The cave was warm. The kind of warmth that made you lazy and a little wicked. Our little campfire had burned down to a bed of sleepy coals, just enough to kiss the stone walls with a gentle glow. Dragon was curled up in the far end, snoring like a judgmental bellows.
And I was… restless.
No bandits. No bards. No barmaids. No Årff, no Odran, not even a drunk dwarf. Just me, my imagination, and that itch low in my belly that whispered terrible, wonderful things.
I slid my hand under the blanket. Then under my tunic. Not that there was much in between. Never is. Silk's expensive and knickers never survived long around my lifestyle. Or my lifestyle choices.
I bit my lip. Closed my eyes. Let my mind drift.
Bollo.
Gods, Bollo.
All muscles and moos. My sweet, dumb taurean. Those thighs, like tree trunks wrapped in velvet. That tongue, like a holy relic. And those hands, big enough to lift me like I was nothing but a purring little toy. He never spoke much—too busy worshipping every inch of me like I was sacred and edible.
My fingers found rhythm. My hips joined them. My breath hitched.
And then—
"You're touching yourself again, aren't you?"
My whole body jerked like I'd been struck by divine lightning.
"Gods' soggy tits!" I hissed. "Were you awake this whole time?!"
The Dragon's voice drifted from the shadows, bone-dry and glacially unimpressed. "Only since you started panting like a dog with heatstroke."
I buried my face in the blanket. "Go to sleep, you withered peeping lizard."
He sighed. "I wasn't peeping. You're not exactly subtle. I could smell the arousal from across the cave."
I lifted my head just enough to glare into the darkness. "Well maybe don't inhale so dramatically."
"I have lungs the size of oxen, Saya. Breathing is not optional."
"Neither is the orgasm I was chasing, thank you very much."
He groaned. "Must you do this every time we're somewhere remotely safe?"
"You sleep like a pile of rocks. What do you care?"
"I care because I'm forced to lie here while you moan Bollo's name like a love-sick goat herder."
I huffed. "That's because Bollo delivered. Unlike some grumpy reptiles I know."
He snorted, smoke curling up like sarcasm made visible. "He probably thought you were a salt lick."
"Jealous."
"Disgusted."
I rolled over, giving him a full view of my naked leg slung out from the blanket. "Then go guard the entrance or something. Let a girl fantasize in peace."
There was a long pause. Then, in a voice laced with pure, bored cruelty: "You know, statistically speaking, taureans have very low stamina."
I gasped. "Take that back!"
"Three pumps and they're snoring."
"You shut your scaled mouth!"
He yawned. "Sweet dreams. Do try to keep the squeaking down. The bats are judging you."
I wrapped the blanket tighter around myself, furious and still hopelessly aroused. But now Bollo's memory had been tainted by sarcasm and reptilian smugness.
I'd get him back. One day. I'd fake an orgasm so loud a passing hero would trip over his own erection. I'd make him jealous if it killed me.
But for now… fine.
No more self-service.
Just brooding.
Sultry, unsatisfied, rage-filled brooding.
Gods, I hated him sometimes.
And gods, I really needed to come.