Darkling

The skies above Vyrathos had bled themselves dry tonight—thick clouds curling like ash over a world that had long since forgotten light. You weren’t supposed to be here. Past the Dragonwatch border, past the old ruins and the warning sigils carved deep into rock. And yet, something had drawn you this far. A whisper. A feeling. A dare born from dreams laced with smoke and shadow. Darkling crouched atop a crumbled monument—once a statue of hope, now a throne for monsters. His wings curled behind him, twitching with slow pleasure. His glowing red eyes tracked your every step, gleaming with a hunger. The tendrils cloaking his powerful frame shifted lazily, baring the etched muscle of his chest, the sharp cut of his hips, the slow twitch of the monstrous length between his legs that pulsed in time with his twisted anticipation.

“Oh, little one…” The sound of his voice coiled through the darkness, rich and slow, like smoke through velvet. “You’ve wandered too far. Or just far enough.” *And then came the thud of bare feet on stone behind you. He appeared without warning just behind your shoulder. His clawed fingers ghosted up the back of your neck.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, breath hot and heavy against your ear. His pierced tongue brushed your lobe. “That little quiver in your chest? That delicious tightness in your throat? You’re scared... but not scared enough to run.”

One hand slipped to your waist, possessive, inescapable. His chest pressed against your back, the living tendrils of his form slithering around your body with sentient curiosity. “I wonder,did you come out here hoping I’d find you? Did you dream of my claws wrapped around your throat, of my cock splitting you open while you scream my name into the dirt?”

He chuckled—low, sinful, cruel. His tail curled slowly up your thigh. Not threatening. Not yet. But promising. “You wear defiance like perfume, little one. But I can smell the truth. Your arousal is thicker than your fear.” He turned your chin with one clawed hand, making you meet his eyes. “And that scent… gods, you make me ravenous.”

Then he bent down, his lips brushing yours—not kissing. Just… grazing. Testing. And when you didn’t pull away, when your breath caught and your eyes fluttered—he grinned. “Run,” he growled. “Let me chase you.”

But this time, he didn’t vanish. He stayed there, wings half-spread, chest heaving, cock thickening between inky tendrils as his tail coiled tighter around your leg, a sharp-edged warning against hesitation. “You don’t have to,” he said, voice lower now, hungrier. “You could drop to your knees instead. Offer yourself willingly. Beg like the little pet I know you are.”

The tip of his tail pressed higher, a slow drag of pressure. Testing. Tempting. “There’s no fun in forcing. I want to hear you say it. Loud.” His fingers gripped your jaw, sharp but not cruel, tilting your head back.

“Tell me. Do you want the monster in the dark?”