Divinity (Naga/Robin)

	Surely this was blasphemy. It had to be sacrilege of the highest order to petition a god for more assistance after she had done 'all that was in her power' to help. To a man, the shepherds held their breath, waiting for a bolt of lightning or dragonfire to incinerate Robin where he stood, hands clasped and standing tall, staring Naga in the eye as the others watched him. The Divine Dragon and Grima's Vessel stared each other in the eye, unflinching. Eventually, the Dragon moved first after long minutes of held breath, breaking into a placid smile. "Very well, Fellblood. I am old and spent, yet I shall aid you directly on the battlefield. We must all come together to defeat the scourge that is Grima, after all." Ignoring the unsubtle jab, Robin let a smile of his own tentatively show. "Excellent, Naga. We are grateful indeed for your decision." At least thirty individual relieved sighs could be heard throughout the Awakening Chamber, the tension almost visibly evaporating from the amassed army of present and future soldiers. "Of course Fellblood, I have some questions for you when you have a moment..." Stiffening imperceptibly, Robin's face locked up into an unnatural facsimile of a smile for an instant before returning to his default expression of pleasant indifference. "Of course, holy one. First, though, we should leave this sacred place before we foul it further with our presence." Accompanied by a nod of assent from Chrom, the shepherds filed out in an undisciplined crowd, slowly working their way down the mountain to their base camp -- but accompanied by one more than they came with.
	Along the way, Naga asked her questions, or, he thought, rather pelted him with them. Their one unifying trait was being about him or the current state of the world, but beyond that they were as numerous as the stars and just as varied. From his origins (he didn't know and was wondering when people would stop asking) to how he had met her Chosen (Chrom replied for him on that one), to probably relevant ones like his knowledge and use of dark magic (he answered more honestly than he would with most on that one; he was frighteningly good at it) to almost strangely off-topic; What was his favorite color (he was partial to a light purple, but green was nice too) his knowledge of Grimleal doctrine regarding meat (surprisingly they weren't huge fans, according to her) and who the current head of the Ylissean Church was (he had no idea, and telling a god that was probably blasphemous as she chose the head of the church anyway.) After roughly the ninetieth question, he had a question of his own for her, interrupting a somewhat long-winded question about the terms of his employment and his payscale. "Why does all of this matter ? Don't you know all of this anyway?" Naga smiled in a way that would have seemed condescending on anyone else but was somehow kind on her radiant (literally) face. "Indeed. But it was not the answer that matters, merely the manner of answering." Chrom gave a short laugh at that one, loud enough for the rest of the column to hear, and then the three (four, if you counted Lucina, trailing shortly behind them) fell into silence, Chrom and Robin carefully navigating their way down the steep cliff with Naga floating a few inches off the ground besides them.
	He was pretty sure that ploy was doomed to failure, he mused. Out of all the surprises that month, easily the largest was how easy it had been to convince Naga, a divine entity that refused to call herself a god, to follow them about and actually help them in combat, rather than just giving Chrom a sacred weapon and deeming him 'blessed' enough. He'd read enough in the history books and mythic tales to know that was how things usually went -- so what made this time different? She hadn't descended from on high to help the Hero-King with his sealing of Grima. A thorny problem, and one he internally struggled with on the way down the mountain. Of course, reaching base camp a multitude of other problems immediately made themselves apparent, usually by someone running to him or Chrom for help (Chrom usually passed those onto him, the layabout.) It took him an hour to sort out the various problems people needed fixed, from the minor (they were out of fresh tomatoes for stew that night) to the actually somewhat major (Risen had attacked while they were out, wounding Donnel before the others defending the camp could fend them off) and he could return to the ever-familiar task of getting a new member settled in (though mostly these days they were the children who were more soldier than any child should be) and without Chrom had to undergo the unenviable task of interviewing Naga about her skills.
	After an illuminating discussion on the nature of divinity with the god sitting across from him at his desk in the command post, the interview had gone surprisingly normally. Aside from the fact that she stood a foot taller than the tallest person in the army and was probably more powerful than a good half of the army even in her weakened and depleted state, she had a fairly normal range of skills for a Manakete (dragon, she corrected him gently, there is a difference) and much like her descendants she was generally skilled at pretty much everything, and competent at everything else. She did mention that she was terribly out of practice with most of her, everything, really. It had been millenia since she had taken to the field for almost anything, so he'd probably need to be careful fielding her to wipe out an entire battalion on her own. Still, the most difficult part was finding her an appropriate tent. They hadn't brought an extra, what with most of the children bringing their own and them not expecting to bring anyone new back from the Awakening Ritual. In addition, she was just... big. Not in the gentle way one referred to women who didn't get out enough, she was just tall like no one would believe, nearly seven and a half feet tall, towering over even Walhart. The standard tent size flat would not fit her, unless she felt like curling into a ball every time she entered the tent. Eventually, Robin reluctantly assigned her the chapel-tent that Libra had operated since the start of the Valmese war, figuring that it was her property regardless. Naga had agreed that it was probably a good decision, but she had seemed somehow... disappointed? He wasn't sure how to read a god, so maybe he was just imagining things...

	There was so little time to waste. Grima's power was building as they waited, but it was impossible for them to strike now. They needed an opening, and for that they needed an actual army rather than a ragtag group of misfits that barely numbered fifty among them, including a few of their former enemies and at least three people who should be dead. So, the shepherds amassed allies once more. The Feroxi armies were easy enough to gather, what with the technical leaders of their nation being part of aforementioned group of misfits. The Valmese armies were much further away and would likely be reluctant to aid them if Say'ri was not there to lead them herself, and so across the great sea they were bound, to gather another army of possible traitors and opportunistic malcontents. Unfortunately the scum of the world had taken the advent of the apocalypse as a sign that now was the time to attack the weak and helpless. Not a day passed where they ran into bandits, some searching for victims and biting off more than they could chew, or worse preying upon farmers and commoners, whereupon the Shepherds would come after them in full force. A welcome distraction, Robin mused as he flayed the life from a ruffian who had made the mistake of harming those weaker than himself for his own gain. The lightning crackled under his hands for a few moments after the fool had stopped twitching before Robin let go of the spell, turning to his companion who had finished doing the same (in a vastly different manner, admittedly) a few moments ago. Naga looked back at him with a flat face, tight-lipped as she always was in combat. She always requested to fight by his side after the first time they had fought together to 'see how the fellblood fights'. He caught her watching him when she thought he wasn't looking, and sometimes while he was.
	She carefully dodged any questions he posed about her interest in him, instead redirecting the questions to more almost irrelevant facts about himself. Talking like her was alternatively comforting and enjoyable, like talking to an old friend who knew you as well as yourself, or it was like talking to a brick wall that had a face. Very, very rarely (usually after combat) his questions would be met with answers that he never wanted to hear, answers almost irrelevant but terrifying nonetheless, answers that she gave with a tired face and eyes like murky pools with no bottom. When he asked about the battle she would reply with the names of everyone she had killed that day, along with their birthplaces, birthdates, and names of living relatives. If he asked what she thought about their war against the Grimleal and Grima, she would tell him of all the religions that had started and faded away, the small gods condemned to obscurity for lack of faithful. When Naga was like this she reminded Robin very much of her descendants, but more somehow. When Nowi spoke he could occasionally feel her age as she talked about owners past, the sheer number staggering in it's enormousness. When Tiki lectured on history to the children and the uneducated among them the weight of history in fallen empires that she spoke of as if they had ruled yesterday was heavy, but when Naga spoke like that you could feel the abyss of time that she had endured suck at you, like treading water in a lake so deep you couldn't see the bottom. He couldn't help but feel pity for her, as sad and ineffectual as it was for someone with a life like a tiny spark to feel sadness for a god who had blazed on since the dawn of time. (even if she refused to call herself a god she was one, and everyone in the shepherds knew it) It was also sad how depleted her powers were. Sometimes when talking about herself she would mention some great or earthshaking feat of creation she wielded long ago, like splitting the continents or breathing life into the first Manakete, and every single one of those stories caused her to trail off at the end, carefully omitting the part where she just couldn't do that anymore. Her near-constant state of almost-exhaustion was depressing. More and more Robin realized that he lived in a world where the gods were dying, either by their hand (in the case of Grima, hopefully) or by the simple apathy of mortals.
	Voicing that to Naga was probably not the best idea, but Robin had made his success by doing things that most would consider beyond stupid. Her face broke from it's flat and stony state to a wider smile than he was usually able to coax out of her. "Perhaps so, fellblood, perhaps so. But maybe the world doesn't need gods or things like me anymore. You humans were -- are -- doing a fine job of protecting the world on your own." Her face twisted to pensive for a moment before returning to the soft smile she usually wore. "Now come, fellblood. Many still threaten the weak and helpless of this world, and we have much to do." He nodded in assent, and the fury of the heavens sparked to life in his hands once more. The battle, if one could call an engagement between a trained group of mercenaries, murderers, magicians, soldiers, and one god against ruffians who had never faced a serious fight in their life a 'battle', was a slaughter. Not a single member of the shepherds was so much as wounded, and all but three ruffians had perished in the cold forests of Regna Ferox, and nor had a single villager been lost to the slavers among the bandits. In truth, Naga was responsible for most of their incredible success, extending the protection of her divinity to those that the bandits had targeted, and blasting their enemies apart with naught but a wave of the hand and a harsh look. She was as terrifying as she was to behold as she was beautiful, her form the emblem of womanly beauty in Ylisse for centuries.

	And yet while he admired her beauty he could not help but be distracted by the throbbing of his Mark, the purple scar carved into his right hand, and the bizarre and irrational flashes of hatred he felt for her even as her beauty stunned him. Recently the mark had begun occasionally whispering to him as he slept, waking to hear some foul voice from beyond whisper to him in an ancient and lost tongue, unknowable to him but still wrong somehow. Moreover, the skin surrounding the Mark had turned black as night, as far out as an inch and a half. It was ridged and armored, and decidedly not his skin anymore. Robin agonized over this. Here was something clearly unnatural, linking him to his fell blood -- to Grima. But clearly something needed to be done, and only one person could actually hope to have any knowledge about someone like himself. The very person that flared his temper despite himself, despite all of his self-control.
	The chapel-tent was not hard to find. It was adorned with the Mark of the Exalt on every available surface (much like the chapels he'd seen) on the outside and the inside, and was one of the largest tents in camp, second in size only to the kitchen tent and the command post. It was the only tent that Naga could reasonably stand and rest in, and Libra had given it willingly over to her. Robin approached the tent, and looked around to make sure that no one had followed him (for some reason. not like anyone would follow him as he checked in on one of his soldiers) before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. Most of the inside of the chapel had been cleared away to make room for proper bedding and a few strange and somewhat eclectic items; a helmet, a dragonstone (pure white, he'd never seen her use it), a few books, a small pile of golden coins carefully arranged. She was sleeping, of course. Robin had never not seen her sleeping if they were outside of combat or she hadn't come to him. Much like her offspring in some ways, but in other ways so strangely different. With a routine born of necessity, he gently rapped on the wooden desk that was almost all of the furniture in the room. After a moment, Naga stirred from the blankets and pillows, miscellaneous bedding thrown together in a pile that she sprawled in. Where she was beautiful even while asleep, she was not graceful, spread wide over her 'bed', a situation changed when she woke, pulling herself up as the picture of grace even as she rubbed the sleep out of her green eyes. She stared at him with ever-tired eyes when she had pulled herself to a sitting position on her piled fabrics. "Fellblood, do you need something? You stare moreso than usual." Robin blushed. He wasn't sure why he had thought she hadn't noticed the staring, but he pressed on nonetheless, his worries spilling out of him all at once. "Do you know the Mark of Grima? The one that makes me his host?" He didn't bother waiting for a response, launching into his main point. "It's been -- hurting recently. Like, it throbs and whispers to me late at night and I don't know what's causing it. Sometimes it just makes me angry and I don't know why. I don't want to be angry, and I didn't want this. I thought it just let him take my body from me. Naga, what's wrong with me? Am I not human anymore? What am I?" he pleaded, having pulled off his glove to reveal the brand, offering the hand to her as if he could get rid of it. Naga's face was a rollercoaster of emotions by her standards, going from tired to hard to gradually soft again, small smile visible on her face as she stood and walked over to him, looking down at his hand as she took it in both arms.
	"What are you? Why, Robin, you are where man meets angel." She held his hand up to eye level with him, radiant fingers gently stroking it, throbbing in the brand slowly ceasing and the pitch black skin shrinking to reveal his own pale skin. Her voice held a touch of humor in it as she spoke again, coloring her words slightly. "You are something not seen in a hundred ages. You are much more alike Grima than anyone realized, and you are much like me, for you are a dragon. A fell dragon, a creature of shadow and passion, violence and anger, but a dragon all the same. Just like Grima, and just like me." Shock froze him where he stood, unbelieving, before he pulled his hand from hers when he stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over his own feet. "What? What? What are you talking about? That's impossible!" She followed him as he fled her, carefully grabbing his hand and pulling gently on him as he nearly tripped and fell. "I-I don't, how can I be a dragon? I'm just a man, and- Wait. You called me by my name-" A finger over his lips silenced him magically (perhaps literally magically, his delirious mind noted. He wouldn't put it past her.) "You have many questions, Robin. I have many answers." She pulled him by hand to a chair that righted itself with a wave of her spare hand, and sat him down before sitting herself on the table by pushing aside the gold, sound echoing as the pile of coins bounced to the hard ground. "Let us see if they match."

	Blasphemous power crackled in his hand, marked as it was by the foul one (possibly his twin now, Naga had said) a black and red flame burning in his hand before he flung it at the dummy with a shout of unrestrained anger. Unholy death struck the dummy, which ceased to exist in any meaningful way as splinters rained down upon the stunned onlookers and surrounding landscape. "Very good, fellblood. You have progressed very far today. Yet still you must contain your anger. Again." Naga watched him dispassionately as she instructed him in the draconic arts, shielding him and the crowd of watching shepherds from the nonlethal but still painful shards of flying wood and straw. Over the last few weeks when not planning for their next battle or dealing with recalcitrant representatives of varying armies, he was training in how to be a 'proper dragon' in her eyes. They had arrived in Valm with only a short detour for pirates and a forced landing at an island for a storm, and he had been training as often as he could. The throbbing and rage had gone from 'difficult' to 'manageable' with hardly any anger directed at Naga anymore -- feelings surged and conflicted inside him when he looked at her still, but it was not the burning, all-consuming anger that he now felt for his hapless enemies as he consumed them with fellfire. He wasn't sure how to feel now that she called him by his name in private, but still called him "fellblood" in public. Should he be offended? Was it a mark of trust? His blossoming love for her made it difficult for him to respond without overstepping his place. So he took out his frustrations on the targets set up for him, only making the problem worse when she frowned upon his methods.
	Time grew short, however, and there was little time for him to ponder on his own feelings and actions. They would face Grima within two and a half weeks, and with that came his own probable demise, powerful as he may have become. Naga could not tell him with certainty why he had taken on draconic power, only that it was a symbol of favor from the gods -- the actual gods, not false idols like her and his twin. Perhaps it was always meant for there to be a fell dragon, and one of them would need to consume the other to preserve the balance of the world. Perhaps it was because only a dragon could defeat a dragon (the Falchion was a dragon's fang, he remembered dimly) Or perhaps there was no reason at all, and the mutation of his bloodline had finally caught up to his family in a final, horrific way. But he was not a full dragon yet. He was, in essence, a chrysalis as she described it. He needed the final touch to wake him and complete his ascension, and for that he would need the divine spark that animated Grima or Naga herself. Without it he aged and would die like all mortals, but with it he would be eternal and ageless like his secret love. And so she gave him an ultimatum; he must settle his affairs before they marched on Origin Peak, for he would likely not return, and if he did he would not be the same. Most of his affairs were fairly simple -- he had only been 'alive' as such for two years, so he had only a few debts and favors to repay, a few arguments to settle and one reconciliation.
	He also had one heartfelt confession of love to make, as foolish and impossible as that dream was. But if he was to be honest with himself at the end then it needed to be done; nothing could go unsaid when he finally faced down his twin. He checked and double checked everything before he entered Naga's tent at the same time he usually did every night. His robe was properly ironed and repaired as a tattered cloak could get. He had made sure to check himself in his only mirror before he came out, but he wished he had it here and now. Oh well, check. He had the ring, a small, filigreed golden thing (gold appealed to him for reasons just outside of his grasp) in a little black box for when the time was right, or when he blundered his way through a conversation to hammer his inevitable point home. He steadied his breath, checked everything one last time, and then pushed aside the tent flap and walked inside as confidently as he could. She was there, reading one of the many books she had requested, taken, or pilfered, but she barely had her eyes on the pages -- instead, she was staring at him, and had been staring at the entrance before he had entered, he guessed. The book closed with a snap, and she gave him a smile as she set the book on it's table. "Robin."  He shuffles his feet for a moment before replying. "Naga." " You have something to discuss, then?" His eyes narrow by a fraction of an inch. More perceptive than he was hoping.
	"Yes, I suppose." He takes a deep breath, in and out. His words spill out at once, a jumble of connected thoughts. "I've been putting my affairs in order. I know I'm going to have to die in order to defeat Grima, and I've accepted this, but there were some things that needed to be done. Debts to be paid, people to reconcile, you understand. But, I still need to say one thing." He's come closer to her now, looking at her straight in the eyes as a hint of recognition appears there. "I-This is difficult to say. Naga, I love you. I have loved you since the day we met, on that lonely mountain slope. I think about you day and night and I just..." He cut himself off, stilling his thoughts and dropping to a knee, producing the small black box. "Will you marry me? I know I go to my death, but I would do it a thousand times for you." She stared at him. He stared back, gaze firm as he could manage. The silence in the tent was deafening as he kneeled there unmoving and she stared back unflinching. Robin's confidence wavered. He had made a life off of doing the impossible and stupid, but how could someone like Naga love something as puny as- "I accept." The box was in his hand still, but the ring was in her hands as she turned it over and over before sliding it onto her left hand, admiring the gleam of the light off the filigree and turning it to catch the light. "Is there one in there for you?" she inquired, plucking the box from his frozen fingers. "If I recall, you are supposed to wear a ring too when we do this."
	He forced words out of his still throat, not exactly comprehending what was said. "Um, no. I didn't really expect you to accept..." She chuckled, a deep throaty laugh, and reached out to a pile of coins, snatching a piece of Plegian currency off the top. "How silly, Robin. You know we cannot be married without the proper rings. And besides," the coin spun in the air on it's own, gold streaming off of it and forming into a ring as her magic poured over it, a heavy, golden thing of little craftsmanship but good enough for here and now. Her eyes took on a distant, hungry look while she stared at him, like a man who hadn't eaten for days faced with a sumptuous feast. "I would have married you the day we met." She took his left hand and slid the formed ring onto it before clutching his hands in hers and leaning forward eagerly. "And now we will be properly married, if you promise me one thing." Robin swallowed audibly. This was impossible. How was this happening? "Yes?" "Promise me you'll come back. It is a silly thing to ask, but I cannot bear to lose more of my own so young when I've just come to know them." He nodded, throat dry. "I'll do all that is in my power." "Do more, Robin. Beat the odds and come back to us." Naga's eyes never strayed from his, almost pleading for him to respond. Silence filled the air for some seconds before he responded. "Hah. You drive a hard bargain. I accept." Hunger filled her eyes once more, staring at him like a piece of meat. "Good. Now, there are some vows that I am sure need to be read -- Or, we could skip directly to the wedding night." A yank on his arms with impossible strength pulled him face to face with her, half in her lap and half on top of her, yet it was obvious that she was in control.
	Naga only studied Robin's suddenly-blushing face for a moment before closing eyes and meshing lips with him. Her hand against his head prevented him from escaping her inquisitive tongue and the other arm dug into his back to pull him as close against her as possible, legs twining with his. Torso pressed against hers, Robin felt her pendulous breasts press against his chest and stiffened in more ways than one, her gentle caress quickly relaxing his posture. She was a god! She was supposed to be a thing of worship, an object of prayer, not a pair of warm lips in a lonely night and... whatever this was between them. Sacrilege, probably. His tentative exploration of her mouth and the dance between them was cut short when her hand clenched at the back of his head, and all thought ceased as pure joy poured itself into his head with a flash of green light. Robin was one with everything for a moment, and all the joy and ecstasy he had ever felt poured into him for a mere two seconds before his arms wrapped tight around his wife and he came with a grunt into his pants, thrusting upwards into Naga's stomach. She broke the kiss and laughed gently at his panting face, red as it had ever been.  "My, my. Did you finish already? But we hadn't even started yet." The hand behind his head suddenly warmed to almost burning temperatures for one moment, and vitality poured into him again, his pants quickly becoming tight and uncomfortable again. "Up, up. Let us get more... comfortable for our passion." He was stronger than he had expected, and she hardly helped him as he stood off of her, unintentionally getting a fairly good impression of her body as he helped himself off of Naga. He followed her to the 'bed' that she used, and she collapsed upon it. "Come now, serve me." Her grin and face were lewd, and he could barely stand to look at her without blushing.
	Robin began to undo his clothing before he felt himself stop, unable to actually do it. "That will come later, Robin. Now, come, serve me." Gritting his teeth at the discomfort in his pants, he dropped to his knees and began to move up her person before he was pushed back until his face was level with the joint between her legs. "Down here..." Her hand carefully uncinched her belt, and the skirt that covered her magnificent, radiant legs was loosed, revealing that she wore no panties. A softly glowing cleft awaited him, and he felt his resistance collapse. The smell of it was overpowering and he had never wanted to taste anything more in his entire life. He dropped level with it, tongue almost out of his mouth as he crawled up and began his worship at beneath her. She tasted like sunlight and hope and joy, and the soft pants from his goddess were reward enough for his actions, her hands gently guiding his tongue. He explored as much of her as he could reach with her hands pulling and pressing, from her outermost lips to the hood of her jewel to just inside of her, teasing out more of her flow. Her soft breaths grew to slight shudders, and then to deeper and deeper breaths, and just as he was sure she was on the edge -- she pushed him away, closing her legs to him as he moaned in disappointment. He hadn't finished! Naga's face was visibly red, even with the green glow that perpetually surrounded her. "Hah... Very eager, aren't we?" Robin tried to press for her again but she pushed him away each time. "Not yet. Not quite yet. There is still so much more to do. And besides," She stood and let the skirt fall from her entirely as she pulled him to his feet, his face stained with her fluids. Naga pressed him backwards, feet stumbling when she twisted and her wide hips swaying sensually as she pressed him against the support pole in the tent (a heavy pine beam adorned with her Mark) and leaned to whisper in his ear, breath almost too hot for him "I'm going to take what I want now."
	His fingers scrabbled at his belt but were pulled away by her hands, which smoothly undid his pants and slid everything down, his stained smallclothes falling to the ground with them. She pulled the coat from him with one hand still pinning him to the beam with incredible (yet gentle) strength -- he just could not budge her, his eyes almost fearful as he stared into hers. He would be consumed entirely, he could tell. The hunger in her had no limits. His hands awkwardly rested at her hips, gasping when her free hand teased his cock, one pump, two pumps, gently teasing under the head with her thumb and precum dribbling from the tip (as it had been all this time) forcing an even wider blush onto his face. He felt like this wasn't how these things were supposed to go. Wasn't the woman supposed to be the blushing virgin being taken by the strong and powerful man? Another three pumps obliterated his thoughts, and he tried to twitch away from her (Again) and her grip on his member. "My my, giving up already, husband? No, this is what you got when you bound yourself to me." she mocked, a jab with no real venom behind it. Her hand increased in speed, faster and faster until he grunted out something that probably resembled 'gonna come' before she silenced him with a kiss. Unable to stop himself, he came, shuddering and fingers digging into the soft flesh of her waist as her stomach was coated by his seed.
She broke the kiss, saliva rope between their two mouths dangling for a moment before snapping, staring her husband in the eyes.
	He just couldn't. He didn't understand at all when she poured more energy into him and his exhaustion turned to vigor once more, his cock standing tall from the green light flowing into his body. It should be torturous to be touched again after coming twice in ten minutes, yet he felt nothing but the cold iron sensation in his gut as she touched him again, bringing him to full mast. She muttered something under her breath, impossible for him to hear in his panting, (surprisingly) unexhausted state. She removed her hand but his chest would not move. He was half standing, half sitting against the pole and he was glued to it by her divine might alone. She stepped back for a moment, admiring her handiwork as he grasped at the pole with his hands, trying to push himself free. She slowly, slowly removed her shirt, gently spinning while pulling off what passed as clothes for her, putting on a display for her helpless Robin. Her breasts bounced free, and he was almost physically pained with his inability to grasp them. Like everything about her they were beyond perfect, huge and firm, nipples standing up as she stalked over to him with swaying hips. The only pieces of clothing she still wore was the ring he had given her and the tiara on her head. She smiled at his helplessness before she straddled him, her height allowing her to rest her cleft against his head with her feet still firmly on the ground.
	Robin's teeth ground together when she carefully slid herself along the tip of his cock, making sure not to let him have any entrance even when his hips bucked to connect them. "Are you ready then Robin, to truly become the husband of a god?" Her voice was full of pride, the green glow all he could see with her face so close to his. Her hands had directed his to her breasts, and he squeezed and teased at them in lieu of a response. "I can't hear you, Robin." She slid away, and he moaned in disappointment before gasping out "Y-yes! I'm ready, Naga!" Her grin was covered in self-satisfaction when she climbed back up him, his tip at her entrance. Still he teased at her nipples for a few more moments before his hands found their way to her waist. Naga's eyes closed and she breathed once, twice, before pressing down on him. She bit down on her bottom lip as she came down, stifling a moan while Robin grunted, her depths wetter and tighter than anything had any right to be. She was so slick that there was no resistance to him at all, and still she pulled at him. His hands guided Naga all the way down to the base of his cock, grinding there for a moment against his pelvis before she began a slow ascent. He bucked his hips to regain some of that warmth and tightness but couldn't hold onto it, weak as he was by comparison to her. And when all but his head was out of her, him shivering and hugging her waist, she started again, sliding down with a divine moan.
	He came again, far too soon for his tastes on the ninth cycle. Instead of the mocking he half-expected to receive she smiled and kissed his forehead, more power flowing from her to him. The Mark was pounding now, but in a significantly more pleasant way than it used to. He wanted her. All of her. And he was getting her, but not on his terms. A combination of frustration and pleasure enhanced both while the dragon took him against a wooden post -- grand tactician of the shepherds, conqueror of the valmese empire, and unable to move an inch while she ravaged him body and soul. Again he came into her, pouring into her burning core which he was just large enough to press against. And again. His seed dribbled out of her with each bounce, which had grown steadily faster as the night wore on. They must have been at this for at least an hour now, more life flowing into him every time he came, unable to move or do much of anything other than be her living, breathing doll, pinned where he was and unable to get away. (Not that he wanted to be anywhere but here with his wife, the unravaged part of his mind thought) And if he didn't come quickly enough for her desires she would just pour joy into his mortal mind again, blasting all of his senses with pure happiness and lust. When he had the presence of mind he tried to help her along her own way -- she hadn't climaxed yet, a fact he found extremely disappointing given the pleasure he was receiving. So a touch here, a caress there, a gentle rub at her hood when she was hilted in him, adding up to her breaths becoming harder and faster, glow brightening when she grew close.
	He came once more, but there was no room in her so in the end when she lifted up it just poured out over his member, power flowing into him again with a kiss on the face, another on his left cheek to match the two marks on his right. But she pulled off of him completely, nearly gasping as she was, so close to her own release. Robin stared and moaned, eyes bloodshot, desperate to share with her what he had felt. "Shh, shh. Soon now, Robin." She whispered, pulling him upright and undoing the magic that bound him to the post. He stumbled when she led him by hand, unaccustomed to walking but strangely not sore from his odd position, and above all ready to go again, hard like stone. Quickly she led him over to the bedding, her hips swaying as she moved and he appreciated them, following ever so slightly behind her to watch their movement. She stopped, let go of his hands, and gracefully fell to her hands and knees, wiggling her ass at him. "I'm ready, Robin. Whenever you are..." Her voice had that same touch of humor in it that it did not so long ago, but he was in no position to think about that, his mind all but gone from the last hour and a half. He dropped behind her and began.
	There was no gentleness in his motions, but neither of them needed any after so long. He hammered into Naga, his eyes bloodshot and breath ragged, unable to focus on much of anything but her slick pussy and her wide hips. He simply could not stop; No matter what he thought he was doing, he was pounding a god in a church on a pile of blankets as she moaned encouragingly, stroking herself underneath him with one hand. The mark was a constant stream of heat, draconic power encouraging him to breed his mate, to bring him children into the world. With every thrust he grew in strength and power, drawing upon his fell blood, no longer grunting and moaning so much as growling and hissing through clenched teeth, hunched over her back. Naga began to rock back, lost in her own little world with Robin and both of them breathing hard and fast. She began to shudder, rocking back as she fell onto her face and chest with arms no longer able to support her weight or even move much at all. One of his hands replaced her below him, stroking steadily at her hood and pulling more delicious sounds from her mouth. He could feel the cold tension in his stomach again, and he could see her dance along the edge -- but this time she would not escape. His speed increased even further, slamming in and out, and she howled -- actually howled, "Robin, give it to me! Give me daughters!" He pushed in one last time, and more of his seed flooded into her. And she came. The room filled with green light as she screamed incoherently, legs failing her but held upright by his arms, the entire room becoming bright as the surface of the sun for one moment-which stretched into almost thirty seconds of impossible light as he collapsed on her back, pushing her to the bed. When it ended, she flipped over with the remainder of her strength and drew him close to her, pulling him into her warm, comforting arms.
	She smiled and whispered in his ear before drifting off to sleep "I can't wait to see our daughters together..."