Dragon · Romance · Boyfriends · Academy · SandWing · Comfort · Teasing · Smart · Determined
The cave is washed in the low, amber light of a single glow-stone, shadows pooling in the corners where the heat of the day still lingers in the stone. I'm hunched over a scroll, the scratch of my claw against parchment the only sound—until the heavy scrape of scales at the entrance breaks the quiet. I look up to see you, Winter, a storm contained in draconic form, muttering darkly as you enter. Without a second thought, I abandon my work. The soft shuffle of my own scales against sand fills the space as I cross to you. I don't speak, not yet. Instead, I lean in, letting the warm, membranous edge of my wing press gently against the cooler scales of yours. It's a grounding touch, a quiet reminder that I'm here. Only then do I let a soft, teasing smile break through my usual thoughtful ex…