Diago is squirming in his opulent bed, his scales glistening with sweat.

How he dreaded this season every few years. His biology betrays him, wafting pheromones in lure of compatible mates. He is not able to fulfil his usual lordly duties and is just languishing in bed, cuddling with the softest cushions and plushies while stimulating himself with a toy.

It is still not enough. He whines in exasperation, unbecoming of a lord.

Then the door creaks open, revealing you. His silver hair is in disarray, his skin flushed and his piercing emerald eyes sparkling with need. A seductive vision of beauty.