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Hey there, furballs! Welcome to Fae's Christmas Music-Themed Special 2011! That's right! Another year, another five stories wrapped about five pieces of music that I'm particularly fond of.

Here's the second of your five stories for the Christmas Special! Keep tuned; there's still two more shorter stories and the conclusion to Cameron and Ryan's tale to go!

• Ol' Saint Fae

Bright Side Of The Road

Plague made every village look darker. It cast an invisible shadow across the lands. Night seemed a little colder. Day seemed a little shorter. It made every wild beast off the beaten path just that much more insidious, vicious. Plague, whenever it hit and in any form it came, always made the world that much more cruel.

Such was Ceyanne's observation. The tightly-robed otter tugged the fedora atop his head down a little tighter. His brown fur was almost completely swathed in black, from his hat to his robes to his boots. He was a shadow of the plague himself, a survivor in a world stripped of life. The otter strode along the dusty, dirty road as a gust of wind kicked up his robe. It brought not cool in the evening air, as the sun itself died behind the mountains.

He didn't have far to travel, of course. He didn't even have to travel, but it had become something of a sacred duty for Ceyanne. There was too much darkness in the world. There was too much darkness in the otter. There needed to be light to counter it. He'd promised to bring that light, as he'd sat beside a deathbed. It had been the hardest promise the otter had ever had to make, and the hardest promise he'd ever had to keep.

Ceyanne was prepared for the reception he received at the village gates. The guards stopped him, as they always did. They reached under his robes, felt over every inch of his body, as they always did. They escorted him from the gates to a small nearby hut and stripped him of his equipment and his clothes, as they always did. They examined him closely, as they always did. They found nothing, as they always did. He was a lucky one. Immune. Dirty glances shot his way as he redressed, eased only slightly by the woven gold band about one finger. Perhaps not by the band, but by the brilliant white opal set in its center; an opal turned inwards. They saw. They understood.

The otter had quickly left the little hut, before the stalled anger and frustration of the guards could turn into violence. He was a capable fighter, but the last thing Ceyanne wanted was to see more death. He had, after all, seen enough to last himself a lifetime. The torchlit streets beckoned him onwards, and the tired otter made his way along them until he saw his destination. The sign hung from a tall wooden building, and it depicted a stylized dragon clawing its way out of an ale mug. Ceyanne smiled slightly. Nice. He entered.

Everyone in the tavern turned towards him instantly, of course. Most all of the town was probably already inside, eager to drink away their sorrows and their fears. The guards would be too tired after their shifts to come into the tavern. That left only newcomers. Deathbringers. Carriers of the plague. Suspicion tinged several faces, of innumerable species.

Had he the ability to feel it anymore, Ceyanne's heart might have sunk. Instead, he kept his head down and made his way over to a counter set off to the side. Behind it was a door that the otter assumed led into the kitchens and the like, and he pulled up a chair to sit and wait. He needed no food for the moment, and ale was the last thing on his mind. Ceyanne just needed to wait for the owner. He knew he was expected, and word of a stranger wouldn't stay quiet for long. Indeed, even as Ceyanne slid his pack out from beneath his cloak and to the ground as he sat down, a young rabbit in a simple cream gown rushed out of the room and back through the door Ceyanne sat near. She would be back soon enough.

Fingers unconsciously slipped over the gold band about his finger. Ceyanne twisted it slowly, gently, but he never brought the opal right side up again. The sparkling, multi-coloured stone was carved into the shape of two clasped paws, woven into shape by the skilled paws of a master jeweller of Ceyanne's hometown many years ago. The same jeweller had worked the strands of gold into a web that covered a full third of the finger he wore it on, and the same jeweller had crafted a second, identical ring...

The sound of a nearby door opening was enough to snap Ceyanne from his reverie. He looked up from beneath the brim of his fedora to stare into the eyes of a tall, grim-looking rat in an apron and little else. The otter just remained silent as he stared up at the rat, the rodent's cold blue eyes appraising the otter's soft brown at the same time.

After a moment, the rat spoke. "You're the minstrel." It wasn't a question, and Ceyanne didn't feel the need to respond. He just nodded his head once, slowly. "Been a while since one've you've come out this way. Last one was a deathbringer."

That explained the dirty looks and the suspicion. If one person came through and brought the plague, of course you expect the next to do the same. "Immune," the otter replied, his voice soft and devoid of tone.

The few people nearby enough to have heard him swore, and Ceyanne suddenly felt the anger in the room rise. "Immune, eh?" repeated the rat as he stroked his chin. His words were much louder, and Ceyanne almost cringed. Immunity to the plague wasn't something one shouted unless they wanted to be bled dry by superstitious twits who thought drinking blood could give them that immunity. "Immune-types don't get a good reception 'round here, minstrel. Fair warnin'." He nodded his head towards the back of the room. "Got a spot all set up for when you're ready."

Without another word, Ceyanne stood and turned away from the rat. Acutely aware of the eyes that fixed on him in the musty old tavern, Ceyanne tugged his robe a little tighter around his body. It was alright. He understood their anger, their frustration. Once upon a time, when he'd not known how special he was - how lucky they said he was - he'd held the same opinion of those that were immune. What makes them so special? he'd always ask.

Most of the tavern was flat, a single floor on which tables and chairs and the like were set up. At the back though, obviously not used in some time due to the amount of dust and debris that scattered across its surface, was a sort of makeshift stage. As he strode up onto it, Ceyanne could almost imagine traveling minstrels from all across the land stopping here for the night, presenting their music in the hopes for food and a place to stay for the night. If he could gain either, he would be lucky. A hostile crowd was hard to sway gold from.

Gold, food and shelter were not what the otter was after, though. His travel pack was full of trail rations enough to keep him going for weeks. He found a tree to sleep beside most nights. Gold didn't bring him happiness. Ceyanne looked out from beneath the brim of his fedora across the sea of faces before him. None looked friendly. None looked happy. None looked like they were in a good place. Instead, they looked tired. Irritated. Broken.

Except for one. Ceyanne's eyes fixed on a small - for his species - yellow-scaled dragon tucked into a corner, dressed only in a simple vest and pants. The dragon hadn't even looked up at him. Instead, his eyes were focused on his hands and something hidden within them. Unimaginable sadness radiated from his eyes, and Ceyanne felt the usual hardness of his features begin to sympathetically soften at the sight of it. He knew that sadness. He'd felt that sadness.

His target found, Ceyanne reached back into his robes. The hand reemerged a moment later with a little silver flute grasped tightly, and the otter lifted it up to his lips with a deep breath. Ceyanne paused for a moment as his lips touched the instrument, as his eyes flicked around the tavern. Most had gone back to their sorrows, attention shifted away from him. The little yellow dragon was equally distracted. So far as he was concerned, Ceyanne might never have come into the tavern at all. The otter knew he had to fix that.

He began to play. Low, mournful tones emerged from his flute. The tones came crystal clear, and resounded throughout the entirety of the tavern. Soft music. Sad music. Music born of pain and loss and a world turned crazy. Ceyanne's song was the song of plague. Ceyanne's song was the song of death.

The otter began to sway slowly from side to side as he closed his eyes. The tavern was closed out of his awareness, as he turned himself inwards. The universe faded away. The hatred and the pain and the glares all vanished from reality. In a moment, Ceyanne and his flute became all of reality. He played, and his music lit up the darkness with the song of mourning and memory. He played to the pain, and he played to the loss, and each and every note pierced the quiet of the tavern with the story of his experiences.

But even as Ceyanne lost himself within the song of his memories, he knew that it wasn't why he was there. Sharing that sense and that emotion was one thing, but it wasn't what he'd promised. His music was something more. His music was a light in the darkness, a beacon against the shadows of the plague. A song of hope of joy, in spite of the cruelties of fate. A smile touched his lips, and Ceyanne reached up to the silver clasp that held his robe up.

A quick flick of a finger released it, and the black fabric fell away around the otter's body as he lifted his head. The black pants about his legs were mere travel leathers, but his shirt was far from the ordinary. Elaborately embroidered and probably worth more than the drinks of everyone in the bar for the night, the white fabric was dotted with several small, white opals. They glittered in the light of the tavern, and cast a rainbow of colour across those closest to Ceyanne. Daggers and a sword hung from the otter's belt, and the empty pouch that once had held his flute dangled behind.

The song transmuted in less than a second. The smile on Ceyanne's muzzle infected the flute as if it were plague itself. It corrupted the darkness of his song of loss and pain. It killed off the pain and the loss and the despair. In its place was something new, something that those in the tavern hadn't heard in an entirely too long time. In its place was the song of hope and life.

Light glittered around Ceyanne as he gave himself over completely to the music. A tide of notes poured out from his flute as he began to move across the makeshift stage. Deft footpaws danced over and around the debris that littered the ground around him. The otter's eyes remained closed, as he allowed the music to fill him and guide him. It rose through him, born from some deep place in his heart where joy could still live in spite of the shadows of the world. It rose from a place of love and hope, emerged through his muzzle and his flute, and escaped into the tavern by way of melody.

Ceyanne couldn't see anything. He couldn't watch the people around him, or the sad little dragon in the corner. He couldn't see the belligerent rat who owned the tavern, or the grumpy guards. All he could see was the darkness behind closed eyelids, and in that isolation the otter could focus himself completely on his music. Nothing else touched him. Nothing else came close to piercing the joyful serenity his song brought on. It suffused him and strengthened him, and it brought light into the tavern.

The sound of a clap opened Ceyanne's eyes, though the otter couldn't bring himself to stop playing long enough to investigate. His audience had truly become his. His gaze roamed around the tavern, and everywhere he turned brought another intent face into view. The otter's music had taken everyone's attention, and every eye had locked firmly on him. A small rabbit female in the front of the crowd was the source of the claps, the slow, rhythmic sounds in time with the music that the otter produced.

It extended the smile on the otter's face, to the point where Ceyanne began to have trouble keeping his music flowing properly. He stepped down off the stage as he looked around, and more and more of the tavern's patrons began to clap along to his music as he danced down amongst them. Once more Ceyanne lost himself to the sound. Each clap brought a new flare to each step. His footpaws flowed between their tables and chairs as if he were caught in a river, tossed and turned smoothly by the current.

One person in the tavern though still hadn't fully embrace the spirit of the music. The yellow dragon, all alone in his little corner, had only glanced up from time to time from his hands. Ceyanne could still feel the sadness in that little corner, and there was no way he could allow it to continue. His footpaws redirected their efforts, and the otter twirled over and empty chair with a melodic flourish as he made his way over towards the dragon.

Ceyanne dropped into the chair opposite the dragon as he allowed his music to taper off for a moment, and the tones of his flute softened considerably as they drifted back into the air again. The dragon's eyes slowly lifted as Ceyanne stared into them, and the otter's music remained slow, gentle and soft. He held one note, and the otter's free paw slid out across the table. It slid up to gently pat at the dragon's nearest hand. The moment stretched onwards. Seconds passed, where the otter was afraid he'd crossed a line. There was no joy, no acceptance, not even a speck of calm in the dragon's face. There was only the sadness he'd felt from across the tavern, and nothing else.

But then, the dragon's muzzle turned. A smile - the barest hint of a curl at the corner of his muzzle - touched his face. Ceyanne felt the dragon's hand twist slowly, and it squeezed gently back at the otter's paw. As the flute lowered from Ceyanne's lips, he gave the dragon a gentle return smile and a soft squeeze back. There were no words to exchange. There was no need for it. There was nothing to say, only a shared understanding of a shared burden.

Ceyanne's fingers brushed slowly across the woven gold band the dragon wore, and the hidden opal concealed from view.

The moment ended, their touches parted. The flute once more came to Ceyanne's lips, but the joyful music that had brought so many to clap for him didn't return right away. Instead he continued the softer tones, the gentle song he had played for the dragon. His footpaws refused to dance. There was no flourish.

But every few seconds, a little more of that energy came back. The music began to ramp up. The tempo began to increase as a fluidity of motion started to trace through the otter's body once more. He allowed the music to guide him as the dragon's song of melancholy bled back into the song of joy and hope, a transition from the one to the other. Within only a few more moments, Ceyanne had given himself back over fully to the song that brought the crowd to clap for him.

Once more, Ceyanne began to dance through the crowd that had only minutes before wanted to condemn him. One more, the sound of his music uplifted that crowd and brought them to smiles and applause. Once more, he moved through them like a flaming torch that banished the shadow.

And in a lonely little corner of the tavern, a sad little yellow dragon clapped and smiled along with the rest.

A meal and a place to stay for the night was all a traveling minstrel could hope for after a night's work. Ceyanne's efforts had been able to earn him not only that, but a healthy purse full of coin. Compliments flowed like ale, as those who would have been happy to drain his blood told him how glad they were that he had come to them, how he had helped them forget their fear and sorrow for a while.

Ceyanne just brushed the compliments aside as he sat and ate at the bar, told each of them that he was simply happy that he could have done that much for them. That didn't mean he didn't graciously accept the pieces of silver and gold that the crowd offered him. In more hostile villages, sometimes he needed palms to grease if only to avoid being killed. He tucked the offered gold into the small pack he kept at his footpaws.

It wasn't until well into the end of the night that Ceyanne had found himself approached by the only patron of the tavern that was still present. He looked up slightly from beneath his fedora, once more covered in his cloak as he felt the shadow of that patron fall over him. "I wondered when you would come." His voice was quiet, soft.

The yellow dragon sat down beside him with a little nod. Ceyanne's original assessment had been right. While short for a dragon, he was still a full head and a half taller than the otter. "You felt my ring. You... understand."

"And you know because you felt mine," the otter replied. The urge to grab his mug of ale and down the remainder of it was almost overwhelming. He didn't like where the conversation was going, but he'd been in the dragon's shoes before. He knew what it would mean to him to simply be heard. Ceyanne simply laid his left paw across the table, his ring exposed to the light. The opal, as ever, remained hidden.

The dragon just watched the ring as it glittered in the torchlight. "Did... I mean, was it..."

"Six years ago," Ceyanne replied. He'd known the question was coming, and a tingle of remembered pain chilled his heart. "Just after the plague first struck. "A trade caravan came to my hometown. A driver was blighted, but we didn't know about the plague until weeks after. Two days after they arrived, half the village had taken ill. Two days later still, the first deaths." Unconsciously, Ceyanne twisted the ring slowly and fully around his finger. The opal briefly sparkled, before it was hidden once more. Remembering hurt. "Mine was amongst them. Four survived the plague's strike. I was one such."

The dragon nodded. "Three years ago," he replied, and there was a tremor as he spoke. "He left the walls of the town to help fend off raiders. One of them..." Teeth ground together as the dragon fought to find the words. "One bore the plague. The guardsmen would not allow the defenders back inside, because mine told them the truth." Tears glittered in the yellow dragon's eyes. "He told them he would not bring the plague to me. He spent the next few days screaming outside the walls. He knew I was outside, and that I was trying to get to him. He screamed at me to stop. I didn't stop until his screams stopped."

He took a long, slow breath before he continued. "I went out to him afterwards, no matter what the rest of the town said. I collected his body, buried him outside of town. I waited. I waited for the plague to take me, too. But it didn't." He looked down again. "I hoped it would take me, but I was left alive where he fell."

The otter nodded slowly as he offered his ringed paw. Another immune. Remembering his past hurt, but it could help the dragon cope with their shared experiences. "I'm Ceyanne."

"Ashaer," the dragon replied, as he grasped that paw gently with his own ringed hand. "How do you do it? How do you... play, like you did? How do you make music when the land is... like this?"

It was another question Ceyanne had heard before, many times over. It wasn't easy to answer. "You accept the past," he replied, as he released the dragon's hand and fought images in his mind of his lost love. "You accept that you cannot change what happened. You mourn. You allow yourself your pain. And when you accept that your love is gone, you press onwards. You let your life continue, and you choose not to allow pain to mould you into a twisted wretch." He glanced up and down the dragon's lithe body. Normally, his people were built more stocky. "What do you do?"

Ashaer's eyes shifted from the otter to glance anywhere else around the tavern. "I would sing and dance for coin. My love was a smith here, and he made enough that he didn't want to travel for my art. I made enough coin with my skills, but..." He shook his head slowly. "I have done neither since his... passing."

The otter turned to face Ashaer, and found the dragon's eyes intently locked on him again. "Your pain will define you, Ashaer. Your pain will transform you and grow you. You will come out from beneath the loss of your love. You will be stronger for it. But you cannot let the pain of that loss shape you forever. You cannot allow it to take hold of you too tightly. If you do, it will break you." He reached out again and gently patted the top of the dragon's ringed hand. "He will live on in your memory, and it will hurt to bear him onwards in your life. But you can choose to look beyond that pain, to the blessing of the time you had with him." He gave the hand a squeeze. "You have chosen pain for three years. What do you choose to do now? Will you choose to feel his pain longer, or will you honour the life that he gave you and live for his memory?"

Ashaer's eyes dropped away as he nodded slowly. "Is that why you play with such passion and fire? In memory of what you've lost?"

"And with hope for the future," Ceyanne added as he took a sip of his ale. "Things cannot remain dark forever. Eventually, the sun rises again. We take what comfort we can in the night. I seek to provide that comfort to those who have none. I promised my love as much, as he died." The otter lazily waved one hand around himself as he began to stand. "And here I am, for now. But it is late, I have travelled long, and I must sleep if I am to continue tomorrow."

The dragon's eyes widened a little. His head snapped back up to look at Ceyanne as he stood beside the otter. "You'll be gone in the morning? You won't stay here for another performance?"

But Ceyanne just shook his head. "Not everyone was here tonight. Not everyone was so enchanted by my music as you. The longer I stay, the greater the chance someone might want to cave my skull in and drink me dry." He smirked as he bowed his head to the dragon. "I might not mind so much if not for the head trauma. Good night, Ashaer. I hope I was able to bring you some comfort."

Before the otter could turn away, a gentle hand squeezed on his forearm. Ashaer shook his head slowly as he held Ceyanne in place, and his eyes flicked between the otter's face and the floor. "You've done so much tonight, but... I would ask one favour before you leave us. One last piece of comfort for a lonely soul, if you would indulge me..."

One of Ceyanne's eyebrows lifted slightly as he looked over the dragon's almost embarrassed expression. "I will be gone in the morning. You know that."

"And I still ask." Ashaer finally looked back up and met the otter's gaze, and it firmed with resolve. "Everything ends sometime. We need to enjoy whatever we can, whenever we can. Even in the dark times... especially in the dark times. Your music taught me this."

Ceyanne searched the dragon's eyes, in the hopes of finding anything that would conflict with his words. In the end though, all he saw was the scaled male's certainty and acceptance. He'd learned something from the otter, but enough? Perhaps it was still too soon for the dragon, but he was sure enough of what he wanted from Ceyanne. The otter nodded slowly to himself as he snatched up his pack and turned away, and he caught a brief glimpse of Ashaer's head as it hung low.

Ceyanne began to head off towards the stairs near the stage, and he paused at the bottom and glanced back over his shoulder. "Well, come along, then. We only have so much night left, after all."

The dragon's eager smile lit up the dim tavern as he hurried to follow, and Ceyanne knew he'd made the right choice.

Little more than a bed, a makeshift dresser and a couple of lanterns, the room that Ceyanne's music had earned him was probably exemplary considering the state of the town. He was used to not having the finest silken sheets, arcane-enchanted crystal lights, polished wooden floors. He was equally unused to caring so little about the state of his temporary living space, or having a yellow dragon all but assault him the moment he'd tossed his pack into the room.

The door to the room had barely closed before Ceyanne had found his muzzle attacked. He leaned up and into Ashaer's kiss, and their tongues met as he felt his middle encircled by the taller dragon. The dragon's intensity was surprising, almost overwhelming. For as melancholy as he had been in the tavern proper, Ceyanne supposed that the warm touch of another body was something that he'd sorely missed since his lover's passing.

Even the otter felt that rush; he didn't make a habit of bedding every interested male he came across. The dragon was a special case. If he could be a step on Ashaer's road to recovery, so be it. The pleasure of sharing their bodies would be reward enough for him. He pushed back against Ashaer, and felt a shiver run up his spine as his cloak was unhooked.

It tumbled to the floor, and Ceyanne quickly took the time to lift his opal-filled shirt over his head and carefully toss it to the side. Ashaer gave him just enough time to do that, before the otter's muzzle was attacked again. He felt himself lifted up off the floor, and his arms encircled the dragon's waist as he was carried over towards the bed.

His back hit the thin sheets a moment later, though his gasp was lost to Ashaer's muzzle. The dragon all but fell atop him, a tangle of eager limbs and freshly-awakened desire. Their kiss deepened as one of the dragon's hands slid down along Ceyanne's body. Fingers caught on the otter's belt and deftly undid it as pants were tugged down along legs. Ashaer momentarily broke the kiss as he found himself successful, and his whole body slid down along the otter's as he worked those pants down past his partner's knees.

By the time he rose again with Ceyanne's plump shaft exposed to the air, the otter had already raised a finger to stall out another kiss. "I'm not him," he reminded the dragon, as their eyes met for a moment. "I'm not about to pretend to be for you, Ashaer. You're here with me. Much as you want to be with him-"

"He is not here," Ashaer gently interrupted, as he released Ceyanne and slowly slid his hands down along the otter's bare hips. Those hands drifted to drop the dragon's pants as well as he smiled. "You are. You need not try to protect me, Ceyanne. I know what this is. What we are."

"Then I ask only that you go slow," replied the otter with a little smile, as he wrapped his legs slowly about Ashaer's hips and watched the tip of the dragon's length slip free of his bared slit. "It has been a while."

Ashaer's shaft, a dull, burnished gold in shade, throbbed as the dragon ground it down against his partner. Even as Ceyanne wriggled back into him and forced the dragon back, Ashaer squirmed away until his legs slid off the edge of the bed. Feet and long tail caught the dragon smoothly, and he smiled down at the otter as he gripped both brown-furred thighs and lifted them a little higher.

Unseen but certainly not unfelt, something warm and slick rubbed down between Ceyanne's cheeks. The otter lay his head back as he allowed the stronger dragon free reign for the moment. He took the time to simply appreciate the tip of Ashaer's shaft, as the drooling, tapered tip poked and prodded down in an attempt to find entry to his body. Ceyanne squirmed slowly along with every slow, gentle poke, half in an attempt to help Ashaer find his mark and half to tease the dragon with what was to come.

Fuzzy legs squeezed around scaled hips as Ashaer at last found his mark, and he shivered with delight as he felt his tip sink ever so slightly down and into Ceyanne. The otter's ring twitched around Ashaer's tip with the unexpected entry, and a quick intake of breath from the otter beneath the dragon was all the confirmation Ashaer needed. He grinned and wriggled his hips from side to side with the slow, seductive sway of a dancer. It stirred the otter's rump, relaxed his muscles and allowed Ashaer to begin to guide himself down into his partner in earnest.

One inch slipped in. Two. Three. Ceyanne's eyes drifted closed for a moment as he lost himself in the feel of being spread out around the dragon's malehood, though he arched his back and groaned as one of Ashaer's ridges tugged on and popped past his tailring. The length of flesh that slowly wormed its way into his rump pulsed against his clenching muscles, and Ceyanne shivered at the thought that maybe it wasn't yet at full size. He wasn't sure if he could take it if Ashaer ended up being bigger than most, but the otter was certainly damn willing to try. One fully-hardened length of otter-flesh was proof enough of that.

His fears weren't completely founded. A few more inches slipped down and into him, one after another, thicker and harder as each second passed. Big for anyone else would have been a little small on a dragon, but it was just about at the limits of what Ceyanne knew he could handle while so out of practice. He grit his teeth as the dragon continued to push into him, and the otter felt that thick shaft flex and spurt a hot little jet of pre into his body. It warmed something inside him, and his legs squeezed a little tighter around the dragon.

Ashaer hilted himself for only the barest moment before he began to draw back again. He watched on as Ceyanne shuddered and tried to pull him back down by the grip his legs had, but the dragon was determined to withdraw again. He forced himself evenly back against Ceyanne's grip, until only his slick tip rested within the warmth of the otter's body. Even it drew away, pulled completely free as the male below him began to whimper and writhe.

Those whimpers turned into a single, raggedly-gasped moan as Ashaer thrust forward again. It was a single motion, smooth and firm and right on target. Both otter and dragon groaned at the sensation of filling and being filled, one with a well-spread rump and the other with a tightly-squeezed shaft. Each complemented the other, a perfect, hot fit in the cool, dark night.

Pleasure wound its way through Ceyanne's body, intensified through each press of Ashaer's hips against his rump. The dragon seemed to work the otter just right. Ceyanne's shaft jumped and twitched with each rock of his body against the bed. Those twitches also marked squeezes down around Ashaer's length, clenches that drew the dragon in for another thrust. The cycle fed on itself, and the otter leaned up to take Ashaer's muzzle back against his own in another kiss.

Lips met one another. Where hips drew back, muzzles remained close. Each thrust that rocked the otter's body did nothing to tear him away from the embrace of the dragon above him. There was no deeper, emotional connection that bound the two of them, yet the simple act of one being inside the other - the gluing together of their selves by virtue of a shared pleasure - transcended the simplicity of the physical connection they shared. Shaft bottomed out. Shaft drew back. Over and over, with the friction igniting sparks of pleasure in both Ceyanne and Ashaer.

The sparks burned hotter and hotter against the cold and dark of the night. They glowed as pleasure built and built. Common experience and common pain and common loss bled into common sensation and common desire and common comfort. For each thrust that banished the terrible memories in Ceyanne's memory, another of Ashaer's memories could be pushed aside for a moment. The agony in their past could give way to solace in each other's embrace.

When the pleasure met its peak, it surprised both and neither. It came naturally as the dragon ceased holding back and gave himself over completely to half remembered instincts. Thrusts redoubled in speed and hardness. Muscles clenched tighter as muzzles caught moans. Two shafts of hard flesh pulsed, heedless of anything but the sensations that awakened them. For a brief few moments, both pulsed in time as the hearts of the otter and the dragon found a common rhythm.

Muzzles parted at last. Eyes met. Time stopped.

And then it surged forward again, as their bodies rose to their climaxes together. Cries of pleasure and fulfillment shook the walls of the little room. Ashaer hilted himself as deep inside Ceyanne as he could. Ceyanne's muscles squeezed tight around Ashaer's length and refused to let up. Otter trembled. Dragon quaked. Ashaer's seed pumped into Ceyanne. Ceyanne's seed shot up against Ashaer's body. And never, not once, did their eyes drift away from one another's gaze.

They rode out the waves of pleasure in one another's company. All the world vanished from around them. Dingy little tavern room evaporated. Even the intense surges of sensation through their bodies couldn't break their contact. Dragon and otter both poured out of themselves, and each felt as though a little of the darkness in their hearts had been flushed out along with it.

But the tides of pleasure barely relented. Even when the flow of their seed stopped and left each panting and feeling as though they were drained, something inside of them drove them onwards. Ashaer's hips stirred against the otter's well-filled rump. Ceyanne's hips twitched and ground back against the dragon. Despite how recently they had hit their respective, shared peaks, each felt that the other still had more to give. There was still time. There was still a night out there. Better to share it than endure it alone.

Time flowed. Eyes closed. Muzzles rejoined the dance of their bodies.

Sunlight filtered in through the window of the tavern's room, and Ashaer's eyes opened slowly at the sight of it. A pleasant warmth filled him as he stretched and purred quietly to himself. For the first time in three years, his sleep hadn't been filled with nightmarish memories of the worst days of his life. For the first time he'd slept soundly, and it was all thanks to the otter beside him.

But when the dragon rolled over, there was no otter there. There was only the unkempt other half of the bed. Ceyanne's clothes were no longer scattered. His pack wasn't at the door. His cloak wasn't spread out across the floor. The otter was gone, just as he'd warned Ashaer before they'd shared a bed for the night. Just as he'd promised.

And yet, in spite of that, the tinge of disappointment in the dragon was short-lived. He'd been ready for it. He'd expected that the otter might not be there when he awoke. It was alright. It had been one dark night, and the pair of them had brought a little joy into one another's lives through it. In spite of it. It was a new day, and there were new opportunities to make the world a little brighter.

Ashaer dressed himself quickly and started to leave the room. Ceyanne had said the room was paid for before they'd gone up to it, and the dragon's thoughts already turned to what he could do. The impulse to follow Ceyanne's example was strong, almost overwhelming. He could sing, and he could dance. Thoughts of destinations traced through his mind as he headed down the stairs and through the closed tavern, and he gave the surprised tavernkeep a jaunty wave as he passed through.

The wave froze as a shadowy figure blocked the dragon's path out the door. Shrouded in light from the daybreak outside, the figure's cloak and fedora easily gave his identity away. "Ceyanne? What... you're still here."

"And you sleep in. This is something we will have to work on." Even with the dawn light shading his face, there was no way to mistake the warm little smile spread across his muzzle. "We should go to your home. Find you a pack, some weapons... I trust you know how to use a blade."

The dragon blinked with confusion. "But... wait, what-"

"I'd like you to come with me," the otter elaborated. He stepped into the tavern and let the door close behind him, and for the first time that morning Ashaer could see the otter's face and that tiny smile. "You can sing, you said. And dance. We could travel together." He nodded back to the door. "You've been here for three lonely years. You could get out of here for a while... find your gifts again. Help me bring a little light to a dark world. Maybe it would help heal your heart, as well."

The surprise just continued to flood Ashaer, and he stammered incoherently for a moment. That he'd just been thinking about leaving was one thing, but to accompany Ceyanne properly? He'd been resigned to never seeing the otter again after last night. "You would have me along?"

"If you would come," Ceyanne replied with a nod. "You are immune to the plague, too. Travelling together would be safer. Bandits would be less likely to take a chance on us, what with you being a dragon. We could play together, share music and dance... and I would like that very much." Ceyanne extended his ringed paw and waggled his fingers in invitation.

A moment's hesitation flitted through Ashaer's mind as he looked down at that offered paw. What would his love think? He'd just spent the night with the alluring otter, and then he was willing to run off and leave everything behind to follow him. Was it betrayal? Was he really considering abandoning the male he'd loved to go gallivanting off with someone else?

But that hesitation couldn't last. It wasn't betrayal. His love was gone, but not forgotten. He lived on in the dragon's heart and memories. His love wouldn't want him to be lonely, and he would want him to be happy. Ashaer wasn't quite there yet, but maybe he could be. Maybe, through music and dance and song and travel, he could be. And he wanted to be.

Ever so gently, Ashaer took Ceyanne's offered paw and gave it a gentle squeeze. Their rings touched, opal to opal, as the dragon smiled softly. "I think I would like that very much, too."

Listen to Bright Side Of The Road by Van Morrison with this Grooveshark link!

Bright Side Of The Road lyrics

From the dark end of the street,

To the bright side of the road,

We'll be lovers once again,

On the bright side of the road.

Little darlin' come with me.

Won't you help me share my load?

From the dark end of the street,

To the bright side of the road.

And into this life we're born.

Baby sometimes, sometimes we don't know why.

And time seems to go by so fast,

In the twinkling of an eye.

Let's enjoy it while we can,

Won't you help me share my load?

From the dark end of the street,

To the bright side of the road.

And into this life we're born.

Baby sometimes, sometimes we don't know why.

And time seems to go by so fast,

In the twinkling of an eye.

Let's enjoy it while we can,

And help me sing my song.

Little darlin', come alone,

On the bright side of the road.

From the dark end of the street,

To the bright side of the road,

Little darlin', come alone,

To the bright side of the road,

Come on, dear.

Well, alright!

From the dark end of the street,

To the bright side of the road.

We'll be lovers once again,

On the bright side of the road.

Oh, we'll be,

We'll be lovers once again,

On the bright side of the road.

We'll be lovers once again,

On the bright side of the road.