you should see me in a crown; your silence is my favorite sound
"Very tough," his father observed with pride and Gilt's eyes glittered, flicking back to Dad's face with a toothy grin. "Dragonborne, that is for sure." He loved that word, the way it slid from his father's lips like a powerful gift, almost like a second name. Dragonborne. Gilt. These words belonged to him.
"Go ahead and eat, Gilt," Dad said with a short shake of his head, lowering to the body of food. Gilt's eyes sharpened eagerly, salivating in his mouth again as he watched those powerful jaws grab a leg so gingerly, so purposefully as Dad tore the limb from the body with a satisfying crack and rip of muscle and flesh.
He whine-groaned in his little throat, wiggling on his haunches as he waited impatiently. The very moment it left Dad's mouth he pounced on it, tearing into it with noisy snarls. He clamped his little dragon mouth down on a muscle and jerked, then jerked again, pressing his knees awkwardly against it to hold it in place.
His sea-shine eyes glanced over to Dad as he worked, watching as a clever talon ripped open the insides of the belly. He gasped with delight, trilling so happily and immediately forgetting the delicious raw meat before him, diving into the mess of blood and instestines and organs with joyous glomps. Oh, and it was all still so warm! He rolled the smooth liquid over his tongue, slurped in a small organ and sucked until it burst in his mouth in a flood of the most delicious flavors.
His eyes went dark and hazy with pleasure, so exquisite, moaning softly over his perfect feast provided by his wise predator daddy. Blood smeared over different parts of him, circling his mouth and dribbling over his chin, painting his forelegs where he'd had to hold down the deer limb to try and rip some bites off. He licked some off just to taste it more, not even to clean himself, then returned to more of the soft muscle and buttery fatty bits.
"You will be big and strong, my son, and I will keep you safe," his daddy promised as he devoured as much of the deer as he could fit in his little belly. When he was finally stuffed full, he gave a gravelly little belch, turning to grin lazily up at his daddy. That was so good, such a perfect meal. Way better than any milk he'd so so very carefully tugged from the spotted woman's teet. His teeth were not made to be so gentle and soft. He was a hunter like his father and always would be.
His jaws spread wide with a big yawn and he smacked his lips. He could see the blood still on him, but he felt no desire to clean it off. Maybe later. All he wanted now was to nose through the last bits of the body, and after finding nothing too noteworthy in need of immediate consumption he shifted closer to his dad and settled in against his warm body. He nuzzled him in thanks and affection, the only person in his life that made his heart beat so happy with the closest thing to love he may ever understand.
This connection was the absolute strongest and he wanted to keep it forever.
Gilt
the gilded stormdragon