Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 23

"I-"

"Eat." Isira said softly. "I didn't spend all this time making dinner only to be turned down by a guest. You're beautiful, dear, but you're not that beautiful."

Yamma reluctantly scooped up a bit of yellow paste, eyed it dubiously as she brought it to her mouth. She sniffed it with her new senses- a pungent smell, sharp and biting- like steel being forged. She touched it to her tongue experimentally. The taste was just as riotous and hot, bristling spears of angry fire over her entire body before it burned itself into embers and smoldered out to a smoky, earthen richness in the space of an instant.

She savored the new sensation, licking experimentally at the spoon and taking more of the strange paste in. Her gaze turned to Isira who was smiling broadly at some private victory. "It's. . . Hot."

Isira motioned for her to go on. "That's curry for you, try some of the others! The teal is chicken and the blue is pork."

So it went. Yamma experimented with each in kind, finding the chicken to be more to her liking- a strange concept to her by itself. Carefully, she took a bit more, a bit more after that. Before she could finish it, though, a thought occurred to her; why not combine the two flavors?

The explosion of hot chicken in her mouth made her tongue burn like a forge and satisfy like the warmth of the woman across from her. Apparently she wasn't the only one, either- Isira was giggling, watching Yamma. At the questioning look, the goddess leaned forward and brushed a tiny bit of paste from the corner of Yamma's mouth. Then she looked her right in the eye and licked it clean from her finger. Her smile was infectious and soon Yamma found herself conscious of a warmth on her cheeks and a mild discomfort from smiling too much- as if such a thing was possible.

They finished their meals in relative silence before Isira poured some wine. The flavor was pleasant but not something Yamma had any interest in exploring beyond Isira's company. Especially not when her senses became unreliable. . . The world had a slight floaty quality to it after the wine and it made her aware of the closeness of the Goddess's flesh to her own. Somewhere between one glass and two, Isira had saddled up next to the Cherub, pressing her warmth against the young creature's skin.

Isira started to refill their glasses but Yamma stopped her. "What is it. . . Why am I here."

"Well now, that's a loaded question." Isira set the bottle down. "Perhaps we should start with why you think it is you're here? I'm going to imagine it has something to do with curiosity, yes? The unanswerable questions of your collective. . ."

"I. . ." Why was she here? "I think I remember wanting to know why Amaranth had a healthy respect for you. Maybe that was it. . ." She furrowed her brow in thought. Yes, that sounded right. "Before she died, she seemed to hold you only slightly below the Holy Elisandra."

"Hm," the goddess smiled. "So is that why you 'invited' me to see you Bind her?" There was no mirth in her voice, but she remained cordial. "Do you know why I don't keep Cherubs, dear one?"

"I. . ." Yamma rubbed her temples. Why was everything so off balance? "I don't, goddess."

"Please. Call my Isira. . . Or 'my friend', Hm?" She looped an arm around Yamma's shoulders. Her whisper was tightly focused, strangely absent of its usual playfulness. "I find the practice barbaric. . ." Six generations I fought with the others to let the practice die." She tutted. "But Elisandra wanted Man to be able to carry on the will of the gods. . ." She sipped from her wine. "I harbor no ill will. Not one bit."

Yamma looked at her oddly. "You're speaking blasphemy to an agent of-"

"I knew the woman personally, dear. Hm? Don't give me that look. . . You might find this hard to believe, but there was a time when we all intermingled- and the parties. Ohhh, dear. If you could have seen them. . ." She sighed. "But! In the fullness of time, I can only imagine both she and I will be proven right for different reasons and on different fields!"

"Beg pardon, but. . . I think I know where this is going?"

"Go on?"

"If you wish an audience with the Holy Elisandra, I can ask my superiors, but I'm. . . really new to this."

Isira looked at her oddly. Very oddly. "You mean you don't know-" she stopped herself, flashed a smile. "Oh, yes! Well! Don't worry your pretty little head over that, no, I invited you here specifically for the sake of your company!"She was back in full swing again and even Yamma could feel the surge of warmth and revelry in her presence. "Think of this as cross pollination. . ."

"Hm?"

"I have some news that may be a little late in the delivery, but remains poignant even today. . . Tell me, what does your Collective know of the creature named Barxahn?"

"I- I beg pardon, goddess, but I can't ask. . ."

"Why not?"

"I uh-" Isira put a finger to her lips. She was smiling. "I didn't tell them."

"Mmm. Curious! Not even a day after formation and you're already violating your orders?"

"But, my Charge. . . She has different views on what it means to guide and protect. To be subtle? Subtle, yes, instead of from the point of the sword"

Isira watched her fumble for an adequate explanation, when the Cherub finally relented, she picked up the wine glasses and dinner plates. "Tell me more," She said as she turned. "Tell me about your paladin- Amaranth, wasn't it?"

It was probably the wine speaking, but Yamma found the words coming easy. Tumbling from her lips as they should have. "Proud. Humble, but willing to challenge authority if its in the wrong-"

"No, dear. Tell me about her in her words- not some trite Collective impression." The goddess took the dishes to a panel in the wall and pressed it, opening a hidden compartment where she deposited them. She then came back and sat behind Yamma so that her thighs were pressed to the Cherub's sides. She rested her chin on the younger entity's head and murmured. "Why did you take her case?"

Yamma sighed. "I didn't have a choice. . . I had only been aware for a split second. The younger you are, the less you can choose from."

"That's so cute!" Isira wrapped her arms around her. Her warmth was intoxicating and Yamma found herself leaning back into it. She drank in that life while the goddess continued. "I don't believe fate could possibly align any more perfectly- You've not had lifetimes to become cynical and detached yet. . ." A sun kissed hand touched Yamma's throat delicately. "Oh, the things you could accomplish."

"I don't understand? She tried to look up but Isira was already shifting her weight so her head was resting on Yamma's shoulder.

"Your charge. . . Do you think she is worthy of Eliandra's name?"

"I- I do."

"Deep in your soul?"

"The Holy Elisandra believes her to be worthy, I would dare not question Her."

"What if I asked you to look at it another way- here." Isira covered her eyes and a second later pulled her hand away. They were seated in front of her massive window overlooking the graveyard of glass structures. Her bare feet were pressed against the glass and she could feel a gentle chill trying to work its way through her body. Isira's warmth fought that chill, though and Yamma found herself trying to sink into it more and more. "What we have here is a city. . ."

"What? This isn't a city. This is just a graveyard."

Isira chuckled. "You dare question me?"

"I- Oh. Beg pardon, goddess! I- I didn't think. . ."

"Exactly. You didn't think. You questioned. . . Now you're thinking, now you're slowing down that reasoning process to find purpose." Her lips touched Yamma's throat, she murmured in her ear. "You don't grow by blindly following orders, my dear."

"But what do I do?"

"You experiment. You question. You fall on your face from time to time and you grow stronger for it." Isira kissed her neck, and again, nipped at the tender flesh sending a shock through the young Cherub. "The world needs people who're not afraid to question us, dear. Right now. . . There is more than you can comprehend at stake and your Collective won't act because they haven't received the order to do so."

"What would you have me do-"

" Barxahn."

" Barxahn?" Yamma tried to turn her head but between the wine and Isira's attentions, she had a hard time getting up the will to do so. "The Dragon?"

Isira's voice sounded oddly cold. "One of the last. He has been causing trouble for mortals for some time and I fear he's coming to the end of his machinations, I'm sure you can imagine how that would not work favorably for any of us. . ."

"But the Collective hasn't mentioned it. Holy Elisandra-"

"Let me ask you this- what do you see below us?"

"An empty space," Yamma tried to puzzle out the subtext as Isira suckled at her neckline. The longer it went on, the less aware she was of her physical form and slowly, as though a blanket was falling from her body, she began to let her mind wander. "It's an empty space. . ."

Isira hugged her tight and sighed against her moistened flesh. "This was my home, dear. . . Long, long ago." She kissed Yamma's neck. "Will you say that about what is left in the wake of the Dragon's breath? Does the Collective even remember the Dragon song?"

"I. . . Think so? It sounds familiar?"

The bronzed skin deity began to stand, taking Yamma up with her. She placed her hand on the glass, murmuring so softly Yamma strained to make out the words. It was a language she'd never heard with hard syllables and an almost melodic flow to it. The glass blinked, brightened and flashed to overlook a bright day with grassy fields as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by a swaying tree. Dangling from some of the branches were fist sized red seed pods or something, glistening in the brilliant radiance of a pure ray of sunlight. It was almost blinding in it's simple beauty. "Do you know what this is?"

"No. . ."

She kissed Yamma's ear. "This is an apple tree. Apples were a delicious fruit that used to occupy many of my waking moments-"

"You- You speak blasphemy, Goddess."

"Maybe." Isira laid her chin on Yamma's shoulder. In that moment she wasn't a superior chiding a subordinate but a peer. She pointed at the tree, eying the Cherub out of the corner of her vision. "But you're still curious."

"I- I am. . ."

Isira laid her hands on Yamma's shoulders, effortlessly tracing the lines of muscles that didn't need food or warmth but responded to both with a familiar longing. Her hands slid down from there, following the curves of her compact body to her slender waist- a strange sensation warped Yamma's thoughts of the apple tree while Isira's mouth pressed to her spine. "They took everything from us, Dear. They found our loves, our passions. . . Our hiding places."

Yamma swallowed. "E- Even apples?"

"Even apples." She breathed into the nape of the Cherub's neck. "What will they take from Man?"

"But-" Yamma frowned, reaching for the tree. Her hand stopped at the glass and she clenched her fingers into a fist. "But they're just dragons. A battle lost, but not. . . Not the war? The Holy Elisandra taught us to guard against them, to know that there would be an end to the battle one day. . ." But that didn't sound right. There was something missing.

"What else did She tell you?"

"The Collective say She's waiting for a day to strike and not to act. . ."

Isira's humid breath warmed the bare space between Yamma's shoulders in a long sigh that was anything but pleasured. Her grip on Yamma's waist tightened, possessive and protective at once. "Stupid girl. . ."

"But-"

"Not you, dear." She fell silent for a moment. Yamma started to turn but before she knew it fingers were being run through her hair from behind, combing her short mane free from its binding to fall across her neck. A moment later she felt the impressive heat of Isira's presence warm her entire body as she brought her other arm around the smaller creature's chest and pulled her back gently so her body had to arch to remain standing. Then came the first kiss of the Cherub's life.

It was the kind of thing only a divine being could have conveyed- pain and loss, friendship and warmth, love and compassion- heat and an endless luminescence that pulled at Yamma's entire being. She had to fight to keep herself physical; feeling. She drew back panting and frazzled, looking up at the ancient power. She tried to find her voice but it simply refused to come.

Isira didn't waste a moment to steal another kiss from her and this time Yamma didn't resist. The powerful immortal wrapped her entire being around the little cherub- a ghostly hand slid into her skin and planted her own hand on the glass so she was braced against it, drawing back its warmth only when it was sure she understood to stop there. Yamma's entire body shuddered with the surge of heat welling up inside her. The powerful urge spread through her core to her nerves, to everything she was.

Longing. Hot, deep desire to feel and be felt. The new presence in her mind slithered across acres of her being in an instant and slowly, so slowly, drew back to the physical, taking Yamma with it. She became aware of the silk dress hugging her body, of hot moist lips pressed to her throat. Of the moan leaving her lips as Isira pulled her hair back gently.

"I need your help," the goddess whispered.

"I can ask-"

"Your. Help."

Yamma was trembling as Isira pressed her against the glass, her knees clenching against one another as- for the first time- she felt something tingling between her thighs. A finger grazed her oversensitive nether region and she whimpered so loudly it echoed. "Help-help-help. . . Help." The little cherub tried to remember why as she struggled to breathe. "Why me?"

"Amaranth."

Her charge.

"Help her raise an army. . ." Isira's voice faded. "Can you do that?"

"M- m- m-" Yamma's soul stirred like a hurricane, a flurry of thoughts with no cohesion. Without the Collective, she couldn't balance herself an Isira knew it. The goddess sagged to her knees behind the little Cherub, putting her luscious lips to the pale skin of Yamma's butt. The coolness faded away as she sank lower into Isira's heat- so warm. . . They both knew what was going to happen. Yamma drew another breath. That spice tickled her nose just as Isira's breath tickled the space between her ass cheeks.

"I asked you a question, dear." The goddess breathed her demand against Yamma's quickly dampening nethers.

She couldn't help it, Yamma mewled, "Yes, I can!"

As if she'd unlocked some door with her words, spears of liquid passion jolted through her entire core- a powerful, unapologetic tongue parted her labia like a flower in full bloom. A dizzying array of emotions followed that tongue, working against her instincts to tighten- to remain impassive and indifferent. Oh, but what would she have missed out by doing so? Yamma bit her lower lip, arched her back further when she felt those fingers roaming her flanks. Isira gripped her butt tightly and kissed her pussy deeply as if it was the last time- her tongue worked in deeper and deeper to the very limit of her purity. The magic of the divine woman's presence made it easy to feel what she was meant to.

Isira's fingers spread her flank muscles, loosening Yamma's vain attempts to stop herself from getting too involved. Those same fingers worked up her spine, tickling everything she was and everything she was secretly wondering she might become. Eventually she took the Cherub by the hips and tilted her head up, her tongue working increasingly more demanding circles around inside her virgin pussy.

It was all Yamma could do not to scream- she arched her back even deeper, held upright only by her grip on the window. Her head between her shoulders and a low rumbling whine on her lips. She hadn't been ready for this.

There was no going back, though. There was only the goddess's demand and the pleasure that came with it; little Yamma moaned out unconsciously while the goddess's tongue worked widening circles around her inner core- slow but deep, probing and deeply passionate. There wasn't a reason to fear or resist what might come- it was time to celebrate being alive.

It was a time to live.

Yamma dared to reach back and run her fingers through the silky locks of Isira's hair. She was rewarded with a throaty purr that reverberated through her core. She slumped forward, bracing her forearm on the glass, her red dress riding up even more when her back arched to nearly a V. "Ah- I- I-"

"Mmmmrmmm?" Isira gripped her ass tightly, savoring every drop of the Cherub's essence. Faster and faster, the tongue worked inside, spreading warmth to parts of her body Yamma didn't know even existed. She had stopped remembering to breathe long ago, but now her body was fighting her to do exactly that as a new sensation boiled from deep within- she curled her toes into the plush carpeting, pushing up on the balls of her feet.

Her voice ripped itself from her throat in a long moan that sounded more guttural than divine- "Ah- nnggghhhaahhhh!" Fire exploded across her body, jolts of high voltage pleasure that wracked her nerved with enough force to send her slamming into the glass. Spasm after spam tore through her pristine form echoing her straining vocals. She clawed weakly at the glass on her way to her knees and all the while the tongue in her pussy refused to slow down. It was too much- too much! She balled up forward trying to escape the insatiable demand but it was no use- Isira had her prize and there was no way she would be denied.

Yamma clawed at the carpeting- a whimpering kitten compared to the goddess- and tried to beg her to stop. It was no use, though. Isira kept going, heedless to her begging. Then it happened. The surge of divine warmth wrapped around her body, through her physical form to the core. Isira's presence held her firmly in place even as another, even more powerful orgasm exploded from within.

The pale little Cherub didn't stand a chance. She threw her head back, a silent scream issuing forth as every fiber of her physical being burst into impossible colors and lights. She crumpled into a heap of twitching flesh, spasm after spasm breaking across the tides of her little body while tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. Yamma wanted to hate herself. Cherubs didn't do this! It was the combined influence of a physical body and Isira's presence- it had to have been. She was weak! But it felt so right. How could she possibly have been held responsible for something so natural? The Collective had no idea what they were talking about. . .

Yamma whimpered into the rug again, shuddering as a sudden chill swept over her in the absence of Isira's grip. She shuddered, trembling. Alone. Was this what it was like to be mortal? Gods, what an existence. Bleary, she opened her eyes to see that the glass had gone dark, leaving only the endless expanse of broken city to gaze upon. She turned her head and tried to sit up.

Isira was at her side in an instant, wrapping her body around the little cherub, nuzzling her neck. Filling her with warmth and life. She turned into Isira's warmth panting and drinking in her scent with every gasp. The goddess enfolded her in her warmth and held her tight for what felt like eternity. Slowly, though, she began to ease off, kissing her forehead and stroking her hair back.

She smiled a kindly grin, cradling the cherub in her arms like a child. "Do you still doubt me?"

"D- Doubt?" Yamma looked up meekly. "N- No. . ."

The goddess smiled and cooed, "Good, good. . . It only gets better from here, dear."

"I- it can?"

"It can, if you want it too."