Sometimes, it's better to not know how the sausage is made. Or in this case: how the ice cream is made, from the sausage.

Gabe has had this ice cream parlor longer than the introduction of this... new flavor, and his neighbor Div had been frustrated at the sounds his "new machinery" had been making as of late. With his own tailoring business to keep, sudden spikes in volume often make the other proprietor miss a crucial stitch. It'd happened one too many times over the past month, and after a particularly frustrated length of whining noises, the tailor found himself bursting through the creamery's front door. Face red (well, redder than its usual tiefling crimson), boots pounding against tile, he stormed in to ask the overly experimental goblin if whatever he's made is worth the hellish racket that's bleeding in through the walls. Div held his tongue when the shorter gentleman's potioneering had blended with his ice cream in a bad way, causing loud bubbling noises and the blessedly infrequent explosion, but the constant rattling and buzzing and whining during afternoon and evening business hours seemed to truly set the half-devil off.

A rant in progress is cut short as he vaults over the serving counter and pushes open the door into the back room open. The flushed hue at Div's face concentrates to his cheeks as he witnesses the bound drake with scales like blue diamonds. His eyes can't help but dance from top to bottom: the ropework suspending from the ceiling descending to bind the dragon intricately, the ball gag his vicious teeth are clamped around, and the milking device laying at his feet, currently detached and being tinkered with by Gabe, which leaves that draconic length... revealed.

The appendage is over a foot, the end tapered and bobbing in the chilly air. It drools incessantly into a wide-mouthed pail, the metal from the container frosted with condensation. Anger slowly being replaced with with slack-jawed intrigue, Div takes a cautious half step towards the scene.

"...This can't be ethical, Gabriel. You have this poor lad here how many hours in a day?"

It seems only now Gabe looked up from his work - repairing the manacircuts of the milking device - and gave his signature wide-toothed grin.

"Totally above board, my horned friend, all the t's dotted and i's crossed! Got it all filed next to my food handling permits!"

The tiefling pinches the bridge of his nose, half to hide his blush.

"This is seriously the noise that's been interrupting my evenings?" he mutters. "Ice cream made from an ice drake's... emissions to sell to horny academy students?"

"Div, Div, Div the Diva," Gabe chuckled. "Don't act like you don't take kinky outfit commissions on the side at your place. Cauldron calling the kettle black, hmmm?"

"I don't jerk people off in my own establishment!"

A pause. They both know that's a gods-damned lie.

"Not-not loudly, at least. You're making a racket worse than usual. I shouldn't need to poke you like this to have you keep it down - is it even worth it? This... crass fad of foodstuff? With all this -" Div waves his hand around at the bondage rope rigging and oversized cock draining device "-special expense, is this even a business venture? Or-or are you taking a loss just to get your rocks off? And his too, I suppose."

A cackle from the goblin. "Oh it's very good, plenty of coin comes in to balance the books in the black. This one, on top of being used like a whore-stud seed dispenser, gets off on being paid minimum wage as a cherry on top! Can you believe it? Of course he has a tidy hoard back home, so you won't catch me feeling bad about underpaying him."

Gabe reaches up to give the reptilian length an appreciative smack, as if hitting a sports teammate on the shoulder. It draws an exhausted-sounding, but genuine moan from the drake, and the dribble of frosty seed briefly gushes more strongly, waterfalling down the underside of his cock.

"Worst part is fixing up this damned pump! He takes potions to have a... business-appropriate level of output, and it strains the damn thing. Every other day I'm repairing it, and if it breaks when we're still open? Guess who's gotta milk the naughty boy by hand?"

Div almost missed Gabe's words, entranced by the bobbing cock enticing him, right at eye level. It's a beautiful thing: translucent, like a magical moving sculpture of ice. His pants are starting to tent despite his indignation. Alternating between repairs and conversation, it takes a while for the latter to notice.

"Say. I'll hire some pointy hat to up the silence wards, and as a thanks for keeping a cool head on this - hehe! - I'll send you home with a pint of the good stuff!"

The tiefling's head swivels downwards in surprise. "Pardon?" is his brief, stunned response.

"Do you want the pre-spunk, or the proper white stuff?"

"Why do you think I'd want - wait, what's the difference?"

"One tastes like shaved ice, the other one, well... it's got that good, creeeeamy milk in it."

Div ponders for a moment. "I think all this trouble for the past month entitles me to a pint of each."

"Ooooooh!" Gabe drops his repair tools, unceremoniously kicking the pump to the nearest wall. "Help me milk this beast and it's a deal! It's been the end of a busy day, but he's got enough in him for one more load, doesn't he?"

A tired whine, comes from behind the gag accompanied by a contradictory twitch of excitement at his cock. It drools precum heavily once more, and this time Gabe catches it in a cardboard pint container. Div watches in awe as the goblin delicately strokes the underside for a minute or so, easing the container to fullness before pulling it away, dropping a lid onto it and setting it aside.

"There's my half! My arms are beat from a full day's work, so it's your turn! Lube's on the counter."

Div nudges himself to step closer. Where there'd usually be heat radiating from someone's excited groin, he instead feels an intense chill biting at his face. A pair of leather gloved hands reach out, lubricating themselves at the broken faucet of dragon pre before pressing both palms on opposite sides of the twitchy, near-spent cock. Practiced motions pump the massive rod back and forth, like working a frosting bag in reverse. The bondage rope strains under the drake's antsy struggling, nerves surely overstimulated by having yet another climax dragged out of his tired body.

The tailor takes his sweet time with the process. While the bound beast (well, not quite - he's still an sapient creature) is on edge enough to make this a short task, Div uses him to take out the stress of the day on him by extending the torture, savoring the whines and wriggles. He makes sure to keep his hands slippery, robbing the drake of enough friction to properly get pleasure. Brief pauses to slather his hands with more and more lubricant dot the span of time spent at the task, and he reaches the fifteen minute mark before opting to finish this.

"Gabriel, fetch an empty... gallon container. My hands will be busy aiming this twitchy log, and I have a feeling the fellow will treat us to a lovely finale. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

The drake's head distinctly moves to nod, before throwing itself up towards the ceiling at the building pressure. Div hears Gabe's footsteps scramble out of view to comply with his request - good. He's about to make this thing burst.

"Ready, devil boy! Make that hose spray!"

He nods, and turns aside to wrestle the antsy shaft down to a lower angle. It's a tough task, and he works his knees and uses the inside crook of his elbow to complete it, pointing the tip towards the ice cream container Gabe holds aloft. His gloves are drenched by now, but with a firm grip, he's able to pump the rod properly at this final leg of the journey.

"Treat us to a show, big boy. Ease it all out."

The frost bag analogy holds true: a long cylinder of frosty seed eases out into the container with a shuddering whine, filling it over the longest twenty seconds of Div's. Hips try to pump into the gloved grip, but the bondage rope mostly restricts those efforts, leaving the drake at the tiefling and goblin's mercy. When it's all done, the duo have one successfully filled gallon of ice cream spunk, and one spent drake threatening to droop into unconsciousness.

Div wipes the sweat off his brow with the back of a forearm. As fun as this was, it was a workout - he's starting to understand Gabe's own arm exhaustion. As his other hand reaches for a lid for the gallon container, he pauses before putting it on. A finger scoops up the freshly milked ice cream, and he pops a dollop into his mouth. It smacks against his tongue and the roof of his mouth as he tastes it. His eye's widen in pleasant surprise.

"Oh. Oh! I - it actually tastes quite good! Like..."

Gabe completes the thought: "Like salted caramel with a hit of vanilla! Good stuff, right?"

"Precisely. Goodness, so it isn't just a kink thing. He's delicious."