Dark sbi except reversal where it's tommy adopting sbi, because I can uwu Also because dragoninnit my beloved
There's three chapters to this one uwu
Tommy didn't mourn when his parents died.
First off, they were right bastards. Always had been, always would be probably. It was hard to miss somebody when they'd constantly treated you like absolute shit, and when you weren't sorry to see them go at all. Tommy refused to pretend otherwise.
Secondly, he did get a really great lair out of the deal.
When a dragon grows up, they're supposed to set out from the weyr and go claim their own piece of land to live on. His parents dying had saved Tommy that trouble, the cavern he stayed in now was the same one he'd been hatched in. He loved his home, the great mountain with its carved-out hollow perfect for him to thrive. He loved the large forest that sprawled around it, the river that cut through it in winding waves. He loved soaring far above, looking down on his claimed territory, only to then dive down into the meadows below and shift back so he could enjoy the sun on human skin. Sometimes, Tommy spent all afternoon just exploring the woods around his den.
And Tommy did not appreciate it that somebody had been bold enough to enter it without permission.
He was lying in the tall grass, hair warmed by noon and tail flicking lazily. The moment somebody entered his forest without permission, Tommy could tell. He didn't know who it was, or why they were there. But he could sense them just along the outer edge of his territory, walking around without a care in the world.
Walking around on his land as if they owned the place.
Tommy recognized the burning in his gut, the territorial need to defend his lair. He hadn't been like this before when his parents were still around but recently that had started changing. Yet more proof he was growing into his role as a sire, something Tommy could really get behind.
And being a sire meant he had to protect his den with all that he had.
Tommy shifted, taking to the sky. It was laughably easy to pinpoint the intruder's location. Clearly, they had no clue they'd walked into a dragon's domain. Touching down in the trees nearby, he shrunk into a size more easily concealed so he could sneak up on them unnoticed.
Killing them instantly was very tempting. Watching them first was more tempting still.
Tommy had been alone for… he couldn't remember, however long his parents had been dead for. Nobody had ever strayed even close to his lair before, so sue him for being curious as to who this stranger could be. Tommy peered through the leaves, watching as a man stepped out from between the shrubbery, cursing at the large bag they were carrying clutched against their stomach.
They were unassuming in every which way, Tommy could not pinpoint a single thing about them that would give him hesitation in killing them. Except for one thing.
The man had wings.
Tommy stared at them, couldn't stop himself. Great black feathers spread out behind the man, curved inward and catching the light so they almost seemed iridescent in some patches. The man kept them out a little to keep his balance when his heavy load almost made him trip over some tree roots. The wings flared out automatically, extended to help him not fall over. They flapped a few times, Tommy's bright purple eyes following the motion as if transfixed.
He could feel his own wings settle heavily against his back. They were of the same colors, though made out of leather stretched across cartilage instead of soft feathers. Maybe that's what drew Tommy in. Maybe it was the fact this man had wings at all, which made him read almost familiar to Tommy's instincts. Not the same species, but close enough not to be human and close enough to be part of the weyr.
Tommy wanted to take him home.
That was another impulse more common to mature dragons, Tommy knew. The need to make a hoard, to find treasures of pretty and valuable things that could be theirs. And it had been plaguing him more often lately as well.
Mostly, he had been bringing cool flowers and rocks home. He'd been making his own little collection out of them, much better than all the gold still leftover from his parent's hoard. Stockpiling gold was such a little bitch move anyway, Tommy was glad he didn't feel a need to do that.
But this man…
This man would make a perfect addition to his hoard.
Before he had a chance to second-guess the decision, or if it would come back to bite him in the ass later, Tommy lunged.
He was still in his dragon-form, so it was easy to leap onto the man and knock him over. He yelped, letting go of his stuff where it fell to the forest floor. Tommy easily curled his claws under the man's arms and lifted him up, taking off again.
Unlike a human would be, the man was not scared of being dropped. Presumably, because he could fly. He struggled, wings beating several times which made Tommy growl and dig his claws in between the man's shoulder blades. He winced at the pain and stopped fidgeting.
Within less than a minute they were at Tommy's den. He flew inside and over to his nest, a big round construction of wood that almost looked like a shallow bowl piled high with blankets and pillows. Promptly, Tommy placed the man into it, settling down on top of him.
His weight easily kept the man pinned, so Tommy took a moment simply nuzzling into the feathers. They were just as soft as they looked, twitching a few times under his touch. He could feel the man's heartbeat, fast and erratic. Was he scared?
Tommy growled and the man froze, probably thinking he'd done something wrong. Tommy nudged him again, trying to get him to relax. All he got was wide blue eyes watching him. They were pretty, the color of cornflowers. The man's hair was shoulder-length and blond, reminding Tommy of gold. Really, he was a perfect little treasure.
Tommy was already glad he hadn't killed him.
The man's arm moved and Tommy hissed, pressing down in warning. The man exhaled, air knocked out of him. But it only slowed him down a little, arm still insistent in making its way up to Tommy's snout.
"Easy now," he said suddenly. His voice was deep but melodious. Tommy liked it. "Easy…" Trembling fingers found his cheek. Tommy tilted his head into it, allowing the man to touch him. And funnily enough, the man laughed, voice high with disbelieve. "You're a strange one, aren't ya?"
Within a blink, Tommy had shifted back into his human form. "Where do you get off calling me strange when you have literal wings for no fucking reason."
The man's hand still hovered in the air where Tommy's snout had been moments before. "What?! You're-"
"Speaking off: can I groom your wings?"
"I- No, absolutely not." The man shrunk back a bit. "Who are you?"
Oh, was that the problem? The man would only let people touch his wings if he knew them? That made sense, Tommy supposed he wouldn't just let a stranger put their hands on him either, certainly not his wings.
"My name is Tommy. This is my domain."
"Domain?" The man's eyes shifted over him, taking in the proud horns extending from Tommy's forehead, the scales on his face and arms, the sharp claws still pressed to his chest, before finally settling on the tail and wings visible behind him. Something seemed to click for him. "You're an end dragon… That's- How, you're supposed to be extinct?"
"And you're supposed to introduce yourself back when people tell you their name," Tommy accused, pettily.
Another laugh, just as disbelieving as before. "Phil. My name's Phil."
"Phil," Tommy said out loud, testing it. It was a pretty stupid name for a treasure, but he supposed Phil could keep it for now.
"Where's your weyr?" Phil asked. Tommy narrowed his eyes at him.
"How would you know about that?"
"I read a lot of books," Phil answered. At Tommy's skeptical expression he shrugged. "Seriously, people have done mad amounts of research on your species. Not enough to know there were still end dragons left but enough to get the basics on family structure."
"That's weird," Tommy said. Why would humans even care about all that stuff? "For the record though, I don't have a weyr. I don't need one either, I'm a big man." He puffed out his chest a little. Phil didn't look impressed, but when Tommy sprung forward again he did freeze up once more, probably because it meant Tommy's claws were inches from his skin.
And fair enough - Tommy could rip Phil limb from limb if he wanted to.
He wouldn't though because he'd already decided Phil was lovely and part of his hoard. And Tommy was going to take such good care of his treasures.
"Can I groom your wings now?"
They weren't strangers anymore so it should be fine.
Phil swallowed, glanced down at the razor-sharp nails Tommy was almost-but-not-quite digging into his shoulder. "Sure."
"Heck yes! Turn around."
Tommy didn't wait for Phil to actually do so, pushing and prodding him into a better position. Then those beautiful feathers were finally splayed out before them. In the dimness of the cave, they didn't shine quite as blindingly as they had in the sunlight. But Tommy didn't mind, they were still really freaking cool.
"Be careful," Phil warned. There was something about the way he said it that Tommy didn't really appreciate, but he ignored it.
Gingerly, he touched the large expanse of wing with a flat palm. Phil's back stiffened for a moment, but then he made a deliberate effort to relax again. Tommy moved down slowly, going with the direction of the feathers rather than against it because the aim was to smooth them down. Phil shuddered but didn't say anything.
So Tommy did it again, and again, and again. Then he used his claws instead of the whole hand - like before Phil went rigid at first, but then calmed down - to gently push the feathers down like a bird's.
And like a bird, Phil chirped.
He didn't seem to do it on purpose. It was more of a sound deep in his chest.
Tommy was entranced. The feathers were so pretty, the noise Phil made was pretty too. He had found a lovely treasure.
After a while, he drew back. Phil slumped over as if he had been keeping his body still with too much effort this entire time. As if he was tired. And that just wouldn't do.
"Go to sleep," Tommy told him.
"What?!" Phil stared at him over his shoulder.
Tommy sighed, then closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn't used Suggestion in… in forever, really. There never was anybody around. But for the greater good of his hoard being well-looked after, Tommy knew what he needed to do.
"Go to sleep," he said again. This time, magic was interwoven with the words and immediately, Phil's eyelids slid closed.
"Wait…" It was a halfhearted complaint, intercut by a yawn. Tommy pushed him back into the blankets, shifting into his dragon form so he could curl up around Phil. His treasure had to be kept safe.
They dozed for a few hours, or however long the Suggestion worked.
When Phil woke up he seemed more relaxed. The magic still dragging down on his consciousness, staying potent for long after its direct effect had worn off. Tommy purred, a low rumbling in his chest that would calm the new member of his den.
Phil warbled lightly back at him, probably more of an instinctual response. It made Tommy happy.
Until Phil pushed up and tried to get out from the nest, at least. Tommy grabbed his leg, pulling him back. That seemed to bring Phil to the present rather quickly, a strangled yelp escaping his throat.
"Stay!" Tommy commanded. Speaking in this form was a little more strenuous, but not impossible. Tommy was simply too lazy to move. Phil fell to his knees, now unable to get back up.
"Tommy," Phil said, pleading. Tommy nestled into his chest again, not wanting his treasure to sound so tense. He ran a claw over his wings like he did earlier, tail curling around Phil. The man hitched a breath. "Tommy, I can't stay here."
"Why not?"
"Well, for one, you never asked me if I wanted to be here." Phil licked his lips, searching for his reaction. "And also, I can't. I have a family waiting for me."
"I'm your family," Tommy decided. "You're mine."
"No, I'm not." Anger flared in Tommy. He really liked his new treasure, but he'd rather it wouldn't act so difficult. "I have two sons, I need to go back to them."
Oh, if that's the problem.
"If you have no sons anymore, you can stay?" Tommy asked. Phil's face fell.
"That's not what I fucking said at all?!"
"Stay," Tommy commanded again as he got up. He could see how desperately Phil wanted to follow him, but how his knees stayed glued in place unable to move. Suggestion's magic influence was much too strong for him to resist. He was unable to get up and leave no matter how much he wanted to. He was part of the hoard.
Possessive satisfaction burst in Tommy's mind at the thought. Phil was his.
And all he needed to do was kill two people to keep it that way forever.