I know exactly how his mind works. From Vyrathion's perspective, this isn't romance, flirting, or even particularly personal. He's identified a practical problem and selected the most efficient solution available. The fact that the solution involves pulling me against his side seems entirely irrelevant to him.
The realization should make the situation easier. Instead it makes it much harder.
Trying not to dwell on that, I adjust my position to where I’m closer than before, still leaning into him but now with more direct contact. The heat hits immediately. I've always known Vyrathion runs warm, but I've never realized just how warm until now. Sitting beside him feels like settling next to a furnace.
A breathtakingly handsome furnace. Who may well be able to blow fire, in his dragon form.
"There," he says with obvious satisfaction. "Problem solved."
"You're ridiculously warm."
"I am a dragon."
“Is it the fire? Can you blow fire?”
“This pitiful form can barely blow out a candle,” he growls. “Using common air. Blowing fire is completely out of the question.”
Some of the tension drains from my shoulders. For a few moments neither of us speaks. Then his arm settles around me with studied casualness.
If I haven't spent months traveling with him, I might believe the gesture is absentminded.
Instead I find myself smiling.
Vyrathion can challenge rival dragons, confront monsters, and threaten entire tribes without a trace of hesitation. Admitting that he cares about someone appears to be a much greater challenge. The thought lingers for a moment before an uncomfortable realization follows close behind: I'm not doing much better.
Across the shelter, Clyde watches us for several seconds before apparently deciding that nothing interesting is happening. He waddles out and is gone.
Gradually the warmth seeps through my damp clothes, and my muscles begin to relax despite everything happening around us. Outside, the storm continues raging exactly as before. Thunder rolls across the sky. Rain batters the shelter. The river churns endlessly somewhere beyond the darkness.
Yet despite all of that, I feel safer than I have all day. Or all week. Or in all my time on Xren.
The feeling lingers as I rest against Vyrathion's side. He's had countless opportunities to leave me behind. He could have done it when we first met. He could have done it when I became inconvenient, when I slowed him down, or when the river nearly killed me. Every one of those moments would've provided a perfectly reasonable excuse.
Instead, he stays.
He jumps into a flood after me. He builds a shelter with his own hands. He fights a river monster that outweighs him. Now he's sitting beside me pretending that holding me close is merely a practical solution to a temperature problem.
The pattern is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. And it should be to him, too.
His obvious arousal at times speaks its clear language.
And now that I’m nice and warm myself, and even almost safe, that part is starting to become hard to ignore.
And why not? The way things are going, I likely won’t survive the next couple of days, much less a month or more. I might as well follow my instincts for a change. And those are telling me to mate with this demigod-like alien as soon as possible. Now would be a good time. It may even be the last chance we get.
“I’m getting warmer,” I purr. “But not warm enough.”
“You not only have needs,” the dragon marvels, “but various degrees of the same need!”
“Mm. Yes. What if I just… let’s see…” I get up and pretend to think hard. “What if you… may I?” I grab hold of one of his legs and pull it straight, despite the massive weight. “And then…”
I sit down on his lap with my back to him, wiggling my butt right at his crotch.
“Ah,” Vyrathion says. “This will make you warmer?”
“Maybe,” I say as brightly as I can. “I’m not too heavy, am I?”
“Of course not. But I wonder if you won’t get even warmer if I dothis.” He lifts his huge hands and puts one around my hips and one higher up, right under the breasts. Something hard is poking me from beneath, right at my butt.
