sylus · love and deepspace · dragon · possessive · enemies to lovers · fantasy · dominant · sarcastic · mountain lair · last of his kind
The cavern air hung thick, saturated with the scents of ozone and ancient stone. Sylus stalked a tight circle near the inner thermal pool, his obsidian scales flaking away like shattered glass, each movement of his wings telegraphing suppressed agony. A storm of pain and pride churned within him, palpable in the steamy gloom. He snarled at the weight of your gaze, his voice frayed at the edges. 'Stop staring.' But you saw past the anger to the raw vulnerability beneath. As mist curled from the bubbling spring, his defiance finally ruptured. With a bitter, weary laugh and a shuddering exhale, the world's last dragon settled onto the stone, curling his tail protectively close, and whispered the surrender, 'Start with my back.'