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"If you ever wifed a dragon," a sage wolf wearing a blue kimono of yellow bands, sitting at a desk, asks Sini, "what would she be like?"

She begins to scribble down onto a roll of parchment with quill-in-paw soon as Sini begins to speak: "She? Well, let me think."

* * *

IF I WIFED A DRAGON...

* * *

If I wifed a dragon, she'd be fierce.

It's a Sunday afternoon and Sini strolls through the woods with a pack of camping gear on his back. The sun of the afternoon sun blazes bright―so much so a bead of sweat rolls down his scaly forehead, then brow, then drips into the soil: soil dry, that has had only this single dragon droplet all day to drink. Dark-brown leather simmers against his back. Were he anything but a dragon he'd've dehydrated. Still, he is thirsty. Pushing through the thick of a thicket into a long clearing along the sides of a stream, he sighs. Before he can dip his snout in, a humanoid scream followed by gunfire―two shots varying in pitch―rings out. His ears stand, alert. A scowl comes across his face, and his leathery membranes beat out; and then, with a crouch and a leap, he's off. In the direction of the shots he goes. Over the woods a thin chimney of smoke rises from a little circlet without trees. Sini descends,

lands in ground cragged and red surrounded by yellow-green trees. Lands next to two tents and a duo of humans with brimmed-hats looking down the "sights" of their muskets at a green scaled dragon. Looking up the sights, more like―and more like scaled dragoness. Her plated neck and underbelly are a sandy tan, and her scales shimmer in all hues from deep-forest to yellow green depending on how the light shines on them. Webbings of orange membranes hide her earholes; leathery orange membranes are her wings, long and flowing still in the breezeless air―flapping like silken cloaks turned on their sides at her sides. A snarl curls up on her upper lip. She bares her teeth, trembles with a silent growl that rolls through steeltoe boots of the men. They look toward one another―catch the other gulping in tandem. Begin backing away. But―oh―with each step, the fire in her orange eyes only blazes more harshly. She dips her head, prowls toward them, sparks escaping between the zig-zags of her jaws and then dancing around her head like Summer pollen. Sini sees now an orange mane, running down her neck, stood up all wicked, and flickering like tongues of flame. Fur like flame ends in a "puff" on the tip of her tail. Mawed, Sini might add, jaws on the tail snapping! jerking the tail any which way they please!

A sparkle in her eyes as she glimpses Sini―Sini gaping at her.

* * *

If I wifed a dragon, she'd be quirky.

The dragoness grins. The humans "make for it". The one on the left with a blonde beard and round spectacles turns, bolts, pushes his hat hard onto his head. The other, curly-black-haired, starts later. One STOMP shakes the earth. Both of them slip up and off their feet with a cry; and onto the cragged ground they go tumbling, shoulder and ribs first. Sini retreats to behind a tent to sigh! Blush! Downstairs he is throbbing. Occasionally he peaks over the edge of the tent to see her prowling. Her beautiful beautiful wings flaming. Her curvy tan horns enough to make him horny. Her―

What the Hell?

Her snout pressed against the hat of the bearded man, sniffing in intensely. SNNNCH. SNNNCH. SNNNNNNNNNCHHH.

(Sini what-the-fucking.)

On the first sniff, the man's hat wiggles a little; the man's long grown sideburns lift up and waggle up in the vacuum current, and then fall when it fades. On the second sniff, the man's hat shoots up into her nostril―a SNORT full of mucus sending it down her nasal passage then down her esophagus (Sini sees her gulp.) On the third sniff―with her claw pressed down on her right nostril―the goddamn man shoots head-first up the left one. She MOANS, rearing then sporadically jerking her neck, the way a dragon does when he / she is trying to swallow someone. A dragon doing a human like a fucking line! Sini thinks. Sini nearly faints. Mr. Curly is too stunned to move. Mr. Curly watches her head twist and turn and twitch―like a surefire crackhead's―while he hears the rapid-fire SHNNK-SHNNK-SHNNK-SHNNK-SHNNK of her snorting in. There's a pop from behind the membranes hiding her earholes. A writhing bulge resembling Mr. Blonde Beard squelches its way down the dragoness throat. All the way, she follows him with massaging paws; makes dramatic orgasmic moans every time he passes beneath a plate. Her fiery wings flap, flap. Hot winds buffet Sini's face. Sini blinks, but doesn't blink too much, lest he miss the bulge of Mr. Blonde Beard fall to her stomach. Swell her stomach out. It does―but the swell is only "curvy".

Not like Sini could hide himself well behind a little manmade tent―but he stands from behind it now. Tiptoes toward her...

...passes by Mr. Curly as she gasps, gasps again, then,

"YAH-CHAOOOOOOOOOO!"

Out from her left nostrils comes flying a rope of snot. It is preceded by an explosion of snout detonating on both Mr. Curly and Sini. The rope itself lassos around Sini's chest specifically―connecting him and her.

Ah! We were meant to be! Sini croons.

Plugging her right nostril, she snorts. The snort jerks the rope of snot right back into her nosehole. Sini is left standing with only dripping remnants of her mucus-rope.

Alas! My heart.... Sini clutches it.

She giggles. Her nasal pasage honks when she giggles. "I'm sorry. You probably think that was really nasty!"

"No!" Sini protests, "no, no.... I mean... that nasal... that nostril-hole is hot."

"Ha-ha-ha what?!"

"Hot―like burns. Like dragonfire. Your nose must burn because―well―I accidentally caught a chicken in my nose once, and I inhaled, and it burned."

Her eyes narrowed as she grinned her slim jagged jaws. One last snnnch whipped a lougie back into her nose. "Arial."

"What?"

"My name."

"What was it?"

"Aiiiiiiir. Reeee. Yulllllll."

"Arial." He nodded. "Sini."

"Sini. You look really gross right now. You need a towel drag'! Hee-hee-hee-hee!"

I need a tissue, Sini thinks. And not because I'm dripping with snot or about to cry.

* * *

If I wifed a dragon, she'd be smart.

Beside him Mr. Curly lies paralyzed, and when Sini tries to move he realizes he's paralyzed as well.

Arial prowls toward him and him with head dipped low. Her almost-prehensile tongue swooshes across her upper lip. "You're pretty defenseless right now. I could swallow you whole if I wanted to. Aw, look, he's struggling."

Sini just stares at her hard. He notices her gaze is fixed on the man squirming underneath the spaghetti-snot trap. How? Sini wonders. It can't be poison; I'm completely immune.

Right, Sini agrees with himself, assessing the yellow-green stuck between his toes and underneath his feet, I'm not paralyzed. He beats his wings. I'm just stuck.

A copper musket lies webbed in mucus beside Mr. Curly who reaches for it, grunting. Arial scowls. A sparkle in her pupils spreads to her irises like wildfire. And Mr. Curly screams―her snout suddenly pressed against his cheek, her upper lip drawn, her canines and gums showing in a grin crooked as the hat halfway off his head. Yellow puffs of smoke sputter out in his face. Hot dragonbreath blowdries his hair backward. Snot, like hairgel, solidifies the new style. Her jaws open up and stinky spittle flies out, landing on his forehead, cheek, neck. Mr. Curly curls his fingers around musket wood. He whips the musket forward, stares down its "sights" point-blank with his other hand stabilizing it.

PETIUUUUU!

Smoke rising up from the musket clouds his vision. Mr. Curly HA-HA-HA-HA-HAs. Foul language he spews―mostly derogatory terms for the draconic―as he aims, fires, aims, fires. Pulling the trigger, one time finally, there is no fire. He rattles his gun. Curses. A gust of dragoness nostrils whips the smoke away in a torrent of wind; and she stands over him grinding her teeth, rising in a growl. Flattened bullets lie sizzling on ground below the trembling dragoness; below her and her terrible eyes, her flaring ear-membranes, and flames chimneying out from her nostrils crackling like firewood thrown into furnaces. In her jaws she snatches him up. She gyrates her head so thrown about the air in a ferris-wheel motion. Him screaming―her with her eyes narrowing, eyes that say, Payback. She throws back her head then swallows. At this point: Sini's feet break free from their snot ensnarement and he comes running forward. Not away from the dragoness―which the Danger, Danger! voice in his head advised him to do―but toward. All giddy he prances about her, smiling, assessing her from every angle―front, side, rear. A wing-assisted leap, then, he's overhead.

"Mmm. Mmmmm," she moans. "Sini, I have something for you sweetie."

Ah! Her virginity! Sini lands bullet-quick and backward in front of her. He braces his knees, stands straight, turns.

"Closer," she says, giggling.

He glimpses her kicking sagging stomach before shyly walking closer. Aaaaaaaah, she says, as her jaws open up and disgusting yellow dragon's breath rolls out.

"Sini! My breath is so bad. Smell my breath!"

Silly or kinky? Either way, Sini inches closer, till his snout enters Arial-maw territory.... The jaws snap shut. Sini feels his wings unfold and spread widely across the clearing as he takes steps back, backs into a tent. Arial steps forward. Red red red is his face. Retreat! says an imaginary Mini Sini fluttering around his right ear. Become her prey, says another on his left. But a soft tune she hums. It sends a disarming tremble through him. It trembles his spine, and he finds himself spineless. He topples onto the tent on his rear―hind legs collapsing beneath him. Arial grabs the back of his head. Her eyelids grow heavy. Any second she'll draw back and we'll kiss, Sini reassures himself. Instead, the grab is a brace for three foul belches back-to-back. "BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRP! BURRRP! BELARRRRRRRRRRCHHH!" Sini is whimpering. Arial slaps her paws down on her stomach. "Ope―here comes a biggie―BELARRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRCHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Sini faints in her jaws.

To herself she giggles. "Poison drags are suckers for that!"

* * *

If I wifed a dragon, she'd be sweet.

Not far from there, at the bottom of the overhang where the Ketsu Stream becomes the small Ketsu Fall, is her lair. She drags Sini by the tail through the woods in a line parallel with the stream twenty yards off. Occasionally wing-beats assist her. Sometimes, instead of stepping backward she hops backward, so with each STOMP the woodlands shake. Squirrels scurry off and out of her wake. She busts down two trees not quite spread out enough to accommodate her. They crackle and twigs and branches snap as they fall. THOOMPH―land, uprooted. She passes through their rows, grunting, dragging the dragon. In his unconsciousness Sini sighs out a happy sigh.

She cocks her head one way. Her eyes speak of unspoken calculations. She nods.

To the right of Ketsu Fall, she vanishes into a sulfur-shaded cavern. Plate and chainmail chestpieces and leggings, spaulders, boots, and wristpieces are sprawled over the floor on the sides of the room. There are straight and curving cross-guarded blades scattered. Some are charred at the hilt. Some have food and dragon saliva stuck to their edges. One pile, the largest pile of the room and in the center of the room, has an indentation in it like she'd been using it as a bed. She falls upon that with a relieving sigh right as she lets go of Sini. Presently Sini opens his eyes, and he sniffs. It's a foul bittsweet smell, this room. Smells like Arial. Arial! His eyes meet hers.

"Thought you'd be a bit more comfortable resting here than anywhere else. Oh? That look in your eyes? An amnesiac? My name is Arial."

Sini stands. "Oh, you're funny." He walks toward her. "I remember who you are and I remember what happened. My face is still jittery from that last belch. Ever consider breath mints?"

"A droplet of water over a dragonfire."

"Come again?"

"Droplet of water over dragonfire. Come on. You never heard that?"

"Did you just make that up?"

"Yes. I made that up especially for you Sini.... Teh-he-he-he!"

"What?"

"No. It's an old saying."

"Oh."

She stands, prowls around Sini. Sini twists and turns as she does. She's eye-level with me, Sini thinks. Gotta stand tall. Look fierce. I can't be thirteen foot-two right now. Gotta be thirteen foot-three. Arial smells the weakness in the other. It's a staler smell compared to the rest that exude from his pores. Whenever Sini circles to avoid her gaze, she is right on him. She circles. Each time his eyes lock on hers―hungry, fiery―they are larger and putting more pressure on him. Chainmail rattles as it is caught on his foot. The ankle of his other foot backs up, touching the wall. A gulp: between two piles of shining armour and before her, Sini is cornered. She turns her back to him. Her tail greets him with open drooling jaws. Some of the orange fur sags down in front of the jaws; the jaws blow it out of their way. Does he duel her here and now to procclaim dominance―give her a good venomous snap? No. Males never duel females; only males males. It is implied that the male is dominant―always! So what―what ever shall he do? Breaking his thought, a sweet waft like nectar―like cotton candy―comes rolling out of the tail-maw's jaws. Rodscald it, is he thirsty!

He drinks. Cautiously at first, but―oh―disarming himself at an alarming rate. Letting his tongue catch globs of nectar pooling up in the bottom of the tail mouth. Letting himself swallow―one hesitant g-g-gulp. A lump descends his throat, Sini's eyes widening. Gold tinges the room, and the room sparkles! Diamond, diamond! Sini you musteth drink more! Sini drink moreth! Ah Sini! Sini ah! Downstairs his meat throbs rhythmically. Before he knows it his whole damned head is down the maw and nectar slobber pours over his neck like syrup.

A predator flavoring its prey with its own saliva? Perhaps....

Sini, shut up.

Perhaps deadly... like venus fly trap.

Sini, maybe.

Maybe poisonous.

Shut up, Sini, you love poison.

Teeth embed themselves in his neck. A jerking motion of the tail sends him jolting forward and past a plump uvula. As taste buds glide over plates on Sini's neck the tail-maw moans, now, and the tail-maw becomes Tail-Maw Falls with a thin curve of drool flooding down. The tail rises, so so does the neck of Sini. The tail jerks, swallows, jerks, swallows. Arial silently moans, clutches bellow her underbelly―at her waist? Meanwhile: Sini meets warm fleshy esophagus. Flexy and smooth it smoothly carries Sini through head-n'-neck-n'-shoulders with little disruption. Squelches are heard further down the tail, which now, Sini realizes, is a very slender tail, and almost as long in length horizontal as he; for, by the time he crosses the boundary between tail and belly, his tail has already slipped through the back-end with a gloooorp of the "tail-gut". Large as she! and sagging it is! Yet somehow she swooshes it to and fro. Tan plates about the bottom of the tail flex to expose green scale beneath, rippling with colours forest to yellow green. Unnghh! Sini pushes his claws into the pressure-point of her ribs! With a gasp she collapses on her gut, rolls onto her side. It's round and swollen and her size. Kicks. Claws. Wing and tail thrashing, and tooth biting. She thanks Mr. Blonde Beard and Mr. Curly for the added fat cushioning the blows. Presently stomach acids rise.

The prey howls.

The prey pleads.

Her prey begs.

"Arial! ARIAL! I got stuck in your tail and it swallowed me. PLEASE―

"LET―ME―OUT!"

"I really enjoy your company and all, buddy! You're kind of cute! You just―you aren't―you're soft!" A tee-hee. "About to get softer too. Sayonara Sini bee!"

Stomach acids are rising fast and heating up. Sini fans his face with his paw; partly it is panic, partly it is heat. He sticks his pointiest claw (the indexer) into her stomach. Tries to, anyway; but the stomach is so smooth his claw practically bounces off. I could get used to this, his submissive bitch voice says softly. You're going to get out of this and fast, says the other, the dominant voice. The one he needs. Things you know about Arial, and quick: She is fierce (mad), quirky (loonie), smart (conniving), sweet (but so is the Golden Fruit). Now that you've assessed her mentally, how about physically? Try: she is green... okay―she's orange, and breathes fire―pretty hot. Sini shakes his head. Shut up submissive voice. I don't need you.

Okay. Things you are that she isn't: black... purple... male.... Things aren't looking well. Ah!

As the stomach acids rise, and climb up over the last of Sini's snout, he begins to glow an aura of violet; the yellow-green stomach acids become a deep sea blue. Scales about Sini begin to simmer; and Sini shuts his eyes, beginning to whimper; but a set of growls rises up and out of the gut, and harsh bubbling sounds are heard; and Arial moans a moan not out of pleasure. Her paws clutch. Gas! Indigestion! Heartburn! Cruel thoughts flash through her mind one after another about what the upset might mean. Devilishly Sini grins.

That deep sea blue grows deeper and darker until it turns harsh―and then violet-blue―and then violet altogether. A queasiness overcomes her gut; the walls of her stomach try to flinch back from Sini, shove Sini, tell Sini, "Begone!" But Sini has already settled and now she is unsettled.

"AHH! Oh, owwie!" Arial cries, squeezing hard at her ribs. She tries patting. She tries rubbing. No avail. "I'm f-f-feeling Siiiiick Sini. I thought you liked me. Thought you had a crush on me.

"You brought it on yourself, girl. Poison dragon as food equals food poisoning, yeah?"

"You don't poison a lady! What a dirty trick!"

"The rose has teeth. Wait for it.... Wait for it."

Sini lunges. His backward fangs sink into her.

"AHHHH! Seenee!"

Deeper.

"OW-HOW-HOW! RUUUUUDE!"

All her piles of knight's armour-and-sword around the room begin to spin in her vision. One thing she's never experienced before―given she's a dragon of fire, and she would admit to, in previous times of thirst, sucking her tail dry of its nectar―is dehydration. Now aches and throbbing and heat wells up in her head. Her mouth hangs open and tongue lolls out, and she "ohhhhhhh"s. Black bags form beneath her eyes fighting to stay open. She thinks she only has the need to belch; so she forces out burp after burp after burp. But on the last "try", the acid taste of gastric juices wells up into her throat―cough, choke, choke―and then it happens so suddenly. "OOOOOOOOOOOOOREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCHHHH... OOORRRCHH..." cough, cough, "OORF. Ohhhhh..."

In a bubbling chunky and liquidy soup of raunchy yellow-green, Sini lay. Sini looks legitly dead. Wake up partna, a dark-skinned bald-headed man, one of his friends who sells barbeque in Bolgunvillea tells him, You still hear me! That means you alive! You breathin'! Another voice, his mother Lynn's, says, Honey. I never get to see you. Come visit soon. She blows a kiss. A third voice, that of his biological father he never met, an assumed black-and-red coloured wyrm, says, Eh, you're good.

"No." Sini jolts upright. He brings his arm back―makes firm his paw―then bitch-slaps his daydream bubble into oblivion.

Sini drips cringe-worthy digestive juices as he watches Arial moan, writhe, and shiver in her own pool of vomit. With her headache it's hard to look too far out to the right in her peripherals; but Sini sees her right iris attempt to lock on him. It rolls into the back of her head. Closing her eyes,

"Sini, I'm thirsty," she croaks.

"Oh, you're thirsty alright," retorts Sin. "Let me guess. Come closer? You just want me to stick a canteen in your mouth?"

"Ohh...."

"Damn right 'ohh'!" With a sassy whip of his head then a huff, Sini made for the door.

Outside he pulls up to the shore of the Ketsu Stream cliffside. Here the stream ends; but the fall flows down from an overhang thirty-so yards up. He wades in. Lets his sticky black scales be washed of their yellow-green ooze, and chunks; lets his jaws open up and his tongue lap at falling water as he stares up; closes his eyes, lets the pound of Ketsu overtake him and his self lose him. White noise calms the chaos of 1,000 voices telling him this and that.

When Sini returns to inside the cave, he is dripping again; but he is refreshed. Arial is lost of colour. Her green is a sickly shade and the vibrance of her once-blinding membranes is but a memory. Moaning and clawing "tally-marks" into the floor as Sini steps to her front, she buries her snout in her chest. Sini sighs.

"Look up at me, you. Looking away ain't gonna make me go."

She groaned. She did as she was bid; she lifted her head up, and into Sini's eyes, stared. Bright purple eyes. Dull red eyes.

"Besides, I brought cha water." Shoving half the shell of a large nut full of water in front of her face, says Sini, "Drink up."

She can read no malice in Sini's eyes. A trembling paw closes around the nut shell, brings it to parched lips. She sips.

It is once she has finished the shell that she says, "Go on with it, Sini. I'm down." Full of fear: something Sini had never seen in those reds before. "You're kinda cute, Sini. I'll make you cuter...."

"What?"

"When I'm on your black scales, and your purple ones, and when the sheen of your hide says meeeee...."

"Shut up Arial."

Sini bends his knees, then snakes his head low enough to the ground to be a foot from hers. Arial flinches away.

"Come closer, Arial. I got something for ya."

Arial whimpers, squeezes her eyes shut.

Sini's head snaking forward, he whispers, "Closer my dear. Closer. Closer."

A rumble and dragon's breath rolls out of her jaws onto her snout as they open―open―open wide enough to swallow her head whole. Instead―the jaws tilt to an angle as Sini tilts his head; then Sini kisses her. Her exclamation... is silent. But now her jaws, posing for a gasp, are open; and Sini's tongue flickers in. That fire of her irises, opening wide, reignites! It becomes a competition between the two: the dance of their draconic tongues: who can tango the best. Presently both Sini and Arial stand on all-fours; and this time, Sini is the one backing her into the corner. She stands then on only-twos pressed to the chest of Sini. Her wings spread, beat against the wall. The membranes flash into flame; and an orange radiance adds a tinge of red to his black and purp'. Turns the lime-green of the cavern a pale-yellow, as if to say, Sini! Slow down! Only, Sini speeds up. A shadow draws up along the wall of a dragon dry-humping into another atop a pile? Each shadow opens its jaws to an "AH!" or an "OH!" each half-second. Presently each membrane of her wings blossoms a longer length of leather beneath the first―fiery red! Sweat drops at its own rhythm rebellious to that rocking of dragons.

As flames turn the temperature of the cave to a hundred-and-twelve the cave turns a tinge of orange.

But not quite red yet! Sini points out. Don't have to stop till the signal turns red!

* * *

If I wifed a dragon, she'd be realistic.

The next morning, Sini reaches into his neck-pocket and pulls out a satchel tied with string and unravels it, and pulls out a Golden Ring. Bowing his head to her, he says,

"Arial. I've thought about you a lot and have thought long and hard. You're fierce; you're quirky; you're smart; and you're sweet. Marry me, darling."

Arial blinks. "No Sini."

"Ah! We're gonna be so happy together!―Arial!"

"Sini, I said no." She sighs. Her ear-membranes fall, and so does her head.

"What? Arial, why? I don't understand―was it what we did last night?"

"No."

"What's wrong? Did I do something?"

"I have known you for, like, a day, Sinikoon. You know when humans say you 'stop at the red light'? That saying? That's what you need to do. You're taking this quickly―first of all."

Alas!

"Second of all, Sini, I'm not ready to commit to you. You're supposed to be dead! Te-he-he-he-he! What―how would I handle a dragon who is... Alpha? That's really discomforting, Sini. I don't get man / dragonhandled―whatever you wanna call it―like ever. You're a new kind of breed to me. Let me adjust to that."

"So you're saying?"

"We can still be mates and all, but I won't marry you."

All that time they'd spent bonding together! which seemed like forever! Rodscald ah! A little cherub shot at her chestplates, but the arrow bounced off. Could any female be as cruel?

* * *

Witty puts the quill down on the desk. She frowns at the stack of parchment before her.

"The question was 'If you ever wifed a dragon, what would she be like?' You came close, but you never got to the part about the wife."

It's Sini's turn to frown. "But I did. If I ever wifed a dragon, she would be like Arial. She'd be fierce, and quirky, and smart, and sweet, and handsome. But she'd be realistic, too. She'd know that time matters and only time tells who we'll love; and only time tells the difference between love and lust. I would lust Arial to begin with―because she'd be hot as fuck, frankly―but, with time, as I got to know her I'd learn about who she truly is; and then, I wouldn't just have a reason to lust her; I'd have a real reason to love her."

He chuckles.

"If I ever wifed a dragon, that is."