This is my April Fool's.

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Araian’s skin was on fire – burning, melted glass running through his veins in place of blood, scorching, unbearable heat. Every brush of grass and air against his skin and scales was torture, unbelievable sensation shooting through him like a bullet to his brain.

Araian writhed, unable to bear everything running through him. Sea-green eyes were hazed, glazed with all-consuming lust that darkened the colour of his irises as he panted, each twist of his tail heightening the sensitivity of his skin, until just a brush of a leaf against his scales elicited a moan, desperate and wanton as he pleaded with the universe for release. His cock had slipped from its hidden sheath with the rising of the sun, and it pulsed against his stomach, hard and throbbing as he tore at the ground with clawed fingers, wailing in agonized pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he understood why the older Nagini warriors had urged him to find a Bearer this year, warning him of the mindless state the mating season reduced Nagini males to.

"This year, you are old enough to slip into the lust-trance," they had told him, pointing to the slick path of armor-plate scales that lined from the centre of his waist straight down to the end of his tail, different to the silken scales that adorned the rest of his snake-half. They had slowly formed towards the beginning of the summer, and he'd been incredibly proud of them, the hard plates like polished silver against the rest of his star-white scales. "You will need someone, or else the lust may shatter your mind."

Heeding the warning, he'd agreed to pair with a beautiful, if somewhat shy, Naga girl from a good family. They'd gotten to know one another during the summer, and he was sure he liked her – her tail a gorgeous copper, softly burnished as if polished, and she was well-learned, which took some of the pressure off; it meant he didn't have to tip-toe around her ignorance, but could freely talk about his lessons with his tutors.

Her name was Jaxson, and she'd agreed, smiling shyly, to go through the season with him.

If only he hadn't gotten cold feet…Fugitively speaking, of course. Because the fact was, while Jaxson was pleasing to look upon, he held no attraction to her. He'd almost wished his armour-scales had arrived next year, or the year after, so that he had more time to find someone…find someone special.
So he'd gone for a swim. Just trying to clear his head by dunking it underwater in the moonlight, as he'd done a hundred times.

Only, that night, a storm had come up out of no where.

He'd been tossed and thrashed and twisted in the raging waves, thrown like a child's toy into the air, terrified – and, finally, he'd crashed into an underwater reef and blacked out.

He'd thought he'd be all right, when he woke to find himself on a golden-sanded beach. True, he wasn't on his own island – but it was still night, and he'd be able to get home in no time. His season probably wouldn't start for another week anyway – so he lay back and tried to get his breath back, checking for cuts or broken ribs.

Unharmed, and feeling lucky, he'd drifted off to sleep after making his way off the beach, not wanting to risk running into any of the deadly currents in the dark just as much as he wanted to avoid any late-night fishermen. He'd been sure he could make the trip back tomorrow.

Inexperienced, he didn't spot the warning signs his body was giving him, didn't realize his season was knocking at the door. The strange stiffness in his tail he put down to the night's abuse; the swollen, sensitive area around his sheath was probably irritation from the sand; and the strange heightening in his senses – not just tactile, but taste, smell and sound – was just a reaction to the adrenalin the storm had summoned in him.

He woke in agony.

Everything in him screamed for another, for him to encase another in his thick, white tail and impale them, hard, upon his cock; for him to plunge into tight, wet heat again and again, holding them bruising tight. He wanted to impregnate them, for his seed to catch and germinate and turn into life's most exquisite creation within the cocoon of their flesh; the very thought was enough to make him wail again as he writhed, his lips bleeding as he bit back a scream as a jolt of white-hot pleasure ran through him, bright as a sunbeam.

He needed, oh Gods, how he needed!

Suddenly, a scent snapped his head to the side, nostrils flaring as his eyes narrowed. Whiplash-like, he turned onto his front, moaning at the rough stimulation to his cock as it rubbed over the ground before he straightened, raising up on his tail until he stood a little under six feet off the ground.
Something warm. Blood under skin, beating through veins in a calm, unhurried rhythm; the faint sweetness of breath and the salty tang of sweat.
His whole body shuddered – harp-string anticipation, trembling ecstasy he just couldn't control.

He could hear them now, with his sharply-pointed ears. Light footsteps, the brush of cloth on cloth as clothed legs brushed against each other. The whisper of hair, the soft puff of breath from a fit body – his hands convulsed into fists as he imagined running his hands over sun-tanned skin – the crack and rustle of twigs and leaves as they walked through the forest.

It felt like he was boned with lightning. Like his flesh was still-cooling glass stretched over a frame of fire and thunder.

The first flash of colour through the trees, red and blue and dark, chocolate brown – and without thought, he struck, his tail whipping forward to curl in an instant around a Human form, dragging the creature towards him, ignoring the startled cry and the frantic struggling as he brought the Human to his chest.
The warmth was soothing, calming, and the desperate haze retreated a little from his mind even as trapped arms tried to beat against his tail. Wrapped in his coils, the creature he'd caught couldn't feel his arousal, but that apparently wasn't its cause for concern – it still tried to fight him, kicking out with sandaled feet and tossing its spiked head from side to side furiously.

Ignoring that, Araian buried his face in blond locks, inhaling deeply – and he groaned, the scent of cinnamon and sea-salt, honey and warm, heated blood like a drug to his senses, the silk of the Human's hair brushing over his cheeks, his closed eyes.

This was Paradise...

"P-please let me go!" The creature stammered, and the scent of salt grew stronger – it was crying. "P-please!"

The words didn't register in the Naga's mind – the mind-set of his season didn't readily allow him to understand speech or language – but he sensed the emotions pouring from the Human's skin, could taste them on his snake-forked tongue; fear, panic, desperation and terror.

Wanting to soothe his soon-to-be lover, Araian leant down, his arms wrapping around the creature's lithe form, strong and protecting. He brushed his velvet-scaled lips over the Human's forehead, kissing the silken, sweat-licked hair line, the cinnamon-scented spikes, and, feeling the Human sob, trembling, he tenderly licked away the tears – the forked tip of his tongue laving at the shining trails marked on the Human's cheeks, following them to the sky-blue eyes and lapping at the tears clinging to dark, graceful eyelashes, carefully chasing each one.

Pulling back, he let the Human see a single diamond-tear clutched in the curl of his tongue, carefully cupped – the delicious salty taste was driving him mad – before he flickered it into his mouth, letting the taste coat the inside of his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, but he bit back his moan as he let his head fall forward, trying not to scare his Other.

He heard a sniffle, and he brushed his cheek against his Other's, nuzzling into the side of the golden hair.

"W-what…What are you going to do with me?"

The haze was starting to come back – the presence of warmth encased in his coils could only do so much, and he was starting to ache, starting to lose it again. But just before he went under, he heard his voice murmuring in a strangely un-pointed ear…

"I'm going to teach you how to fly…"

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Cont....