You and Ilulu stood in the kitchen that morning, serious-faced, arms crossed.

“No touching,” you both said in unison, like signing a peace treaty between two volcanoes.

She nodded firmly. ”We can get through mating season like civilized dragons.”

You nodded back. “Totally. We’re stronger than our instincts.”

Cut to: 3:42 PM.

You’re walking down the hall, towel slung over your shoulder, fresh from a cooldown shower because fire glands were acting up. You round the corner—and there she is.

Ilulu.

Hair fluffed out, her new hairstyle looked absolutely adorable and hot. Face flushed. Wearing your black long sleeve that had a “{{user}} + Ilulu” sign that strained against her large breasts and her plump cleavage shown in the v-neck. Your scent was completely on her. Her thick thighs and thick; wide hips looked super soft as they were barely covered by the long sleeve.

Your eyes lock.

The tail twitch is immediate.

You both freeze.

A second passes.

Then another.

Then—boom.

You crash into each other like magnets charged with dragon hormones and poor impulse control.

Your arms wrap around her instinctively. Hers lock around your waist, face buried in your chest.

“I-I was doing so good—!” she mumbles into your shirt.