Embers - Chapter Thirteen (sfw) (Patreon)

Hey folks! I wasn't able to post yesterday because I was driving, so I'm sorry it's a day late. This is probably the penultimate chapter in this series now... Hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to let me know if you do by dropping a click on the heart or leaving me a comment. 

Here's 1.6k or so words, featuring our boy in that form you've all been wanting to see since the start... 

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Mikaeïl’s request that you ‘bring something warm to wear’ for your weekend with him confused and mystified the hell out of you. Added to that, he absolutely refused to give you any more information about it, so you found yourself driving over to his house with a number of different jumpers and coats packed, and a knot of anxious tension in your stomach. 

It didn’t help that he’d texted you before you’d set off to say, ‘When you get here, come round the side of the house to the back terrace.’ And that had been it. 

So, dutifully, you followed the gravel path around the side of his huge, sandstone, ancestral mansion, and emerged onto the upper lawns.

At the sight that greeted you, your fingers lost their strength and you dropped your weekend-bag to the ground. 

Standing on the lawn, resting his huge, coppery wing on the thumb joint like a bat, was a gleaming wyvern. Large, perhaps thirty foot tall when he drew his head up to its full height, with metallic scales the same colour as those you’d seen on his human body, ranging from bright copper to tarnished bronze and even gold along the crest of his back, Mikaeïl was stunning.

Drawn by the movement of your arrival, he watched you fall still and stare openly at him, though a soft, familiar, low-frequency rumbling pervaded the whole garden, and the sound of it stirred you back to life. 

Leaving your bag where it lay abandoned on the sunny gravel path, you walked over to him with awe etched onto your face, and breathed, “Mikaeïl?”

The wyvern nodded once, slowly, golden eyes glinting. 

“Can you talk when you’re like this?” you asked as you continued to approach him. 

“I can talk,” he said, though his voice was different. It still had all the delicate enunciation of the Mikaeïl you knew, but it was richer, far more sonorous, and much deeper. 

When you were standing beside him, you raised your palm, barely noticing the trembling excitement in your fingers, and pressed it gently against his cool scales. 

He lowered his head and sank his body to the ground, lying down for you like a colossal dog while you just explored the miraculous strangeness of his incredible body. “You’re so beautiful…” you whispered. Two horns curved back over his head, the same ruby-red, flecked with gold, that you knew from his other form, only they were so much larger like this. 

“God, Mikaeïl,” you chuckled in wonderment. “You are just so beautiful…” He was; fabergé looked like they could have taken inspiration from him for one of their unbelievable creations. 

If wyverns could blush, you suspected Mikaeïl might well have done. As it was, his nostrils flared, and his head shied away slightly, showing off the beautiful array of spikes at the edges of his jaw and head, and he rumbled something again more deeply. In response, you put your palm on his deep chest and felt the vibrations of it shiver through you. 

Suddenly, the penny dropped about the clothing, and your eyes went wide. “Mikaeïl… when you said to bring warm stuff to wear… You’re not… We’re… We’re not going to…”

A slow, deep laugh rolled out of him and he shifted his weight slightly, drawing your eye from his glimmering scales - each one like hand-hammered bronze - down to his clawed hind feet and the tip of his wing which rested on a single, massive, taloned thumb. While you waited for his reply, your fingers wandered to the leathery, sunset-yellow membrane of his wing, right near the knuckle which propped him up, and a shudder ran through him, all the way to his barbed tail. 

“Sensitive?” you murmured with a wry smile. 

“Mmm,” he rumbled, lowering his head and slowly, luxuriantly, inhaling the scent of your skin right by your neck. “How do you feel about going for a short flight?” he asked softly. 

“Honestly…?” you said breathlessly, “I have no idea. I’ve never, uh… flown before. I mean, not like that…”

“Test flight?” he asked. 

“Please tell me that you don’t have spines on your back because I’m not sitting on that and trying to cling on…”

Mikaeïl laughed his rich, deep laugh and said, “Take a closer look at the junction of my neck and shoulders…” 

He rolled slightly towards you but still you couldn’t see the top of his back properly, so in the end he had to help you up with his wing like a leg-up onto a horse. His back was smooth for perhaps a foot and a half between the end of his sinuous neck and the start of his back - the perfect space for someone to sit. You ran your hand over the space and he shivered again.  

“It’s like it was made for someone to sit here,” you commented. 

“Not quite,” he said dryly, “But my family were royal guards, a thousand years ago - which is why we have three forms: human, half human, and this. We have been known to carry royalty into battle or over long distances…”

“Royalty,” you cooed as he lowered you back to the ground. “Nice… You sure I’m worthy? I’ve never even sat on a motorbike, let alone a wyvern…”

Again, Mikaeïl laughed at your sense of humour, and nuzzled his nose affectionately against your stomach while you rubbed his forehead. His head was as big as a small couch and it was going to take some getting used to, but he was so damned gorgeous that you could hardly process the fact that this magnificent creature was the Mikaeïl you’d come to know. 

“Put on a coat to keep warm while we fly, and I’ll take you for a little trial run… if you like. You don’t have to though…”

“You’ve got something else planned though, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But it’s alright if you don’t want to fly there.”

“No, let’s try it,” you said, as you scuttled back to your bag and dug out the warmest coat you had. You imagined that with the wind rushing past you, even on such a sunny day, it would be cold. 

And you were right. 

You clambered warily onto his back, settling yourself in the smooth crook of his shoulders, nestled at the base of his neck and the start of his hugely muscular wings. Conveniently, he had two large horn-like spikes at the base of his neck, to which you clung for dear life as he began to flap his wings, trying to get some lift. You clamped your thighs around him as tightly as you could and leaned forward, honestly terrified. 

“I won’t let you hurt yourself,” he promised and then you lurched upwards into the sky. 

The ground rushed away beneath you and he continued to rise in jerky movements that made your stomach churn and drop each time. Eventually he had climbed as high as the roof of the mansion, and began to glide, the canvas of his great wings spread to catch the air, and you tried hard not to lose your breakfast all over his beautiful scales. 

Mikaeïl did one lap of the parkland of his property and then began to descend gradually, spiralling down until the ground rushed up to meet you and he landed with a jolt that his body absorbed before it could throw you from your tenuous position atop his back. 

“Alright?” he asked nervously, tilting his head to one side to see you out of the corner of his golden eye. 

Taking a moment to catch your breath, with your heart still pounding in your ears, you nodded and swallowed. “Yeah,” you croaked. It had felt like a rollercoaster ride, only much, much wilder. “That was… amazing…!”

His laugh rippled through you and he said, “Why don’t you stow your bag in the conservatory, and if you could lock up, that would be amazing. Then if you’re alright with it, I want to take you somewhere a little further away.”

You nodded, slithering and landing weak-kneed on the grass beside him.  “Come here first,” you said, crooking your finger and beckoning his head closer. 

He obliged, curious and amusedly wary, and when his muzzle was level with your face, you took his smooth, leathery head in your hands and kissed him squarely on the tip of his nose. His laugh came out as a warm blast of air through his nostrils, ruffling your hair, and you laughed too as he closed his eyes for a moment, clearly enjoying the closeness and the contact. 

Nudging you playfully away after a minute or so, he rumbled happily, the sound halfway between an alligator and an elephant, only much deeper and louder, and you trotted off to do as he requested. 

Once back, you ran your hands over his shoulder and chest again, letting the deep, appreciative sounds thrum through you, and watching as he closed his eyes again in pleasure. “You’re going to cause trouble if you keep touching me like that,” he said eventually. “And then I won’t be able to fly.”

“Not decently, anyway,” you grinned and he shook his head, laughter dancing in his yellow eyes. 

“Get back on board and we’ll go before you render me incapable of flight altogether.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” you asked coyly and were met with a snarl that held no danger. 

“Get. On.” he said but the fierceness of his tone was ruined by the laugh that bubbled out of him immediately afterwards. 

“Fine,” you pouted, and clambered back on his back the same way you’d done before.  

With a final glance up at you, those eyes turned serious and he said, “Are you ready? Comfortable?”

“Yeah. How long will we be in the air?”

“About twenty minutes,” he said. “You let me know if you need me to land though, alright?”

You nodded, and he turned his attention away from you, hind claws gripping the earth as his great leathery wings, the colour of saffron, began to beat again, and he lifted skywards once again. 

To be continued... 

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