Scale & Flame - Part 2
In which a dragon walks into a dragon bar
NB: Yes, I’m continuing this story. For any of you who might be confused: Scale & Flame is completely separate from Tales of the Dragonlands. Yes, there’s a dragon named Rax in this, but he’s a different character living in a different world.
If you must, you may consider this a parallel universe.
Content warnings for implied sex. Discretion advised.
Chapter 4 – A Dragon Walks Into A Dragon Bar
Two months earlier, although in draconic terms a mere flash of time. Rax Stonefire, the ruby-scaled bartender of the Scale & Flame, watched as the last of his patrons drained their drinks and prepared to head out into the night.
Then Rax saw…him. A cobalt draconic drowning something in his third ale. Didn’t look existential, cosmic, life-shattering. Nobody had died. Hadn’t just been dumped. That wasn’t it. Rax could read these things. So what was it?
The cobalt drake’s tail twitched with a listless rhythm, telling Rax only that the cobalt was likely just bored or lonely.
Rax’s eyes focused on the cobalt’s sleeveless tunic, on the curve of muscle in his arms, on the glimmer of amber in those downturned eyes. Hmm.
So Rax broke one of his rules. He walked on over there with a fresh ale and placed it in front of the cobalt, who blinked up at him.
“Oh I didn’t—” Cobalt began.
“Shh. This one’s on the house if you’ll tell me what you’re drowning in it.”
“Oh,” Cobalt said with a soft chuckle. “Nothing…really. Just…hate my job.”
“What’s your job?”
“Oh Gods, do you really want to know? I’m a clerk at a solicitor’s office. Paperwork. So much…paperwork. I just…I can’t do it anymore.”
“That sounds interminable,” Rax said, leaning in. “You ever considered changing it up?”
“To what?” Cobalt asked. “I’m just…I have no idea. Gotta pay the bills, right?”
“I could use an apprentice,” Rax said, breaking a second of his rules.
“Huh?”
“You learn the ropes here. I pay you a fair wage. What do you say?”
Cobalt looked down and drank deeply of his beer before answering, “Uh...I dunno…”
“I’m Rax.” Rax put out his arm, and Cobalt clasped it in his own. Rax let the contact sit for a second longer than customary.
“Tarron.”
“What’s your clan, Tarron? I am Stonefire.”
“Long story,” Tarron said. “Nothing now. Used to be Duskenhold.”
Tarron’s eyes focused on Rax now, and Rax saw the once-over. Saw the moment Tarron decided.
Then Tarron said this:
“Uh, I’m…hey, so. You’re…um. I…”
“Wow,” Rax said. “Try that again. Breathe. It’s ok.”
“Shit,” Tarron said. “I’m bad at this.”
“Yeah, I can see that. But I’m not bolting yet.”
“Ok. Do you want to…go somewhere…after this? With me?”
“Why?” Rax asked, cocking his head, torturing the poor guy.
“Uh...”
“One more try.”
Rax snaked his tail toward the cobalt drake, brushing it against an ankle before retracting it.
Tarron threw back the rest of his ale and said, “What time do you close the bar?”
“Now, if you’d like.”
Rax leaned in even closer. Tarron smelled of sweat, old embers, and too much ale, and Rax wanted to lose himself in those eyes.
“I would,” Tarron husked.
“There. Was that so hard?”
Rax reached out, grabbed Tarron’s shirt collar, and pulled him into a deep kiss.
###
The next morning. Rax awoke, dawn light filtering in through the rough curtains over the dormer window.
Snoring next to him.
Oh. He stayed, did he?
Rax turned his head and saw Tarron lying there, his back scales shimmering indigo and cerulean as the light hit them, the cobalt’s tail draped loosely across Rax’s back, warm, present, there.
Tarron had proved himself an eager if inexperienced lover, though in the end Rax would grade his performance above average. Whether there was anything between them other than a one-night exchange of lust and fluids remained to be seen.
Rax stood, naked, his own tail swishing behind him in a lazy rhythm, and walked to his small kitchen, where he tied on a leather apron, stacked wood and blew fire into the stove to light it, and then set water boiling for coffee.
Tarron roused himself, amber eyes blinking awake, yawning and stretching. Rax enjoyed the show. Tarron had the kind of physique that spoke of an active childhood and adolescence, but an adulthood that had other priorities. Defined musculature, sure, but lithe, lean, lanky even.
“Hey there,” Rax said. “Sleep ok?”
Tarron looked at Rax for a minute, and Rax felt Tarron’s eyes roaming the way his hands and mouth had done last night, focusing in on all the right places.
“Yeah,” Tarron said. “You?”
“Like a whelp in his mother’s arms.”
Tarron slid out of bed and started wrestling himself back into his clothes.
“Not so fast, blue. Want to enjoy the view a little bit longer. Come sit. Have coffee. You got somewhere you need to be?”
“I mean, work.”
“Fuck work. I told you. Come work for me.”
“I can’t just quit. Plus, uh, isn’t there something weird about working for someone…and…fucking them?”
Rax grinned. “So you’re saying you want to do more of that then?”
Tarron slid his huge clawed feet into worn leather fan-toed boots, wrestled his trousers up and around his tail, buttoning them, front and back, and said, “Yeah. Yeah I do.”
“Good,” Rax said, striding over and kissing Tarron deep, tasting him, remembering flashes and moments from last night, wanting more. Needing more. Tarron kissed him back, putting a cobalt-scaled hand on the side of Rax’s face, stroking there.
Rax broke away, because any further contact risked a spontaneous repeat of last night’s exertions, and he just didn’t have the energy for that kind of rutting right now.
“Stay for coffee at least,” Rax said.
“Ok. Yeah.”
Chapter 5 – Fish and Persuasion
That night, not the customary and ridiculous three-day waiting period that most repeat dates require, but that very night, Tarron returned to the bar.
“Hey there, blue,” Rax said, looking at Tarron in that tight vest and breeches that hid none of his redeeming features. “What are you drinking?”
“Just an ale, thanks.”
Rax poured one and said, “On the house.”
Rax had a full tavern tonight, so he knew he couldn’t spend too much time with Tarron, but he leaned over the bar for a quick smooch. Tarron tasted of breath freshener covering a strong flavor, something he’d eaten.
“Did you have fish for dinner?”
“Yeah, shit,” Tarron said. “Tried to cover it. I know it stinks. It’s just…it’s the fish sandwich from that place by the old pier. You ever been there?”
“Nope,” Rax said. “Not a fish guy. Nothing wrong with fish, but I’m a land meat dragon. Preferably cooked over lava pits.”
“I get it,” Tarron said. “Grew up roasting boar and elderbeast in the…”
Tarron’s eyes went somewhere, and he stopped.
“You ok, blue?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just remembering…and…gods. You’re busy. I’ll tell you later.”
An argument diverted Rax’s attention, and he stomped over to a table of rowdy orcs having some kind of tusk-measuring contest. Rax leaned over them, eight feet of draconic muscle dwarfing their squat green hides, and growled, smoke curling out of his nostrils. As a one, the orcs put up surrender hands and apologized.
“Good,” Rax said. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
He checked in on a table of gnomes tinkering with some clockwork gizmo, because that was what gnomes always did. This one appeared to be a delicate toy, a gossamer-winged fairy that moved with a windup mechanism. Intricate work, actually, and Rax stopped a moment to watch.
“That’s some interesting tech there,” he said.
“Isn’t it?” A reedy voice responded, one of the gnomes craning his neck way, way up to look at Rax.
“How does it work?”
The gnome proceeded to buffet Rax with detailed specifications until Rax said, “Oh, very nice,” and walked back to the bar.
“You doing ok?” Tarron said.
“Yeah,” Rax said. “Just another night here. Which is why I could use an apprentice.” He gave Tarron a look.
“I’m thinking about it, ok?”
“Think faster.” Rax ran off to deal with a dwarven arm-wrestling situation that had ended in a cascade of ale tankards.
###
Rax locked the tavern door and flipped the “closed” sign over, and then stumbled over to Tarron’s barstool and said, “You see why I need an apprentice,” before collapsing on the adjacent stool.
Tarron chuckled, saying, “Yeah, Rax. You’re running yourself ragged over here.”
“So work for me.”
“Convince me,” Tarron purred.
Rax lunged forward and kissed Tarron, hard, and then interlaced his fingers into Tarron’s before pulling the cobalt dragonborn into his arms.
###
“Ok, I’m convinced,” Tarron rasped, catching his breath, as Rax rolled off of his back. Tarron collapsed onto his stomach as the two basked in sweat and satiation in a tangle of sheets in Rax’s bed in the loft above the tavern.
“So all I have to do is…fuck you so hard that you literally scream my name, and you’ll do whatever I say?”
“Yeah, basically,” Tarron panted. “It’s a good argument, anyway.”
“So. Quit your job. Come work for me.”
“Yeah. That sounds like a plan. And…more of this. That also sounds like a plan.”
Rax stroked Tarron’s face. “I think we have a contract, blue.”
Chapter 6 – Apprenticeship With Benefits
So they’d talked, but not much, and they’d fucked, quite a lot for two nights. But they still didn’t know each other very well. And Rax wanted to fix that. With a proper date.
Right after Tarron’s first day as an apprentice bartender.
Rax taught Tarron a few basic drinks at first, and Tarron practiced them until he could make them without spilling a drop. Which took less time than Rax expected. A good sign.
And Tarron was a dab hand at pouring a perfect pint, getting the head just right.
Which wasn’t the only head he was good at getting just right.
Tarron served a few customers, learning how to carry four pints at once, stacking cocktail glasses in a precarious tower, even tossed in a dragonfire flourish with his breath on one drink, earning applause from a red-scaled drakaina wearing a stunning black evening dress. He winked at her, and she smirked and mimed fanning herself.
And Rax got…jealous?
What?
Ok. That was new. And fast.
And stupid.
Obviously it was fine if Tarron put on a show of flirting with the patrons. Obviously that was part of the game.
And Rax had as much of a claim on Tarron as anyone here. He’d known the cobalt draconic for all of a halfweek, so he could just…get over himself.
###
“So, Tarron,” Rax said, leaning over the white tablecloth, a pure beeswax candle flickering on the edge, a violinist playing an elvish love song in the background, and fire-roasted boarmeat on the way. “Tell me…more about you. Just…anything you want.”
“Well,” Tarron said. “I mean. You want the easy stuff or the hard stuff?”
“What do you mean?”
“You want my favorite music, color, thing to do on a weekend? Or you want to know why I no longer claim my clan’s name?”
Rax sat back and sipped at his wine, which was delicious by the way, tasting of summer and moonlight and cherries and time.
“Is there something in the middle? I don’t want to bring up anything painful.”
“Well, ok. Let’s start with the basics. I grew up in my clan’s cavern, of course. My parents are the matriarch and patriarch of the clan, so I was set up to succeed them. Then…Edlan happened.”
“Edlan?” Rax asked.
“The first boy I ever kissed. We were too young, really, just heading into the mad nonsense of adolescence, and he kissed me in the wine cellar, and well. That was new.”
“You’re not telling me your parents kicked you out for that.”
“For ‘inability to continue the bloodline’ is how they put it. If I can’t make a biological successor, then I can’t take the chair.”
“Gods. I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“They didn’t kick me out on my ass,” Tarron said. “Just demoted me. Named my younger brother the new successor. He’d made it clear his intention to marry and procreate, so that was that.”
“How’d you handle it?”
“I took it, for a while,” Tarron said, swirling his wine in his glass and looking into it like it had answers. “Then I basically told them where they could stick their demotion and flew to the city to figure myself out. Spent some time with a mercenary guild. Decided I wasn’t a fan of almost dying every week. Stopped. Got a menial day job. Met you. End of story.”
“Well, the now of the story. Not the end.”
Tarron took a sip. “The funniest part of it all is – I’m also attracted to drakaina. Basically, I think…everyone’s got fun bits that are nice to poke at. Gods that was…did I say that out loud?”
“You did,” Rax said, smirking. “But I liked it.”
“But my point is that I could continue the bloodline. What I objected to was my parents’ rejection of this side of me. I didn’t want them to love only the part of me they found useful.”
“Fair.”
“Alright, Rax. That’s my life story. What’s yours?”
Enjoying your dragon tail(tale) and hope to see more