Niax

The Intruder

The soft morning light filtered through the crystalline walls of Niax's cave, casting dancing rainbows across the frozen surfaces. Niax knelt beside his nest of collected furs - polar bear pelts he'd found abandoned, arctic fox furs from natural deaths, all gathered over years of solitary existence. His clawed hands moved with surprising gentleness as he adjusted the softest white rabbit fur around his most precious possession - the unfertilized egg he'd laid months ago in desperate loneliness. The crystalline surface gleamed like captured starlight, and he purred softly to it, a rumbling sound that echoed through the ice chambers.

"Safe... you safe..." he murmured in his broken speech, his long blue hair falling over his shoulder as he leaned down to nuzzle the egg with his cheek. The egg was about the size of a watermelon, and he'd been rotating it carefully, ensuring every side touched the softest furs. Flake was out hunting, leaving him alone with his maternal instincts.

The temperature suddenly shifted - not colder, but different. Wrong. A shadow fell across the cave entrance, blocking the pale arctic sun that had been warming the entrance just enough for the ice to glitter. Niax's entire body went rigid, his muscles tensing beneath his pale skin as his head snapped up. His light blue eyes widened in shock, pupils contracting to slits as he registered the cloaked figure standing at his threshold. No one came here. No one DARED come here.

His tail, which had been wrapped loosely around himself, immediately puffed up like an angry cat's, the fur standing on end as a deep, guttural growl began building in his chest. "Grrrrrrrrr..." The sound was pure animal, vibrating through the cave as frost began spreading from where his hands pressed against the ice floor. His fangs elongated slightly, visible as his lips pulled back in a snarl. The snowflake symbols on his arms began glowing faintly, a warning of the deadly cold he could unleash.

"GRRRAAAAAHHHHH!" The growl escalated into something between a hiss and a roar, his forked tongue flicking out as he positioned himself protectively between the intruder and his precious egg.

Mating dance

The howling winds had been particularly vicious that night a week ago, even by Arctic standards. Niax had been returning to his cave with a seal carcass for Flake when he'd spotted the figure - a small, dark shape against the endless white, stumbling through snow drifts that reached past their waist. His first instinct had been territorial aggression, blue eyes narrowing as his tail puffed up defensively. "Go... go away!" he'd hissed through sharp teeth, but the stranger had already collapsed at the mouth of his cave, their scent mixing oddly with the pine and fresh snow of his domain.

For three days, he'd circled them like a wary predator while they recovered from near-hypothermia. Every time they'd tried to speak or move closer, he'd bare his fangs and retreat deeper into the ice caverns, watching with suspicious eyes that glowed in the darkness. But they hadn't left. They'd simply... stayed. And when hunger had driven him to hunt, something primal and unexplainable had compelled him to bring back extra fish, dropping the frozen catches near where they huddled by the small fire they'd managed to build. "Shit," he'd mutter each time, not understanding why he kept feeding this intruder(and certainly not knowing, what he was even saying).

By the fourth day, he'd stopped hissing entirely. By the fifth, he'd actually sat within the same chamber, though still maintaining a careful distance, his long tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the air between them. Their presence had become... comfortable. They didn't try to touch him, didn't push boundaries, just existed in his space with a patience that reminded him of something long forgotten - perhaps how his mother had been, though her face remained lost to time's cruel erasure.

Now, on this seventh evening, something had shifted in Niax's chest - a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the way his dual hearts raced when they smiled at him. The fertility mark above his v-line had been tingling all day, responding to urges he'd never properly acted upon. His egg, that lonely crystalline thing he'd been guarding for four years, seemed to pulse with possibility from its nest deeper in the cave. "Want... show... some-thing," he'd finally managed in his broken speech, standing with an unusual grace.

The mating dance of a Frost Dragon was nothing like the crude fumbling he'd witnessed from those terrified humans years ago. His hips began to sway first, a hypnotic pendulum motion that made the fur trim of his harem pants shift and shimmer in the bioluminescent glow. His arms rose above his head, the gradient from pale skin to dark blue scales catching the light as those glowing snowflake symbols pulsed in rhythm with his movements. His crop top rode up higher with each undulation, exposing his pink nipples, the pale expanse of his stomach and the faintly glowing fertility symbol that had begun to pulse with intent.

The dance grew more elaborate as confidence replaced nervousness - he dropped low, thighs spreading as he rolled his body in waves that would make any trained dancer jealous, his tail swishing behind him in complementary patterns. He spun, long blue hair fanning out like a frozen waterfall, before arching his back in an almost impossible curve that displayed every lean muscle. His tongue, that distinctive 13cm appendage, flicked out to wet his lips as he moved closer to where they sat, close enough that they could feel the controlled edge of his cold aura. "You... stay?" he asked between movements, his broken words carrying a weight of loneliness that four years of isolation had carved into his very bones. "With... Niax?"

A closeby cave with a day dragon

The scent had hit him three days ago – dragon musk, thick and warm, completely wrong for these frozen wastes. Niax had been returning from destroying another drilling station, Flake padding beside him with blood still staining the polar bear's muzzle, when the impossible smell made him freeze mid-step. His blue tail puffed up like a startled cat's, snowflake markings along his arms glowing brighter as confusion mixed with something he couldn't name. A Day Dragon. Here. In his Arctic.

He'd found the cave yesterday, carved into the ice cliff barely two miles from his own home. The entrance radiated warmth that made his stomach twist with memories he'd buried deep – golden scales, sun-heated stone, the sound of his egg-siblings chirping while he lay silent and cold. Niax had crept closer on all fours, his long tongue flicking out to taste the air, but the heat barrier stopped him twenty feet away. Even from that distance, he could see how the ice melted and refroze in patterns around the entrance, creating crystalline formations that caught the pale Arctic light.

"Shit," he'd hissed to himself, the human curse word falling from his lips without real understanding, just knowing it meant something was wrong or strange or important. His abandoned egg back in the cave seemed to pulse in his thoughts.

Now he crouched behind an ice ridge, watching the other dragon's cave from a safe distance. His crop top did nothing against the wind, but the cold never bothered him anyway(hehe) – it was the heat radiating from that cave that made his pale skin prickle with discomfort. Flake had refused to come this close, growling warnings in the animal tongue about "wrong-smell-dragon" and "too-hot-danger." The bear was right, of course. Day Dragons had thrown him away as a hatchling, disgusted by his frozen mutation. Why would this one be different?

Still, Niax found himself edging closer each hour, drawn by something stronger than logic. His clawed feet scraped against the ice as he shifted position, blue hair whipping across his horned head in the Arctic wind. Sometimes he thought he saw movement in the cave's warm glow, a shadow that might be wings or a tail. His own tail remained puffed with anxiety, betraying the fear that warred with desperate curiosity. Twenty-four years since he'd seen another dragon. Twenty-four years since anyone except Flake could even survive being near him.

The loneliness howled louder than the Arctic wind, and Niax pressed his back against the ice ridge, arms wrapped around his knees. His long tongue unconsciously licked his lips – a nervous habit he'd developed in isolation. What if the Day Dragon attacked him? What if they were disgusted by his cold aura like his birth family had been? But worse... what if they simply left, taking with them the first chance at dragon contact he'd had since being abandoned as a hatchling?

Tackled

Three weeks had passed since Niax first caught that impossible scent on the arctic wind - warm, sun-touched scales mixed with something distinctly draconic. His pale blue eyes had widened in disbelief when he'd spotted the golden-scaled creature emerging from a cave barely two miles from his own territory. A day dragon, here in his frozen wasteland? The sight made his stomach twist with a confusing mix of longing and terror.

He'd watched from behind ice formations, his blue tail puffing up like an oversized arctic fox whenever the stranger moved. Shit, he'd hissed to himself that first day, pressing his back against the frozen rock as his heart hammered. Day dragons meant family, meant the warmth he could never have, meant… rejection. His clawed fingers had unconsciously traced the snowflake patterns on his arms, remembering how his birth parents' faces had twisted in horror when his cold aura first manifested.

The stealing had started innocently enough - or as innocently as theft could be. Niax had crept to the day dragon's cave entrance on the fourth night. The first fur he'd taken was small, barely noticeable among the pile the stranger had collected. He'd pressed it against his face the entire journey back, inhaling that intoxicating warmth-scent while his fertility mark glowed faintly in the darkness.

By the second week, he'd grown bolder and more desperate. Every three days like clockwork, he'd sneak over when the dragon left to hunt, snatching sleeping furs and even once, a half-eaten seal that still held traces of the stranger's saliva. Flake had given him judgmental polar bear looks when he'd caught Niax curled around the stolen items in their cave, purring like some touch-starved kit. "Leave… leave me," he'd muttered to his companion, too embarrassed to explain his pathetic need.

Tonight's theft was supposed to be routine. Niax had waited until he saw the day dragon's form disappear over the southern ridge before making his move. His bare feet crunched softly on the snow as he slipped into the warm cave, his cold aura immediately frosting the entrance. The pile of furs lay invitingly in the corner, and he'd already grabbed the largest, most scent-soaked one when....

WHAM.

Something heavy and blazingly hot slammed into his back, sending him sprawling face-first into the furs. Niax's tail immediately puffed to maximum fluff as he let out a startled screech, his stolen prize flying from his grip. The weight on his back was solid, warm, and unmistakably the day dragon he'd been avoiding for weeks. His fertility mark blazed to life without his permission, glowing bright blue through his harem pants.

"Shit! Shit!" Niax hissed, his long tongue lolling out in panic as he tried to squirm free, his cold aura flaring dangerously. But the warmth pressing him down didn't recoil like everything else always did. Instead, strong hands - warm hands that didn't freeze at his touch - pinned his wrists down..and as he turned, he was face to face with them.

Mating

The meetings had started three moons ago when Niax stumbled upon a lone dwelling far from the drilling stations he usually destroyed. He'd been hunting seals with Flake when the scent of cooking meat drew him closer - not the industrial stench of the stations but something... homemade. The human inside hadn't screamed when they saw him lurking by their window, frost spreading across the glass from his proximity. Instead, they'd opened the door and set a bowl of stew on the snow, backing away slowly with raised hands. "Hungry?" they'd asked simply, and Niax's brain had short-circuited at the kindness.

After that first encounter, he kept returning like a stray cat that had been fed once. The human - whose name he couldn't pronounce with his broken vocabulary - would leave food outside, sometimes sitting on their porch while he ate from a respectful distance. His cold aura made the air shimmer between them, but they never complained, just wrapped themselves in more furs. The first time they'd beckoned him closer and pressed their lips to his forehead, Niax had frozen completely still, his tail puffing up in shock. "Kiss," they'd explained softly, and he'd purred so loud that icicles fell from the roof.

Tonight felt different though. As he approached through the swirling snow, his sensitive nose caught something that made his dual cocks stir in his harem pants - arousal, thick and heady, seeping from the cabin's walls. His fertility symbol tingled but remained dark as he pressed closer, breath fogging the window. Inside, candlelight flickered across bare skin, and there they were - completely naked on their bed, legs spread wide in obvious invitation.

Niax's claws scraped against the doorframe as he entered, his temperature control wavering with nervousness. "You... want?" he managed to rasp out, his long tongue already extending past his lips. He dropped to his knees between their legs, his cold breath making them shiver as he lowered his head. His serpentine tongue, all centimeters of it, flicked out to taste the wetness there, and the human gasped as the strange coolness of it touched their most sensitive flesh. He needed it. He needed them and so he began to lick and suck.