Finally, after so many days that had been windy, rainy, or just plain dreary, the sun was shining and the air was warm. Whisper perched on the windowsill, wing-arms spread, back to the sun, and luxuriated in it. The little wyvern could fly in cold, windy, or rainy weather, but it wasn’t very pleasurable beyond the mere fact of getting out of the house, and he’d always come right back in to huddle by the fire. Being able to actually enjoy the weather again was so welcome.

He stretched up to curl his thumb-claws over the window casing, letting his wings relax yet still enjoy being outstretched before the sun, and cast his gaze over the room’s other occupant. Cedric was dozing now, but he’d been up before the sun rose, tending to the chores demanded of an apprentice sorcerer. Obviously the day had been well on its way to warming up when he came back here for his nap, because he hadn’t even bothered pulling the covers over himself; he’d just stripped down, sprawled out, and gone to sleep.

The day was well along now, and Whisper’s shadow fell mostly on the floor just in front of him. At the time Cedric had gone to sleep, though, the sun was streaming in, covering much of the bed; it was that warmth that had roused Whisper fully from his slumber. He hadn’t really taken the time then to appreciate the sight, which was a bit of a shame, really, because by the shards of his own egg did he ever enjoy looking upon his partner.

When Cedric had first called out for a spirit-partner, what his fellows in the world of studied magic called a “familiar,” those peers had called him lucky to get Whisper’s attention. Not that a little blue wyvern was anything like a “proper” dragon, they’d said, but it was almost as good. Not that any of them had ever seen a “proper” dragon at all, nor would they ever, because the things didn’t exist — at least not in the explored world. The whole image of them had probably come from someone seeing a large sort of wyvern and not quite getting a proper look. Actual scholars knew it, but still the legends kept on.

But no, as far as Whisper was concerned, he was the lucky one. Lucky to have encountered someone with a zest for life that matched his own; someone friendly and kind, not like so many of his peers, always watching for weakness to exploit, even among themselves. Someone who’d seen a small creature named Whisper Of The Morning Breeze and not thought to impose a name of his own choosing; who’d viewed the wyvern not as a pet to be kept or a servant to be commanded, but a companion to be treasured. He’d taken Whisper from a life of solitude and offered instead a chance to be truly connected, one soul to another. No matter the distance between them, even if the other was asleep, each was always aware of the other’s presence. Never again would either of them be alone.

Not that Cedric lacked for offers of company. The hare wasn’t quite the ideal of masculinity as far as the villagers were concerned – their favourites were bulky, top-heavy, and ungainly in Whisper’s eyes. But he was active and fit; much as he liked his books, whether they held truth and lore or fantastic tales, he wasn’t content with them. He always wanted to see what lay over the horizon, around the next bend, in the coming day. He was lithe, lean, and limber, lightly-built yet with wiry power, and that was a look Whisper could very much appreciate.

Especially since his dreams had taken a turn for the interesting. The details didn’t come across their bond – only when they were both attentive to it could either actually sense the other’s specific sensations –but he could feel the warmth, the need, the excitement that made his member stand proud over his stomach.

Whisper shivered, shook out his wings, and jumped from the windowsill to the foot of the bed. With his head held low, he gazed up along the considerable length of the hare’s body; slim calves and toned thighs blanketed in short, fine brown fur, save for high up on his inner thighs where it turned creamy white; the even-finer white fuzz on his balls, plump and hanging loose in the warm sunlight; six delectable inches of pink penis, its thick head still half-shrouded in foreskin despite the drop of moisture clinging to its tip. One arm lay across the otherwise-flat expanse of white belly; beyond that, his chest offered somewhat more definition, accentuated by its slow rise and fall.

The lust from Cedric’s dreams helped spur along Whisper’s own, but by no means was it the sole cause. No, this was far from the first time the sight of his partner had made his heart quicken and his shaft slip free of his slit; it just felt like he was at full, achingly-hard attention even faster than normal.

Whisper leaned one wing on the hare’s sturdy thigh, his tongue darting forth, drawing in the scent of him. Cedric groaned softly, stirring, but while Whisper could feel through their bond that he was clawing towards wakefulness, he didn’t fully rouse just yet. Soon enough. That meant there were two things Whisper could savour in the meantime: the unusually nebulous stirrings of pleasure and desire through their bond, so diffuse as to be almost all-consuming, and the very concrete details of the man lying before him.

Another flick of his tongue sifted through the fine fur on Cedric’s balls, drawing in a welter of intensely masculine aromas. The next touched bare skin, gliding up along the hare’s erect shaft from the base to about halfway up. That definitely got his attention, a slight upwards jerk of his penis accompanied by a soft, surprised grunt. Anything but deterred, Whisper tilted his head and curled his tongue right around that warm pole — once around, almost twice; strain as he might, he couldn’t quite manage that second turn. Not without sacrificing the very pleasure of the act, at least.

Cedric’s hand settled atop Whisper’s neck, stroking along it — up, down, and up again, then shifting to rub at the base of his small, conical horns. He certainly wasn’t making any effort to dissuade his smaller partner, and so Whisper kept it up, loosening his grip a little bit so that he could slide his coiled tongue up and down the hare’s flesh. The man’s excitement was gaining focus as he woke up fully, just as eager for a bit of fun as Whisper himself, but while he shook off the last vestiges of sleep, he was content to let the wyvern set the pace.

There was so much hare to enjoy, Whisper couldn’t just stay in one place for too long. He clambered forward, right wing, then left, and that was enough to feel the heat of Cedric’s cock against his belly-scales. Cedric shivered and gasped, arching up off the bed somewhat. Whisper took the opportunity to splay his wings out and curl around his partner’s lithe body, nuzzling into his soft white chest-fur, his own sinuous body pressed down against fine, sun-warmed fur, a shiver of his own chasing through him as his needy length nestled against the hare’s thigh and balls.

Oh, he needed this so badly. Both of them did. And with the depth of that need, it wasn’t likely to last long for either of them once they really got going. But for the moment, Whisper savoured the sensations, his own and Cedric’s alike as the hare mentally reached out to him. For a minute or two, they rested together, even closer than the physical embrace.

Whisper couldn’t go for too long with that hot rod against his stomach and not want more, though. He lifted his head, nuzzling his partner’s wrist, and pulled himself up a bit further. His own slim, curvy rod slid against Cedric’s thicker pole; he hissed, Cedric grunted and arched up against him. And still Whisper pulled himself farther forward, until that thick piece rested between his hindlegs and against the base of his tail, its blunt tip nudging right up under the latter.

There was only one thing that had ever made Whisper wish he were something other than what he was, and that was the feel of that hot cock down there. He’d had a few chances to share how Cedric felt when another man slid under his short, fluffy spade of a tail; they’d done enough cautious experimentation together to know that Whisper would enjoy such pleasures himself. Had enjoyed them. But that had only ever been a careful finger; Whisper was just too small for Cedric to fuck him properly. No matter how much he ached for it, yearned to feel that hot cock inside him, the warm splash of the hare’s release deep inside, it just wouldn’t fit without doing him serious harm. And he couldn’t inflict that on the person he loved most dearly in all the world.

All of which didn’t make the yearning go away, especially not feeling him back there, so big, so hot, so tantalizingly close.

One of the hare’s hands cupped Whisper’s jaw, the other sliding along his neck. “Maybe someday,” he murmured. Simple words, but even if they hadn’t had such conversations before, Whisper could sense the intent under them. Transmutation magic wasn’t easy, and Cedric in particular struggled with envisioning something as other than it really was, to bring that vision into being; but he was still learning. Maybe in time, he’d be able to manage something that would let them be lovers in every respect.

For now, though, Whisper’s desire had awakened a similar need in Cedric, and the hare’s legs shifted, knees lifting, feet sliding up the sheets. His cock slid alongside Whisper’s tail and haunch, his fingers trailing down the wyvern’s spine.

Well, if they couldn’t do everything, they could still do plenty. And if he couldn’t get stuffed himself, he could still share in Cedric’s experience of it.

He accepted his partner’s direction, shifting his weight onto his hindlegs and rearing up, wings reaching up to curl his thumb-claws over his partner’s knees. Cedric grinned down at him, pushing up with one hand behind him, the other reaching down and in, curling around Whisper’s cock.

While Whisper could feel that Cedric enjoyed fondling him almost as much as he himself enjoyed being stroked, that wasn’t the point of this particular gesture. A tingling sensation awoke inside Whisper’s body, around the root of his shaft; and each upward stroke of the hare’s fingers drew out a measure of slick wetness. Maybe he couldn’t yet reshape either of their bodies, but he did know how to coax a bit of extra performance out of them, enough to make his cock quite slippery without needing to fuss with oils.

And since he had his hand on Whisper’s cock anyway, that made it quite easy for him to guide it under his balls and into him.

“Ah, fuck,” the hare hissed as that narrow tip found its mark and started spreading him open. “Fuck—c’mon, Whisper—” The words were almost redundant; Whisper could feel the excitement, the need for that hard flesh to push inside him, just as real as his own.

And since he couldn’t satisfy the one, what else could he do but dig his toes into the sheets, push forward, and satisfy the other?

No longer needed to guide Whisper’s shaft, Cedric’s hand found a new place on the wyvern’s rump instead, doing his part to bring the two together. His head dipped down, one tall ear brushing alongside Whisper’s jaw, his moan and the wyvern’s own keening whine mingling. Two sounds, two throats, one need; in that moment, Whisper forgot all about his own particular longing, and he knew not only Cedric’s fulfillment but his own. This was right; whatever else they might do together, or might have chosen to do even this time, right in that moment everything between them was right and good. The rush that swept through him, the surge of pleasure, the seed pumping out of him and into his soulmate—those were all very fine things themselves, but in the moment they just underscored that the two were together.

“Gods, yes,” Cedric breathed against Whisper’s shoulder. As his fingers slid up and down the wyvern’s spine, they were shaking—or was that only Whisper himself, shaking enough for both of them in the throes of his release? It didn’t matter; it was just one more sensation to treasure, right along with the hare’s thigh against his tail, the snug warmth around his cock, and Cedric’s own sense of the warm spire and warm, wet seed inside him, shared with relish across their bond.

As his ecstasy receded, the hare’s own simmering need came to dominate his attention, even before it came to the fore of Cedric’s own mind. Whisper knew well that his partner took longer to bring to a peak than he did, and neither of them had a problem with that; in fact, it made it that much easier for each to really savour the other’s climax. With his fading, now he craved Cedric’s; and so he dipped his head in between them, tongue darting forth to snatch a moist drop from the head of Cedric’s cock.

A spike of excitement drove through Cedric’s momentary lassitude, and with a soft kiss to the base of Whisper’s skull, he let himself lean back, out of the way. His legs stayed propped up and pressed against Whisper’s sides, but one hand took hold of his own cock, squeezing and stroking its shaft while Whisper lapped at its crown. If Cedric was of a mind to help him get his mouthful, who was he to complain? It wasn’t like he had hands.

Though he could do a little more than just lick. He was still hard inside his partner, and if his cock was smaller than the hare’s, it was still enough to reach some very nice places. Tilting his body just so and gently churning, he felt a sudden surge of sensation through their link, accompanied by a gasp, a sharp thrust, and a firm squeeze around that buried length.

His mouth was busy and he wasn’t about to stop what he was doing to speak, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t explicitly get his point across. He focused on one urgent thought – give it to me – before letting his mind turn to what he craved; the hot, sticky surge across his tongue, the cries—

He didn’t need to spend very long doing that before Cedric grunted and shoved upwards, his cock bucking against Whisper’s snout, spattering it with sticky white seed.

Sometimes, Whisper enjoyed how much of a mess his bigger partner could make. This time, though, that simply would not do. He snatched Cedric’s cockhead with his tongue and drew it right into his descending muzzle, suckling on it, tongue busily dancing a bit farther down. His snout pushed right down against the hare’s clenched fist as he drank down his partner’s thick spunk, shivers chasing through him that were born of some mixture of Cedric’s pleasure and his own satisfied delight. One spurt after another he swallowed, while Cedric squirmed and panted and moaned, giving himself over to pleasure.

That was the sort of moment Whisper wished could last forever, but even though it couldn’t, he was well-pleased by the time a trembling Cedric finally gave up his last drop and sank down against the bed, his breath starting to slow. Whisper lifted up and off his partner’s cock, lifted his head high, and let the last sticky drops slide down his tongue and throat. Only then did he ease his own retreating length the rest of the way out of the hare’s body and clamber a body-length upwards, nestling into the crook of one sprawled-out arm and tucking his snout against the hare’s neck. “I love you,” he hissed over Cedric’s jaw. “You complete me.”

“Love you,” Cedric mumbled back. “So glad you’re feeling better.”

With some measure of guilt, Whisper recalled that the last few chilly days had left him a bit sulky. But it was impossible to sink too deep into that sort of thought with the gentle post-sex bliss settling upon them both. “So am I,” he sighed, shifting to nestle in a bit closer still against the hare’s soft, sun-warm fur. For a moment, he tried to summon a few more words, but really, what more needed to be said? In this moment, they were together and they were happy.

Really, that was all that mattered.