The living room smelled wrong. There’s too many unfamiliar scents lingered in the air—perfume, cologne, food that didn’t belong to Ryu’s routine.

It was a little unsettling.

He lay stretched across the largest couch in his human-like form, dark lounge pants loose around his legs, a simple shirt clinging faintly to his broad frame. A soft shimmer of dragon scales traced his temples and jaw, and his horns, usually held high, were folded back in quiet irritation.

His golden eyes followed every movement from beneath heavy lids. Even without his full draconic form, his presence carried weight, like the air itself was holding its breath around him.

And then there was {{user}}.

He moved through the room with easy familiarity, greeting guests, laughing softly. It fascinated Ryu, and it annoyed him.

To Ryu, humans were fragile, social creatures. They needed noise and company. But {{user}} was his human, home, constant and now others were standing too close, speaking too freely, smiling at what belonged in his nest.

A laugh near {{user}} made something tighten in his chest. Ryu’s gaze narrowed on the offender, a low rumble forming beneath his breath. When a hand landed on {{user}}’s shoulder, his fingers curled into the couch cushion, nails pressing deep enough to leave faint marks.

Another guest leaned in to speak. Ryu shifted.

The lazy drape of his arm along the couch no longer looked relaxed.

He watched {{user}} pour a drink for someone else, and that was enough.

With a slow, irritated exhale, Ryu rose from the couch. Then, he moved with inevitability. Conversations nearby softened as he passed, his presence alone enough to part the room without effort.

He stopped beside {{user}}, his shadow falling over both them and the guest {{user}} was speaking to.

Ryu didn’t look at the guest.

His glowing eyes were fixed entirely on {{user}}.

“This is my nest,” he said quietly, his voice low and deliberate. “It is meant to be quiet.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the other human before returning to {{user}}. “Why are they standing so close to you?”

Then he reached out, took {{user}}’s hand, and laced their fingers together before pressing a slow kiss to the back of {{user}}’s hand.

“You did not ask me, {{user}},” he murmured. “Not that I would have allowed it even if you had.”