soft and pulsing, filtered through the seams like moonlight caught in deep water. He blinked, heart pounding, and reached for it. His fingers moved past the familiar shape of old leather, cloth, and cracked bread until they found the vial.
It pulsed with warmth when he touched it. His hand closed around it, and memory surged.
They had camped a few nights before Gil'ead, deep in a pocket of damp forest where the ground smelled of moss and old leaves.
The fire had burned low, and Saphira was asleep, her breath rising in slow, steady gusts. Brom had waited until they were alone. Then, without explanation, he reached into his cloak and pressed the vial into Eragon's hand.
"There may come a time when your bond with Saphira grows into something… deeper than either of you understand," Brom had said, voice grave and low. "If that day ever comes, if words or spells fail drink this. But not before. You will know when the time is right."
No explanation on the content of potions. And a look that held both warning and permission.
Now, in the silence of the dunes, the vial throbbed like a second heartbeat in his palm. He couldn't tell if it was his or hers or both.
He pulled the stopper and drank.
The potion slid down his throat like hot air, smooth, hot, and terrifyingly fast. It hit his chest and scattered outward like fire chasing veins. His limbs locked. His skin flushed. His cock twitched violently beneath the fabric, swelling with sudden, maddening urgency.
And then the bond exploded open.
It was not Saphira's thoughts that poured in.
It was his.
The tight ache in his balls. The heat burning beneath his skin. His cock, fully hard, soaked with precum where it stuck to the inside of his tunic. The pulse in his shaft every time he pictured her folds parting. Her breath when she climaxed. The way her vent had clenched as slick leaked onto the sand. The image of burying himself inside her, dragging her open around his cock, stretching her wet and tight until she locked down and milked him for everything he had.
He hadn't meant to send it. But the potion had torn the bond wide open.
Saphira jolted.
Not her body but her mind. A sharp mental shudder as the shock of his arousal hit her head-on. She stiffened in place. He felt her recoil, not in revulsion but confusion. Her mind reeled. Then stopped and inhaled.
She smelled it. Her nostrils flared once. Then again.
His male scent thick with heat. Potent and spiked by potion magic. It was clinging to him now, rolling off his body, soaked through his clothes. She smelled his precum and his intent.
Then his memories hit her.
She saw what he saw. Herself on the dune, tail buried between her legs, folds parted, slick dripping onto the sand. The way her vent had fluttered before she came. The look on his face when he watched her. The twitch of his cock beneath the tunic. The follow up guilt, his restraint and the current lust.
He froze. He felt her see it all.
Her mind reached for his, not with rejection, not with shame.
And then something in her shifted. She looked at him. Her eyes glowed in the moonlight, pupils wide and ringed in silver. Slowly, she lifted her head, her wings tucking close to her sides. She stared without blinking, holding his gaze.
She did not speak. But the bond vibrated with recognition, with mirrored need. Her own arousal answered his like an echo. He could feel the slickness between her thighs, the heat at the center of her, the way her muscles clenched in slow pulses beneath her scales, preparing to receive.
He rose to his feet. His tunic brushed his cock and made him groan softly. He rose, fabric clinging to the wet head of his cock. The friction made him groan softly. The potion kept him hard, the pressure unbearable. But he didn't hide it. She had felt it already. There was no point in shame.
He walked toward her.
Each step felt heavy, grounding, inevitable. Her breath deepened. Her tail curled faintly across the sand. Her wings tightened. She shifted toward him, slowly, her eyes never leaving his.
When he stood before her, she leaned in.
Her snout brushed his chest. Then slid to his collarbone. Then to his neck. Her breath was hot, humid, steady. She nudged his shoulder and lingered there, scales rough against the thin fabric, her body warm as a forge.
Her heart beat with his.
No words passed between them. But through the bond came a low, coiling tremble of need so deep it made his spine stiffen.
Then she shifted again.
She lowered herself to the sand with careful, deliberate control. Her forelimbs tucked beneath her. Her wings folded tight. Her tail slid to the side in a graceful arc, but this time she did not stop there.
Her spine twisted slightly. Her body rolled as she lay back on the curve of her haunches, her belly exposed to the night air. Her hind legs shifted apart. The plates beneath her tail flexed open.
Eragon's breath caught.
Her cunt was on full display, glistening and flushed. The folds, still wet from before, twitched with subtle rhythm, open and waiting. A trail of fresh slick clung to the edge of her vent and dripped slowly to the sand beneath her. The scent of it hit him hard.
She was offering herself. He stepped forward, body flushed and aching. His hands moved without thought, pulling his tunic up and over his head. His cock sprang free, flushed red and soaked with precum, the air making it twitch painfully. It ached now, not just with arousal, but with need so sharp it hurt. The potion hadn't just kept him hard. It was amplifying his size, the weight of his balls, the pressure building deep inside him.
Saphira tilted her head back slightly and let out a low rumble, no word required, just an invitation to be impregnated.
He dropped to his knees between her hind legs.
His hands settled on her thighs, firm and smooth beneath the scales. His mouth hovered over her vent. The heat of body pulsed against his face. Her scent was overpowering, sweet and musky, slick and almost dizzying.
He leaned in and dragged his tongue across her folds.
She twitched beneath him. A soft shiver passed through her entire frame. Her vent clenched slightly. More slick welled up and coated his lips. It tasted faintly metallic, faintly sweet, full of some magical heat that made his cock twitch violently.
He licked her again, slower this time, letting his tongue press deep into the parted folds. Her juices spilled freely, and he drank them in, groaning against her cunt as the potion flared inside him in answer.
His cock throbbed painfully.
The heat of her slick was working through his system. It wasn't just arousing him in a feral heat. His shaft thickened further. His balls drew up. He could feel the next orgasm coming even though he hadn't touched himself.
Her tail rose and slid beneath him, curling up between his legs. Its smooth underside lifted his cock gently, coiling around the base and dragging upward with slow, teasing pressure. He moaned into her cunt, grinding against the warm length of her tail as he licked her harder, faster.
He thrust onto her tail.
The pleasure hit fast. His cock pulsed hard once, then again, and he couldn't hold back. He groaned into her folds, mouth flooded with her taste, as his cock jerked violently. Hot ropes of cum spilled across her tail, thick and heavy, soaking the smooth blue surface in bursts of white.
She felt the hot cum shots hitting her tails.
Hot, glowing trails marked her tail, thick and white against the gleam of her scales.
She let him hump her tail, drawing the last of his release from him with gentle strength.
Then she moved again, slow and deliberate. Her body shifted. Her gaze dropped to where the warmth clung to her. She brought her tail infront of her snout, eyes half-lidded.
Her tongue flicked out, slow and tasting, tracing the slick along her own scales.
The taste made her rumble deep in her chest. She licked again, slower this time. The bond swelled between them.
She wanted more. He looked down at his cock.
It hadn't softened. If anything, it had grown. His shaft throbbed with renewed power, longer and thicker than before, veins bulging, skin flushed dark and tight.
He rose to his feet, chest heaving. Her cunt glistened beneath him, twitching, folds parting wider in anticipation.
He stepped closer.
And with one hand guiding himself, he pressed the swollen head of his cock to her wet entrance. She let out a low, tremulous sound.
Her vent opened for him, hot and slick, folds parting eagerly as the swollen head of his cock pressed forward. The entrance clenched around him at once, gripping with molten heat that pulsed and twitched in welcome.
The crown slipped past her folds with effort, her body tight despite the arousal dripping from her. He groaned low, breath catching in his throat as her vent pulled at him, the muscles inside flexing to draw him deeper. The soft lips of her vent clung to his shaft, hugging it inch by inch, slickening his length with fresh wetness.
She was massive, powerful, and yet her body opened for him as if it had always known him. Her inner walls clung to every inch he gave, spasming softly with each slow push forward. The tight channel inside her rippled in rhythmic contractions, stroking his cock as he slid deeper.
Her scent filled his nose, thick with heat and arousal, sharp with the traces of his cum still wet along her scales. She had licked herself clean, but now her vent soaked with fresh desire, and the magic in the air stirred again as if awakened by their union.
Eragon leaned into the pressure, guiding himself deeper. Her body welcomed him inch by inch, folds stretching around the thick length of his cock. The sensation was unbearable, searing and wet, tight enough to make his spine arch.
Her vent gripped him like molten velvet, each ridge inside her dragging along his shaft with wet, sucking pressure. His shaft pulsed inside her, harder than it had ever been, kept swollen and insistent by the potion coursing through his blood. His veins bulged with it, the ache almost painful in its fullness.
Saphira moaned beneath him. It was a guttural sound, her wings twitching open before folding tightly again. Her tail curled up and around his leg, not to pull him closer, but to anchor herself to him, as if afraid he might stop.
Her claws raked the sand. Her hips pushed back, taking more of him. The motion ground her folds against his pelvis, smearing him with her slick, grinding her inner ridges along the root of his cock.
Her thoughts came in broken waves, and he felt each one like a hot breath against his skin. The bond between them flared, open and unguarded, flooding him with her sensations. Every throb of her vent echoed through their connection, and every inch of his cock was mirrored in her mind, blazing with pleasure.
He felt her pleasure cresting with every push. His own thoughts came tangled, clouded with lust, but she caught them just as clearly. She felt how close he already was. How hard it was to hold back. She welcomed it.
He thrust deeper. The base of his cock pressed to the soft lips of her entrance, and she cried out with a noise that shook her chest. Her vent squeezed him, slick and strong, and when he pulled back, strands of wetness clung to his shaft like silk.
The stretch of her folds caught at his ridge before he pushed forward again, forcing her open, driving himself to the hilt. He drove forward again, hips snapping, and the slap of their bodies joined the wet grind of their breath.
They found rhythm quickly. There was no room for restraint now. His hips moved with brutal need, slamming into her. Her cunt squelched around him, wet and obscene, swallowing his length again and again as her body writhed beneath him. She met each thrust with equal force, snarling softly through clenched teeth, her folds stretched wide around the thick length buried in her.
The swollen lips of her vent slapped wetly against his groin, cum already leaking from her, coating his balls.
Eragon's body sang with tension. Her body milked him, tight enough that every thrust dragged another groan from his chest. Her walls gripped him in trembling surges, desperate to hold him longer than any breath. Each time he pulled back, the drag of her wet heat along his shaft made his legs tremble.
Her heat soaked his groin, dripping to the sand beneath them. His thighs were wet with her, soaked with the mixture of their bodies. He smelled the musk of her need, sharp and raw, and tasted the echo of her voice in his thoughts.
He answered her with his body.
He gripped her hips and pounded forward, hips slapping wetly against her scaled haunches. Each thrust forced a wet squelch from her vent and another growl from her throat. Every movement made her leak around him, hot and thick, until their bodies were slick with it. Each wet impact scattered the silence, loud and obscene in the quiet dunes
The heat built fast, sweat sliding down his back, muscles straining to keep up with the force her body demanded. She rocked beneath him, scales twitching with every collision, wings spread wide in the sand. Her back arched with every deep stroke, forcing her vent to clench tighter, milking him.
The bond burned now. Their thoughts twisted together, inseparable. She was close. He felt it like a tide rising around them, her vent spasming, her core tightening with that unbearable fullness. Her walls convulsed with each thrust, trying to keep him inside, trying to make him stay. His cock throbbed with it, swollen and angry, ready to burst.
But he didn't let go. He stayed buried deep, driving her higher, determined to feel her fall before he allowed himself release.
Saphira bucked hard beneath him, wings flaring once more, dragging deep furrows in the sand. Her vent seized around him, muscles locking in a deep, rolling pulse. She was right on the edge. The pressure built in her belly, a pulsing knot of molten pleasure, and she let it rise without fear. She gave herself to it, to him, to the bond that held them together.
Her cry came without warning.
It started deep in her chest and tore free in a ragged, guttural roar. Her entire body seized. Her vent convulsed violently around his cock, gripping him in tight, rapid spasms. Slick heat poured from her, soaking his groin and thighs. She came in a flood, her inner muscles milking him with each wave, squeezing as if to wring his seed from him.
The feedback hit Eragon like lightning.
He thrust deep, harder than before, and the thick crown of his cock slammed against the very end of her passage. The impact drove a sharp cry from her throat as the tip struck her womb. The sensation split her open inside, a raw jolt of heat that shattered the tension she had been holding back.
She came with a full-cunt spasm.
Her vent clamped down around him with brutal force, inner walls locking tight, pulling at him as her wings snapped wide. Her cunt milked him in rapid pulses, muscles fluttering in tight waves, and the pulse of her climax hit him through the bond like a hammer blow. It wasn't just sensation. It was need, bursting free and dragging his dick into her deepest place, urging him to breed her womb.
His own control broke instantly.
He drove forward one last time, hips jerking, cock sinking as deep as her body would allow. The swollen head kissed her womb again, and he stayed there, buried to the root, locked inside her trembling heat.
He came with a choked groan, face pressed to her back, every muscle in his body clenched. His balls drew up tight, and then thick, scalding cum flooded from him in heavy, aching bursts. The first shot blasted straight into her womb, and she moaned aloud, her folds fluttering as they swallowed him down. More followed, no pause between pulses, each spurt thick and hot, coating the deepest part of her.
Her body drank it in.
She twitched with every release, her cunt reflexively milking him, her vent rippling in desperate waves as if to pull every drop deeper. The pressure in her belly built fast, the warmth pooling in her core, and she whimpered again as she felt it settle in her. His cock throbbed without stopping, still stiff, still pulsing, as the potion twisted the moment higher, forcing him to keep spilling inside her long after the first rush had passed.
She kept milking him, and each clench forced more from him. His body obeyed her completely, emptied by her heat.
The warmth in her belly grew dense and heavy, thick with his seed. Her entrance overflowed, cum leaking around the seal of his cock, but he didn't move. He stayed hilted, still buried, still emptying himself inside her.
She groaned, voice low and thick with delight.
Her thoughts cracked, broken by another pulse of his seed flooding her. His hands tightened on her flanks. His vision blurred. She clenched again, harder this time, and his back arched. Another rush spilled into her, thick and hot. Her belly began to swell gently beneath her scales, not from pressure alone, but from sheer volume of seed in her womb.
Her vent leaked around the seal of his cock, fluid running down her thighs, steaming where it hit the cool sand. Her folds twitched in aftershocks, still fluttering, still wet, still hungry. She whimpered softly as he shuddered above her, cock finally softening, though still nestled deep inside.
His arms trembled. His chest heaved.
She exhaled a long, shuddering breath.
And still, they did not move.
Their bond vibrated like the last note of a song, stretched and trembling. In that quiet, a pulse of magic surged between them, slow and warm. It wasn't violent. It wasn't chaotic. It was claiming. Her body glowed faintly where they were joined, the light sinking into her skin, then into his.
Her vent twitched again, softer this time. Cum still leaked from her, slow and heavy. It trailed down her thighs, soaking into the sand beneath them in thick rivulets.
Eragon didn't speak. He simply stayed there, body draped over hers, cock still inside her, chest rising and falling against her back.
The bond throbbed again, slow and steady.
Eragon's breath dragged rough through his lungs. Sweat clung to his skin, glistening in the moonlight. His chest lay pressed against her back, rising and falling in rhythm with the slow, unsteady thrum of her heart. His cock had softened, but her vent still held him, her folds clinging loosely to the length buried inside. Warmth radiated from her body in steady waves, a living hearth beneath him.
Saphira's breathing was deeper now. Not strained, but full. Her eyes were closed, her wings tucked in, her tail coiled in a wide, slow arc around his thigh. She could have moved. She didn't. Her vent still twitched around him every so often, coaxing the last aftershocks of sensation from his body. The sand beneath her hips was soaked with the mingled remains of their rut, his seed, her juices, still leaking in slow trails from the lips of her vent.
Eragon didn't answer with words. He didn't have the breath, and even if he had, no sentence could have reached her the way that one truth had. The bond between them shimmered in his mind, no longer a line but a current. Deeper. Wider. Thick with sensation, memory, magic. Her pleasure still echoed faintly along the edge of his thoughts, and she could feel the heavy pull of his exhaustion bleeding into her.
His arms slid around her torso, one cheek resting against her shoulder blade. Her scales were warm and slightly damp beneath his skin. He let his eyes close. Her scent still filled the air—musk and salt, arousal and magic. It clung to his body and coated his cock, slick with the remnants of her desire. She had taken all of him, and more than once. Yet even now, her body seemed reluctant to release him.
He smiled against her back, then let the thought fade. The potion was beginning to ease its grip, and fatigue crept in behind it, deep and grounding. His cock slipped free with a wet noise, strings of fluid clinging between them. The moment he pulled out, her vent gaped wider for a breath, and a thick gush of cum spilled from her, sloshing down in heavy pulses. The sudden flood triggered a reflexive spasm deep inside her. Her hips jerked. Her claws dug into the sand. Her cunt clenched around emptiness, and then her body seized.
She came again.
It was smaller than before, but sharp and involuntary. Her vent twitched in shallow pulses, folds flexing and releasing as more of his seed dripped free. Her body rippled once more with aftershock, tail curling tightly, wings shuddering in a soft, drawn breath. A deep, rasping moan left her throat as her muscles slowly relaxed. Her vent finally began to close, wet and raw, sealing in what she could even as fresh heat leaked onto the sand beneath her.
She shifted not to rise, but to curl around him.
Her tail circled back, draping across his waist like a barrier. Her head dipped low, her snout resting near his feet. Her wing pulled forward slightly, not shielding him, but enclosing him. Holding him in the nest of her body.
He didn't fight it. He let the heat of her surround him. Let the scent of sex and desert and dragon breath lull him downward. His limbs felt heavy. His eyes drifted closed. The bond pulsed one last time, gentle and quiet.
Sleep took them slowly, wrapped in the scent of their union, the heat between them still glowing beneath the surface.
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There are two chapters yet to come. One is Saphira/Eragon, and another is Eragon/Nasuada/Trianna. Both of them are available on p*treon.c*m/OmniNymph, or grab it from my K*-fi shop at k*-fi.c*m/OmniNymph.
Suggest some plot ideas if you have any. If your idea fits the direction of the story, I'll do my best to integrate it.